<8      ''         ^/^r 


N      V       s-- 


■Hrii 


iImIIIIIH 


"THAT  COMES  FROM  THE  DASH  OP  THE  TARTAR  BLOOD,  NOTHING  MORE  ;   AND  MY  MOTHER  WAS 
A  FIN.  SHE'LL  NEVER  ASK  WHETHER  FROM  THE  BLACK  WATER  OR  THE  BALTIC.''      (P.  170.) 


THE    WORKS 


OF 


CHARLES    LEVER 


VOL.   I. 

HAEEY   LORREQUER 
TOM  BURKE   OF   "OURS." 


Wim   TWENTY-FOmi  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Nbw  York  : 
PETER  FENELON  COLLIER,  PUBLISHER. 


Contents. 


SRLF 
YRL 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 

Chapters  1.  to  LV1 • I 

TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS/' 

Ch:.?t3rs  I.  '-o  LX\XV S2M28 


List  of  Illustrations. 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 

TO   FACE  PAGE 

I  was  sent  for,  at  a  quarter  to  seven,  to  lace 
Desdemona's  stays. 8 

"To  your  quarters,  sir,"  roared  the  little  man 
with  the  voice  of  a  lion.  And,  with  a 
haughty  wave  of  his  hand,  prevented  all 
further" attempt  on  my  part  to  seek  expla- 
nation         9 

There  stood  the  accursed  Nicholas  glowering 
at  her  still 21 

"And  is  it  there  ye're  lying  on  the  broad  of 
yer  back,  and  me  as  sick  as  a  dog  foment 
ye?" 47 

"Colonel  Kam worth,"  said  I,  drawing  myself 
proudly  up,  "for  the  expressions  you  have 
just  applied  to  me,  a  heavy  reckoning 
awaits  you." 57 

We  jogged  along  through  the  rain,  enjoying 
the  joke  just  as  if  we  were  sitting  by  a 
good  fire,  with  a  jorum  of  punch  between 
us 80 

'•Does  that  hurt  you,  sir?"  said  I,  in  a  sooth- 
ing and  affectionate  tone  of  voice *.  .  .     91 

I  marched  on  through  the  grinning  crowd  with 
the  step  of  a  martyr 126 

1  saw  my  friend  O'Leary  about  twelve  feet 
from  the  ground,  hanging  on  by  some  ash 
twigs  that  grew  from  the  clefts  of  the 
granite 163 

"That  comes  from  the  dash  of  the  Tartar 
blood,  nothing  more;  and  my  mother  was 
a  Fin,  she'll  never  ask  whether  from  the 
Black  Water  or  the  Baltic 170 

"  Whisht!"  said  Billy,  "and  keep  the  secret. 
I'm  earning  the  rent  for  your  honor.  One 
must  do  many  a  queer  thing  that  pays  two 
pound  ten  an  acre  for  bad  land.". . .' 174 

'Fairly  caught,  Guy,"  said  Lord  Callonby; 
"a  bold  stroke,  if  it  ^n'y  succeed.". 227 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 

TO   FACE   FA U 8 

"Come  along  quick,"  said  Darby,  with  a  look 
of  terror,  "  she's  going  to  curse  you.". . . .  247 

"  Barton,  it's  bad  to  provoke  a  man  with  a 
halter  round  his  neck  !  I  know  what's  be- 
fore me  well  enough  now.  But,  see.  let  him 
escape — give  him  two  hours  to  get  away— 
and  here  I'll  surrender  myself  your  pris- 
oner, and  follow  you  where  you  like.".  .  .   23* 

"  Burke  !  Tom  Burke,  don't  be  violent, don't  be 
outrageous,  you  see  I'm  armed  !  I'd  cut 
you  down  without,  mercy  if  yotr  attempt 
to  lift  a  finger  !  " 284 

One  glance  more  1  caught  cf  his  figure  as  we 
stood  out  to  sea  ;  he  was  kneeling  on  t  he 
beach,  bareheaded,  as  if  in  prayer 313 

I  looked  up,  and  there  were  two  ladies  stand- 
ing beside  me , 320 

Before  me,  scarcely  a  dozen   paces,  and  alone, 

she  stood,  looking  on  the  calm  lake 30  0 

I  had  now  time  to  look  at  him  by  the  light, 
and  alm:>st  started  back  at  the  spectacle 
that  presented  itself 

At  this  instant  a  heavy  hand  fell  upon  my 
shoulder,  and,  passing  down  my  arm, 
seized  m°  by  the  wrist 

"I  believe,  sir,"  said  I,  "  I  comprehend  your 
meaning;  I  hope  there  will  be  no  fear  of 
your  mistaking  mine  "  V\  ith  that  I  drew 
off  the  long  gauntlet  glove  1  wore  and 
struck  him  across  the  face   420 

I  bent  forward  and  received  his  blade  in  the 
muscles  of  my  back — when,  with  a  wheel 
round.  I  smashed  the  sword  in  me,  and 
buried  my  own,  up  to  the  hilt,  in  his  body.    !18 

Then,  again,  the  idea  hashed  upon  me,  that 
death  inevitable  awaited  me,  and  I  fancied 
in  the  singing  billows  I  could  hear  the  wild 
shouts  of  demons  rejoicing  over  my  doei 

"  I  find."  said  she,  smiling,  "  I  must  give  you 
another  keepsake— this  will  not  have  me." 
"Give  it  me.  then   where  it  is."  said  I. .  .   638 

iii 


Harry  Lorreqtter. 


<*j 


PREFACE. 

That  some  thirty  years  after  the  sketches 
which  form  this  volume  were  written  I 
should  he  called  on  to  revise  and  re-edit 
them  is  strange  enough  to  me  ;  well  re- 
membering, as  1  do,  with  what  little  hope 
of  perm  alienee  they  were  penned,  how 
lightly  they  were  undertaken,  and  how 
carelessly  thrown  together.  But  there  is 
something  still  stranger  in  the  retrospect, 
and  that  is,  that  these  same  papers— for 
originally  they  were  contributed'  as  arti- 
cles to  the  Dublin  University  Magazine — 
should  mainly  have  directed  the  course  of 
my  future  life,  and  decided  my  entire 
career. 

I  may  quote  from  a  former  preface  that 
I  was  living  in  a  very  secluded  spot  when 
I  formed  the  idea  of  jotting  down  these 
stories,  many  of  them  heard  in  boyhood, 
others  constructed  out  of  real  incidents 
that  had  occurred  to  my  friends  in  travel, 
and  some  again — as  the  adventures  of  Tre- 
vanion  and  the  French  duelist,  for  in- 
stance— actual  facts  well  known  to  many 
who  had  formed  part  of  the  army  of  occu- 
pation in  France. 

To  give  what  consistency  I  might  to  a 
mass  of  incongiiuous  adventure,  to  such  a 
variety 'of  strange  situations  befalling  one 
individual,  I  was  obliged  to  imagine  a  char- 
acter, which  probably  my  experiences — 
and  they  were  not  very  mature  at  the  time 
— assured  me  as  being  perfectly  possible  : 
one  of  a  strong  will  and  a  certain  energy, 
rarely  persistent  in  purpose  and  perpetual- 
ly the  sport  of  accident,  Avith  a  hearty  en- 
joyment of  the  pleasure  of  the  hour,  and  a 
very  reckless  indifference  as  to  the  price  to 
be  paid  for  it.  If  I  looked  out  on  my 
acquaintances,  I  believed  1  saw  many  of 
the  traits  I  was  bent  on  depicting,  and 
for  others  I  am   half  afraid  I  had  only  to 


take  a  peep  into  myself.     If  l\ 

then,  to  believe  that   in  these  Confess] 

I  have  ever  recorded  any  incidents  of  my 
own  life,  there  is  no  mistake  in  supposing 
that — without  being  in  the  leasl  aw. 
it — in  sketching  Harry  Lorrequer,  1  was  in 
a  great  measure  depicting  myself,  and  be- 
coming, allegorically,  an  antobiographist. 

Here  is  a  confession  which,  if  thirty  odd 
years  had  not  rolled  over.  I  might  be  indis- 
posed to  make,  but  time  has  enabled  me  to 
look  back  on  my  work,  and  even  on  myself 
as  I  wrote  it,  with  a  certain  degree  of  im- 
partiality ;  and  to  feel,  as  regards  both,  as 
the  great  Paley  said  a  man  feels  after  he 
has  finished  his  dinner:  "That  he  might 
have  done  better." 

It  is  perfectly  unnecessary  that  I  should 
say  when  and  where  1  wrote  these  sketches; 
no  thought  of  future  authorship  of  anj 
kind  occurred  to  me,  far  less  did  1  dream 
of  abandoning  my  profession  as  a  physician 
for  the  precarious  livelihood  of  the  pen. 
Indeed,  their  success,  such  as  it  was,  only 
became  known  to  me  after  1  had  left  lie- 
land  and  gone  to  live  abroad,  and  it  was 
there— at  Brussels — my  publishers  wrote 
to  me  to  request  a  continuance  of  niv  Con- 
fessions, with  the  assurance  they  had  found 
favor  with  the  world,  and  flattering  notice 
from  the  Press.  Though  I  have  been  what 
the  sarcastic  French  moralist  called 
••  blessed  with  a  bad  memory"  all  my  life. 
I  can  still  recall  the  delight — I  cannot  rail 
it  less — with  which  I  heard  my  attempt  at 
authorship  was  successful.  I  did  not 
awake,  indeed,  "to  find  myself  famous." 
but  I  well  remember  the  thrill  of  triumph- 
ant joy  with  which  I  read  the  letter  that 
said  '-'(Jo  on."  and  the  entrancing  ecstasy 
[  felt  at  the  bare  possibility  of  my  one  day 
becoming  known  as  a  writer.  I  have  had. 
since  then,  some  moments  in  which  a  par- 
tial success  has  made  me  very  happy  and 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


very  grateful,  but  I  do  not  believe  that  nil 
these  put  together,  or  indeed  any  possible 
favor  the  world  might  mete  to  me,  would 
impart  a  tithe  of  the  enjoyment  1  felt  on 
hearing  that  Harry  Lorrequer  had  been 
liked  by  the  public,  and  that  they  had 
asked  for  more  of  him. 

If  this  sort  of  thing  amuses  them, though! 
I,  I  can  go  on  forever  ;  and  believing  this 
to  he  true.  1  launched  forth  with  all  that 
prodigal  waste  of  material  which,  if  it  forms 
one  of  the  reasons  of  the  success,  is,  strictly 
speaking,  one  among  the  many  demerits 
of  this  story.  That  I  neither  husbanded 
my  resources,  nor  imagined  that  they  ever 
could  fail  me,  were  not  my  only  mistakes  ; 
and  I  am  tempted  to  show  howlittie  1  under- 
stood of  the  responsibilities  of  authorship 
by  repeating  what  I  have  told  elsewhere, 
an  incident  of  the  last  number  of  Harry 
Lorrequer.  The  MSS.  which  contained 
the  conclusion  of  the  story  had  been  sent 
through  the  Foreign  Office  bag  from  Brus- 
sels, and  possibly  had  been  mistaken  for  a 
dispatch.  At  all  events,  like  King  Theo- 
dore's letter,  it  had  been  thrown  to  one 
side  and  forgotten.  In  this  strait  my  pub- 
lishers wrote  to  me  in  a  strain  that  the 
trade  alone  knows  how  to  employ  toward 
an  unknown  author. 

Stung  by  the  reproaches,  and  they  were 
rot  mild,  of  my  correspondent,  I  wrote 
back,  inclosing  another  conclusion,  and 
telling  him  to  print  either  or  both — as  he 
pleased.  Years  after,  I  saw  the  first  sent 
MSS.,  which  came  to  hand  at  last,  bound 
in  my  publishers'  library,  and  lettered 
''Another  ending  to  H.  L." 

When  the  great  master  of  fiction  conde- 
scended to  inform  the  world  on  what  small 
fragments  of  tradition  or  local  anecdote 
the  Waverley  Novels  were  founded,  he  best 
exalted  the  marvelous  skill  of  his  own 
handiwork  in  showing  how  genius  could 
develop  the  veriest  incident  of  a  life  into 
a  story  of  surpassing  power  and  interest. 
I  have  no  such  secrets  to  reveal,  nor  have 
I  the  faintest  pretension  to  suppose  the 
public  would  care  to  hear  about  the  sources 
from  which  I  drew  either  my  characters  or 
my  incidents.  I  have  seen,  however,  such 
references  to  supposed  portraiture  of  indi- 
viduals in  this  story,  that  I  am  forced  to 
declare  that  there  is  but  one  character  in 
the  book  of  which  the  original  had  any  ex- 
istence, and  to  which  I  contributed  noth- 
ing of  exaggeration.  This  is  Father  Mala- 
chi  Brennan.  The  pleasant  priest  was  alive 
when  I  wrote  the  tale,  and  saw  himself  in 
print,  and — worse  still — in  picture,  not,  I 
believe,  without  a  certain  mock  indigna- 
tion, for  he  was  too  racy  a  humorist,  and 


too  genuine  a  lover  of  fun,  to  be  really 
angry  at  this  caricature  of  him. 

The  amusing  author  of  "The  Wild 
Sports  of  the  West"— Hamilton  Maxwell- 
was  my  neignbor  in  the  little  watering- 
place  where  1  was  living,  and  our  intimacy 
was  not  the  less  close  From  the  graver 
character  of  the  society  around  \\a.  We 
often  exchanged  our  experiences  of  Irish 
character  and  life,  and  in  our  gossipings 
stories  were  told,  a<  d  id  to,  and  amplified 
in  such  a  way  between  us  that  I  believe 
neither  of  us  could  have  pronounced  at 
last  who  gave  the  initiative  of  an  incident, 
or  on  which  .side  lay  the  authorship  of  any 
particular  event. 

It  would  have  been  well  had  our  inter- 
course stopped  with  these  confidences,  but 
unfortunately  it  did  not.  We  often  in- 
dulged in  little  practical  jokes  on  our  more 
well-conducted  neighbors,  and  I  remember 
that  the  old  soldier  from  whom  I  drew 
some  of  the  features  I  have  given  to  Colo- 
nel Kamworth,  was  especially  the  mark  of 
these  harmless  pleasantries.  Our  Colonel 
was  an  excellent  fellow,  kind-hearted  and 
hospitable,  but  so  infatuated  with  a  pro- 
pensity to  meddle  with  every  one,  and  to 
be  a  partner  to  the  joys,  the  afflictions,  the 
failures,  or  the  successes  of  all  around 
him,  that  with  the  best  possible  intentions 
and  the  most  sincere  desire  to  be  useful  to 
his  neighbors,  he  became  the  cause  of 
daily  misconceptions  and  mistakes,  sowed 
discord  where  he  meant  unity,  and,  in  fact, 
originated  more  trouble  and  more  distrust 
than  the  most  malevolent  mischief-maker 
of  the  whole  country  side. 

I  am  forced  to  own  that  the  small  perse- 
cutions with  which  my  friend  Maxwell  and 
myself  followed  the  worthy  Colonel,  the 
wrong  intelligence  with  which  we  supplied 
him,  particularly  as  regarded  the  rank  and 
station  of  the  various  visitors  who  came 
down  during  the  bathmg  season  ;  the  false 
scents  on  which  we  sent  him, and  the  absurd 
enterprises  on  which  we  embarked  him, even 
to  the  extent  of  a  mock  address  which,  in- 
duced him  to  stand  for  the  ''borough'  — 
the  address  to  the  constituency  being  'our 
joint  production — all  these  follies,  I  say, 
more  or  less  disposed  me,  I  feel  sure,  to 
that  incessant  ilow  of  absurd  incident 
which  runs  through  this  volume,  and 
which,  after  all,  has  really  little  other  than 
the  reflex  of  our  daily  plottings  and  con- 
trivings. 

I  believe  my  old  friend  the  Colonel  is 
still  living  ;  if  he  be,  and  if  he  should  read 
these  lines,  let  him  also  read  that  I  have 
other  memories  of  him  than  those  of  mere 
jest  and  pleasantry — memories  of  his  cor- 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


dial  hospitality  and  genial  good  nature- 
and  t  bal  there  are  few  things  I  would  like 
better  than  to  meet  and  talk  with  him  over 
bygones,  knowing  no  one  nunc  likelj  to 
relish  a  pleasant  reminiscence  than  him- 
self, nor  more  certain  to  forgive  a  long- 
past  liberty  taken  with  him. 

If  there  are  many  faults  ami  blunders  in 
this  tale  which  1  would  willingly  correct, 
if  there  be  much  that  I  would  curtail  or  cut 
out  altogether,  and  if  there  he  also  occa- 
sionally incidents  of  which  I  could  improve 
the  telling,  1  am  held  hack  from  any  at- 
tempts of  this  kind  by  the  thought  thai  it 
was  by  these,  skei ehes,  such  as  they  are,  1 
first  won  that  hearing  from  the  public  which 
for  more  than  thirty  years  has  never  de- 
serted me.  and  that  the  favor  which  has 
given  the  chief  pride  and  interest  to  my 
life  dates  from  the  day  I  was  known  as 
Harry  Lorrequer.  Having  given  up  the 
profession  for  which,  I  believe,  I  had  some 
aptitude,  to  follow  the  precarious  life  of 
a  writer,  I  suppose  I  am  only  admitting 
what  many  others  under  like  circumstances 
might  declare,  that  I  have  had  my  mo- 
ments, and  more  than  mere  moments,  of 
doubt  and  misgiving  that  I  made  the  wiser 
choice,  and  bating  the  intense  pleasure 
an  occasional  success  has  afforded,  I  have 
been  led  to  think  that  the  career  I  had 
abandoned  would  have  been  more  reward- 
ing, more  safe  from  reverses,  and  less  ex- 
posed to  those  variations  of  public  taste 
which  are  the  terrors  of  all  who  live  on  the 
world's  favor. 

Strangely  enough,  it  is  my  old  doctorial 
instinct  which  should  suggest  the  consola- 
tion to  this  passing  regret.  The  life  of 
the  physician  has  nothing  so  thoroughly 
rewarding,  nothing  so  cheering,  so  full  of 
hearty  encouragement,  as  in  the  occasional 
friendships  to  which  it  opens  the  way.  The 
doctor  attains  to  a  degree  of  intimacy  and 
stands  on  a  footing  of  confidence  so  totally 
exceptional,  that  if  personal  qualities  lend 
aid  to  the  position,  his  intercourse  be- 
comes friendship.  Whether,  therefore,  my 
old  career  gave  me  any  assistance  in  new 
roads,  whether  it  imparted  to  me  any 
habits  of  investigation  as  applicable  to  the 
full  in  morals  as  to  matter,  it  certainly 
imparted  to  me  the  happy  accident  of 
standing  on  good  terms  with — I  was  going 
to  say — my  patient,  and  perhaps  no  better 
word  couid  be  found  for  him  who  has 
heard  me  so  long,  trusted  me  so  much, 
given  me  so  large  a  share  of  his  favor, 
and  come  to  look  on  me  with  such  friend- 
liness. It  would  be  the  worst  of  ingrati- 
tude in  me  if  I  did  not  own  that  I  owe  to 
my  books  not  only  the  pleasant  intimacies 


of  my  life,  but  3ome  of  my  closes!  friend- 
ships. A  chance  expression,  a  fairly  sha- 
dowed thought,  a  mere  chord  struck  at 
random  by  a  passing  hand,  as  h  were,  has 
now  and  then  placed  me,  as  mesn 
call  it,  "en  rapport  "  with  -  who 

may  have  thought  long  and  deeply  on  what 
1  had  but  skimmed  over  ;  ai  ntwav 

t  here  \\  as  a  bond  between  as. 

No  small  satisfaction  has  it   been  to  me 

occasionally   to   hear   t  hat    out  of  th 
abundance  of  my  own  buoyancy  and  light- 

heartedness — and  I  had  a  great  deal  of 
both  long  ago — 1  have  been  able  to  .-hare 
with  my  neighbor  and  given  him  part  of 
my  sunshine,  and  only  felt  the  wanner 
myself.  A  great  writer — one  of  the  mosl 
eloquent  historians  who  ever  illustrated 
the  military  achievements  of  his  country — 
once  told  me  that,  as  he  lay  sick  and  care- 
worn after  a  \'r\r\-,  it  was  in  my  reckless 
stories  of  soldier  life  ho  found  the  cheeriest 
moments  of  his  solitude  ;  and  now  lei  me 
hasten  to  say  that  I  tell  this  in  no  spirit 
of  boastf ulness,  but  with  the  heartfelt 
gratitude  of  one  who  gained  more  by  hear- 
ing that  confession  than  Harry  Lorrequer 
ever  acquired  by  all  his  own. 

One  word. now  as  regards  the  task  I 
am  immediately  engaged  in,  and  I  have 
done. 

My  publishers  propose  to  bring  out  in 
this  edition  a  carefully  revised  version  ol 
all  my  books  in  the  order  in  which  the> 
were  written  ;  each  story  to  be  accom- 
panied by  some  brief  notice  explaining  the 
circumstances  under  which  it  was  written. 
and  to  what  extent  fact  or  fiction  had 
their  share  in  the  construction. 

If  such  notices  may  occasionally  be  but 
leaves  of  an  autobiography,  I  must  ask  my 
reader  to  pardon  me,  and  to  believe  that 
I  shall  not  impose  my  egotism  upon  him 
when  it  be  possible  to  avoid  it,  while  at 
the  same  time  he  shall  know  all  that  I  my- 
self know  of  the  history  of  these  volumes. 

If  to  go  over  again  the  pages  I  wrote  s< 
many  years  ago  is  in  a  measure  to  revisit 
in  age  the  loved,  scenes  of  boyhood,  and  to 
ponder  over  passages  the  very  spirit  of 
whose  dictation  is  dead  and  gone — if  all 
this  has  its  sadness,  I  am  cheered  by  re- 
membering that  I  am  still  addressing  many 
old  and  dear  friends,  and  have  also  for  my 
audience  the  sons  and  grandsons,  and, 
what  I  like  better,  the  daughters  and 
granddaughters,  of  those  who  once  listened 
to  Harry  Lorrequer. 


CHARLES   LEVEIL 


Trieste,  ISt? 


CHA RLtiS  LE VERS  WO i! A'S. 


OHAPTBE  I. 

ARRIVAL    IN     CORK — CIVIC     FESTIVITIES— PRIVATE 
THEATRICALS. 

It  was  on  a  splendid  morning  in  the  au- 
tumn of  the  year  1S1 —  that  the  Howard 
transport,  with  400  of  liis  Majesty's  4-th 
Regiment,  dropped  anchor  in  the  pictur- 
esque harbor  of  Oove ;  the  sea  shone  un- 
der the  purple  light  of  the  rising  sun  with 
a  rich  rosy  hue,  beautifully  in  contrast 
with  the  different  tints  of  the  foliage 
of  the  deep  woods  already  tinged  with 
the  brown  of  autumn.  Spike  Island  lay 
"sleeping  upon  its  broad  shadow,"  and 
the  large  ensign  which  crowns  the  battery 
was  wrapped  around  the  flagstaff,  there 
not  being  even  air  enough  to  stir  it.  It 
was  still  so  early  that  but  few  persons  were 
abroad  ;  and  as  we  leaned  over  the  bul- 
warks, and  looked  now,  for  the  first  time 
for  eight  long  years,  upon  British  ground, 
many  an  eye  filled,  and  many  a  heaving 
breast  told  how  full  of  recollections  that 
short  moment  was,  and  how  different  our 
feelings  from  the  gay  buoyancy  with  which 
we  had  sailed  from  that  same  harbor  for 
the  Peninsula  ;  many  of  our  best  and  1  (rar- 
est had  we  left  behind  us,  and  more  than 
one  native  to  the  land  we  were  approach- 
ing had  found  his  last  rest  in  the  soil  of 
the  stranger.  It  was.  then,  with  a  min- 
gled sense  of  pain  and  pleasure  we  gazed 
upon  that  peaceful  little  village,  whose 
white  cottages  lay  dotted  along  the  edge 
of  the  harbor.  The  moody  silence  our 
thoughts  had  shed  over  us  was  soon  bro- 
ken :  the  preparations  for  disembarking 
had  begun,  and  I  recollect  well  to  this 
hour  how,  shaking  off  the  load  that  op- 
pressed my  heart,  I  descended  the  gang- 
way, humming  poor  Wolfe's  well-known 
song  : — 

"Why,  soldiers,  why 
Should  we  be  melancholy,  boys  ?  " 

And  to  this  elasticity  of  spirits — whether 
the  result  of  my  profession  or  the  gift  of 
God— as  Dogberry  has  it — I  know  not — 
I  owe  the  greater  portion  of  the  happiness 
I  have  enjoyed  in  a  life,  whose  changes 
and  vicissitudes  have  equaled  most  men's. 

Drawn  up  in  a  line  along  the  shore,  I 
could  scarce  refrain  from  a  smile  at  our 
appearance.  Four  weeks  on  board  a  trans- 
port will  certainly  not  contribute  much  to 
the  personnel  of  any  unfortunate  therein 
confined  ;  but  when',  in  addition  to  this. 
you  take  into  account  that  we  had  not  re- 
ceived new  clothes  for  three  years — if  I 
except  caps  for  our  grenadiers^  originally 


intended  for  a  Scotch  regiment,  but  found 
to  be  all  too  small  for  the  long-headed 
generation.  Many  a  patch  of  brown  and 
grey  variegated  the  faded  scarlet  of  our 
uniform,  and  scarcely  a  pair  of  knees  in 
the  entire  regimenl  did  not  confess  their 
obligations  to  a  blanket.  Bui  with  all 
this,  we  showed  a  stout,  weather-beaten 
front,  that,  disposed  as  the  |  ass<  r-by  might 
feel  to  laugh  at  our  expense,  very  little 
caution  would  teach  him  it  wo:^  fully  as 
safe  to  indulge  it  in  his  sleeve. 

The  bells  from  ever}  steeple  and  tower 
rang  gayly  out  a  peal  of  welcome  as  we 
niaii  hed  into  "that  beautiful  city  called 
Cork,"  our  band  playing  "Garryowen" — 
for  we  had  been  originally  raised  in  Ire- 
land, and  still  among  our  officers  main- 
tained a  strong  majority  for  thai  land  of 
punch,  priests,  and  potatoes — the  tattered 
flag  of  the  regiment  proudly  waving  over 
our  heads,  and  not  a  man  amongst  us 
whose  warm  heart  did  not  bound  behind  a 
Waterloo  medal.  Well,  well  !  J  am  now 
— alas  !  that  J  should  say  it— somewhat  in 
the  "  sere  and  yellow  ;"  and  I  confess,  af- 
ter the  experience  of  some  moments  of 
high,  triumphant  feeling,  that  I  never  be- 
fore felt  within  me  the  same  animating, 
spirit-filling  glow  of  delight  as  rose  within 
my  heart  that  day  as  1  marched  at  the 
head  of  my  company  down  George's-street. 

We  were  soon  settled  in  barracks  :  and 
then  began  a  series  of  entertainments  on 
the  side  of  the  civic  dignities  of  Cork, 
which  led  most  of  us  to  believe  that  we 
had  only  escaped  shot  and  shell  to  fall  less 
gloriously  beneath  champagne  and  claret. 
I  do  not  believe  there  is  a  coroner  in  the 
island  who  would  have  pronounced  but  the 
one  verdict  over  the  regiment — "Killed 
by  the  mayor  and  corporation,"  had  we  so 
fallen. 

First  of  all,  we  were  dined  by  the  citi- 
zens of  Cork — and,  to  do  them  justice,  a 
harder  drinking  set  of  gentlemen  no  city 
need  boast ;  then  we  were  feasted  by  the 
corporation  ;  then  by  the  sheriffs;  then 
came  the  mayor,  solus  ;  then  an  address, 
with  a  cold  collation,  that  left  eight  of  us 
on  the  sick-list  for  a  fortnight  :  but  the 
climax  of  all  was  a  grand  entertainment 
given  in  the  Mansion  House,  and  to  which 
upwards  of  two  thousand  were  invited.  It 
was  a  species  of  fancy  ball,  beginning  by  a 
dejeuner  at  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
and  ending — I  never  yet  met  the  man  who 
could  tell  when  it  ended  !  As  for  myself, 
my  finale  partook  a  little  of  the  adven- 
turous, and  I  may  as  well  relate  it.' 

After  waltzing  for  about  an  hour  with 
one  of  the  prettiest  girls  I  ever  set  eyes 


I   WAS   SENT   FOR,    VT   A   QUARTER    TO    SEVEN,  TO   LACE   DERDKMONA'S   STAYS        (P.  S.) 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


upon,  and  getting  a  tender  squeeze  of  the 
hand,  as  I  restored  her  to  a  most  affable- 
looking  old  lady  in  a  blue  turban  and  a 
red  velvet  gown,  who  smiled  benig'nly  at 
me,  and  called  me  "Meejor"  1  retired,  to 
recruit  for  a  new  attack-,  to  a  small  table, 
"Where  three  of  ours  were  quaffing  ponche  a 
la  Romainfi,  with  a  crowd  of  Oorkagians 
about  them,  eagerly  inquiring  after  some 
heroes  of  their  own  city,  whose  deeds  of 
arms  they  were  surprised  did  not  obtain 
special  mention  from  "the  Duke.''  I  soon 
ingratiated  myself  into  this  well-occupied 
clique,  and  dosed  them  with  glory  to  their 
hearts'  content.  I  resolved  at  once  to  enter 
into  their  humor;  and  as  the  "ponche" 
mounted  up  to  my  brain  1  gradually  found 
my  acquaintanceship  extend  to  every  fam- 
ily and  connection  in  the  country. 

"Did  ye  know  Phil  Beamish  of  the 
3 — th,  sir?"  said  a  tall,  red-faced,  red- 
whiskered,  well-looking  gentleman,  who 
bore  no  slight  resemblance  to  Feargus 
O'Connor. 

"Phil  Beamish!"  said  I.  "Indeed  I 
did,  sir,  and  do  still ;  and  there  is  not  a 
man  in  the  British  army  I  am  prouder  of 
knowing."  Here,  by  the  way,  I  may  men- 
tion that  I  never  heard  the  name  till  that 
moment. 

"You  don't  say,  sir?"  said  Feargus — 
for  so  I  must  call  him,  for  shortness'  sake. 
"  Has  he  any  chance  of  the  company  yet, 
sir?" 

"Company!"  said  I,  in  astonishment. 
"He  obtained  his  majority  three  months 
since.  You  cannot  possibly  have  heard 
from  him  lately,  or  you  would  have  known 
that?  " 

"That's  true,  sir.  I  never  heard  since 
he  quitted  the  3 — th  to  go  to  Versailles,  I 
think  they  call  it,  for  his  health.  But  how 
did  he  get  the  step,  sir?" 

"Why,  as  to  the  company,  that  was  re- 
markable enough!"  said  I,  quaffing  off  a 
tumbler  of  champagne  to  assist  my  inven- 
tion. "  You  know  it  was  about  four 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  the  18th  that 
Napoleon  ordered  Grouchy  to  advance  with 
the  first  and  second  brigade  of  the  Old 
Guard  and  two  regiments  of  chasseurs,  and 
attack  the  position  occupied  by  Picton  and 
the  regiments  under  his  command.  Well, 
sir,  on  they  came,  masked  by  the  smoke  of 
a  terrific  discharge  of  artillery,  stationed  on 
a  small  eminence  to  our  left,  and  which  did 
tremendous  execution  among  our  poor  fel- 
lows— on  they  came,  sir,  and  as  the  smoke 
cleared  partially  away  we  got  a  glimpse  of 
them,  and  a  more  dangerous-looking  set  I 
should  not  desire  to  see:  grizzly-bearded, 
hard-featured,  bronzed  fellows,  about  five- 


and-thirty  or  forty  years  of  age;  their 
beauty  not  a  whit  improved  by  ii. 
glare  tin-own  upon  their  facee  and  along 
the  whole  line  by  each  flash  of  the  long 
twenty-foura  that  were  playing  away  to  the 
right.  .Inst  at  this  moinenl  Picton  rode 
down  the  line  with  bis  staff,  and  stopping 
within  a  few  paces  of  me,  Baid,  'They're 
coming  up:  steady,  boys;  steady  now:  we 
shall  have  something  to  do  soon.5  And 
then,  turning  sharply  round,  he  looked  in 
the  direction  of  the  French  battery,  that 
was  thundering  away  again  in  full  force, 
'Ah,  that  must  be  silenced,'  said  he, 
'  Where's  Beamish? '" 

"Says   Picton!"  interrupted 
his  eyes  starting  from  thei  ks,  and 

his  mouth  growing  wider  evei'3  moment, 
as  he  listened  with  the  most  intense  inter- 
est. 

"Yes,"  said  I,  slowly.  And  then,  with 
all  the  provoking  nonchalance  of  an  Italian 
improvisatore,  whoalways  halts  at  the  most 
exciting  point  of  his  narrative.  I  begged  a 
listener  near  me  to  fill  my  glass  from  the 
iced  punch  beside  him.  Not  a  sound  was 
heard  as  I  lifted  the  bumper  to  my.  lips; 
all  were  breathless  in  their  wound-up  anxi- 
ety to  hear  of  their  countryman  who  had 
been  selected  by  Picton — for  what,  too, 
they  knew  not  yet,  and.  indeed,  at  that  in- 
stant, I  did  not  know  myself,  and  nearly 
laughed  outright,  for  the  two  of  ours  who 
had  remained  at  the  table  had  so  well  em- 
ployed their  interval  of  ease  as  to  become 
very  pleasantly  drunk,  and  were  listening 
to  my  confounded  story  with  all  the  grav- 
ity and  seriousness  in  the  world. — 
"'Where's  Beamish?'  says  Picton.  'Here, 
sir,'  said  Phil,  stepping  out  from  the  line, 
and  touching  his  cap  to  the  general,  who, 
taking  him  apart  for  a  few  minutes,  spoke 
to  him  with  great  animation.  We  did  not 
know  what  he  said  ;  but  before  five  min- 
utes were  over,  there  was  Phil  with  three 
companies  of  light-bobs  drawn  up  at  our 
left ;  their  muskets  at  the  charge,  they  set 
off  at  a  round  trot  down  the  little  steep 
which  closed  our  flank.  We  had  not  much 
time  to  follow  their  mo'vements,  for  our 
own  amusement  began  soon  ;  but  I  well 
remember,  after  repelling  the  French  at- 
tack, and  standing  in  square  against  two 
heavy  charges  of  cuirassiers,  the  first  thing 
I  saw  where  the  French  battery  had  stood, 
was  Phil  Beamish  and  about  a  handful  of 
brave  fellows,  all  that  remained  from  the 
skirmish.  He  captured  two  of  the  enemy's 
field-pieces,  and  was  '  Captain  Beamish ' 
on  the  day  after." 

"Long  life  to  him!"  said  at  least  a 
dozen  voices  behind  and  about  me,  while 


6 


CHARLES  LEVERS    WORKS. 


a  genera]  clinking  of  decanters  and  smack- 
ing of  lips  betokened  that  Phil's  health 
with  all  the  honors  was  being  celebrated. 
For  myself,  I  was  really  so  engrossed  by  my 
narral  ive,  and  so  excited  by  the  "ponche," 
that  I  saw  or  heard  very  little  of  what  was 
passing  around,  and  have  only  a  kind  of 
dim  recollection  of  being  seized  by  the 
hand  by  "  Feargus,"  who  was  Beamish's 
brother,  and  who.  in  the  fullness  of  his 
heart,  would  have  hugged  me  to  his 
breast,  if  1  had  not  opportunely  been  so 
overpowered  as  to  fall  senseless  under  the 
table. 

\\  hen  x  first  returned  to  consciousness, 
I  found  myself  lying  exactly  where  I  had 
fallen.  Around  me  lay  heaps  of  slain — 
the  two  of  "ours"  amongst  the  number. 
One  of  them — I  remember  he  was  the 
adjutant — held  in  his  hand  a  wax  candle 
(two  to  the  pound).  Whether  he  had 
himself  seized  it  in  the  enthusiasm  of  my 
narrative  of  flood  and  field,  or  it  had  been 
put  there  by  another,  I  know  not,  but  he 
certainly  cut  a  droll  figure.  The  room  we 
were  in  was  a  small  one  off  the  great 
saloon,  and  through  the  half-open  folding- 
door  I  could  clearly  perceive  that  the 
festivities  were  still  continued.  The  crash 
of  fiddles  and  French  horns,  and  the 
tramp  of  feet,  which  had  lost  much  of 
their  elasticity  since  the  entertainment 
began,  rang  through  my  ears,  mingled 
with  the  sounds  '"Down  the  middle," 
"Hands  across,"  "Here's  your  partner, 
captain."  What  hour  of  the  night  or 
morning  it  then. was,  I  could  not  guess; 
but  certainly  the  vigor  of  the  party 
seemed  little  abated,  if  I  might  judge 
from  the  specimen  before  me,  and  the 
testimony  of  a  short  plethoric  gentleman, 
who  stood  wiping  his  bald  head,  after  con- 
ducting his  partner  down  twenty-eight 
couple,  and  who,  turning  to  his  friend, 
said,  "  Oh,  the  distance  is  nothing,  but  it 
is  the  pace  that  kills." 

The  first  evidence  I  showed  of  any  re- 
turn to  reason  was  a  strong  anxiety  to  be 
at  my  quarters  ;  but  how  to  get  there  I 
knew  not.  The  faint  glimmering  of  sense 
I  possessed  told  me  that  "  to  stand  was  to 
fall,"  and  1  was  ashamed  to  go  on  all- 
fours,  which  prudence  suggested. 

At  this  moment  I  remembered  I  had 
brought  with  me  my  cane,  which,  from 
a  perhaps  pardonable  vanity,  I  was  fond 
of  parading.  It  was  a  present  from  the 
officers  of  my  regiment — many  of  them, 
alas  !  since  dead — and  had  a  most  splendid 
gold  head,  with  a  stag  at  the  top — the 
arms  of  the  regiment.  This  I  would  not 
have  lost  for  any  consideration  I  can  men- 


tion  :  and  this  now  was  gone!  I  looked 
around  me  on  every  side  ;  J  groped  beneath 
the  table;  I  turned  the  sleeping  sols  who 
lay  about  in  no  very  gentle  fashion  ;  but, 
alas  !  it  was  gone.  ]  sprang  to  my  fed, 
and  only  then  remembered  how  unlit  I 
was  to  follow  up  the  search,  as  tables, 
chairs,  lights,  and  people  seemed  all  rock- 
ing and  waving  before  me.  However,  I 
succeeded  in  making  my  way  through  one 
room  into  another,  sometimes  guiding  my 
steps  along  the  walls  ;  and  once,  as  I  re- 
collect, striking  the  diagonal  of  a,  room,  I 
bisected  a  quadrille  with  such  ill-directed 
speed,  as  to  run  foul  of  a  Cork  dandy  and 
his  partner  who  were  just  performing  the 
"en  avant: "  but  though  I  saw  them  lie 
tumbled  in  the  dust  by  the  shock  of  my 
encounter — for  I  had  upset  them — 1  still 
held  on  the  even  tenor  of  my  way.  In 
fact,  I  had  feeling  for  but  one  loss  ;  and, 
still  in  pursuit  of  my  cane,  I  reached  the 
hall-door.  IV  ow,  be  it  known  that  the 
architecture  of  the  Cork  Mansion  House 
has  but  one  fault,  but  that  fault  is  a  grand 
one,  and  a  strong  evidence  of  how  unsuited 
English  architects  are  to  provide  buildings 
for  a  people  whose  tastes  and  habits  they 
but  imperfectly  understand — be  it  known, 
then,  that  the  descent  from  the  hall-door 
to  the  street'  was  by  a  flight  of  twelve 
stone  steps.  How  I  should  ever  get  down 
these  was  now  my  difficulty.  If  Falstaff 
deplored  "eight  yards  of  uneven  ground 
as  being  three  score  and  ten  miles  a  foot," 
with  equal  truth  did  I  feel  that  these 
twelve  awful  steps  were  worse  to  me  than 
would  be  M'Gillicuddy's  Reeks  in  the  day- 
light, and  with  a  head  clear  from  cham- 
pagne. 

While  I  yet  hesitated,  the  problem 
resolved  itself  ;  for,  gazing  down  upon  the 
bright  gravel,  brilliantly  lighted  by  the 
surrounding  lamps,  I  lost  my  balance,  and 
came  tumbling  and  rolling  from  top  to 
bottom,  where  I  fell  upon  a  large  mass  of 
some  soft  substance,  to  which,  in  all  prob- 
ability, I  owe  my  life.  In  a  few  seconds  I 
recovered  my  senses,  and  what  was  my 
surprise  to  find  that  the  downy  cushion 
beneath  snored  most  audibly  !  I  moved  a 
little  to  one  side,  and  then  discovered  that 
in  reality  it  was  nothing  less  than  an  alder- 
man of  Cork,  who,  from  his  position,  I 
concluded  had  shared  the  same  fate  with 
myself  :  there  he  lay,  "  like  a  warrior  tak- 
ing his  rest,"  but  not  with  his  "martial 
cloak  around  him,"  but  a  much  more  com- 
fortable and  far  more  costly  robe — a  scarlet 
gown  of  office — with  huge  velvet  cuffs  and 
a  great  cape  of  the  same  material.  True 
courage  consists  in  presence  of  mind  ;  and 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


here  mine  came  to  my  aid  at  once  :  recol- 
lecting the  loss  I  had  just  sustained,  and 
perceiving  that  all  was  still  about  me,  with 
that  right  Peninsular  maxim,  that  reprisals 
are  fair  in  an  enemy's  camp,  1  proceeded 
to  strip  the  slain:  and  with  some  little 
difficulty — partly,  indeed,  owing  to  my 
own  unsteadiness  on  my  legs — I  succeeded 
in  denuding  the  worthy  alderman,  who 
gave  no  other  sign  of  life  during  the  opera- 
tion than  an  abortive  effort  to  "hip:  hip, 
hurrah,"  in  which  I  left  him,  having  pul 
on  the  spoil,  and  set  out  on  my  way  to  the 
barrack  with  as  much  dignity  of  manner 
as  I  could  assume  in  honor  of  my  cos- 
tume. And  here  I  may  mention  (in  a 
parenthesis)  that  a  more  comfortable 
morning-gown  no  man  ever  possessed,  and 
in  its  wide  luxuriant  folds  1  revel  while  I 
write  these  lines. 

AVhen  I  awoke  on  the  following  day  I 
had  considerable  difficulty  in  tracing  the 
events  of  the  past  evening.  The  great 
scarlet  cloak,  however,  unraveled  much  of 
the  mystery,  and  gradually  the  whole  of 
my  career  became  clear  before  me,  with 
the  single  exception  of  the  episode  of  Phil 
Beamish,  about  which  my  memory  was 
subsequently  refreshed.  But  I  anticipate. 
Only  five  appeared  that  day  at  mess  ;  and, 
Lord  !  what  specters  they  were  ! — yellow 
as  guineas ;  they  called  for  soda  water 
without  ceasing,  and  scarcely  spoke  a  word 
to  each  other.  It  was  plain  that  the  cor- 
poration of  Cork  was  committing  more 
havoc  among  us  than  Corunna  or  Waterloo, 
and  that  if  we  did  not  change  our  quarters, 
there  would  be  quick  promotion  in  the 
corps  for  such  as  were  "  seasoned  gentle- 
men." After  a  day  or  two  we  met  again 
together,  and  then,  what  adventures  were 
told  ! — each  man  had  his  own  story  to 
narrate ;  and  from  the  occurrences  de- 
tailed, one  would  have  supposed  years  had 
been  passing  instead  of  the  short  hours  of 
an  evening  party.  Mine  were,  indeed, 
among  the  least  remarkable;  but  I  confess 
that  the  air  of  vraisemblancc  produced  by 
my  production  of  the  aldermanic  gown 
gave  me  the  palm  above  all  competitors. 

Such  was  our  life  in  Cork — dining, 
drinking,  dancing,  riding,  steeple-chasing, 
pigeon  shooting,  and  tandem  driving — 
filling  up  any  little  interval  that  was  found 
to  exist  between  a  late  breakfast  and  the 
time  to  dress  for  dinner  ;  and  here  I  hope 
I  shall  not  be  accused  of  a  tendency  to 
boasting,  while  I  add,  that  among"  all 
ranks  and  degrees  of  men,  and  women  too, 
there  never  was  a  regiment  more  highly  in 
estimation  than  the  4— th.  We  felt  the 
full  value  of  all  the  attentions  we  were 


receiving,  and  we  endeavon  I,  we 

might  torepaytbem,  Wegol  up  Garrison 
Balls  and  Garrison  Plays,  and  nsnally  per- 
formed once  or  twice  a  week  during  the 
winter.  Here  I  shone  conspicuously:  in 
the  morning  I  was  employed  painting 
scenery  and  arranging  the  properties; 
it  grew  later,  1  regulated  the  lamps  and 
looked  after  the  Eoot-lights,  meditating 
occasionally  bel  ween  ang  r\  litigants,  whose 
jealousies  abound  to  the  full  as  much  in 
private  theatricals  as  in  the  regular  corps 
dramatique.  Then,  I  was  also  leader  in 
the  orchestra ;  and  had  scarcely  given  the 
last  scrape  in  the  overture  before  1  was 
obliged  to  appear  to  speak  the  prologue, 
Such  are  the  cares  of  greatness  :  to  do 
myself  justice,  I  did  not  dislike  them  ; 
though,  to  be  sure,  my  taste  for  the  drama 
did  cost  me  a  little  dear,  as  will  be  seen 
in  the  sequel. 

We  were  then  in  the  full  career  of 
popularity — our  balls  pronounced  the  very 
plcasantest,  our  plays  far  superior  to  any 
regular  corps  that  had  ever  honored  Cork 
with  their  talents — when  an  event  occurred 
which  threw  a  gloom  over  all  our  proceed- 
ings, and  finally  put  a  stop  to  every  pro- 
ject for  amusement  we  had  so  completely 
given  ourselves  up  to.  This  was  no  less 
than  the  removal  of  our  Lieutenant- 
Colonel.  After  thirty  years  of  active  ser- 
vice in  the  regiment  he  then  commanded, 
his  age  and  infirmities,  increased  by  some 
severe  wounds,  demanded  ease  and  repose  ; 
he  retired  from  us  bearing  along  with  him 
the  love  and  regard  of  every  man  in  the 
regiment.  To  the  old  officers  he  was 
endeared  by  long  companionship,  and  un- 
deviating  friendship  ;  to  the  young,  he 
was  in  every  respect  as  a  father,  assisting 
by  his  advice,  and  guiding  by  his  counsel ; 
while  to  the  men,  the  best  estimate  of  his 
worth  appeared  in  the  fact  that  corporal 
punishment  was  unknown  in  the  corps. 
Such  was  the  man  Ave  lost  :  and  it  may 
well  be  supposed  that  his  successor,  who, 
or  whatever  he  might  be,  came  under 
circumstances  of  no  common  difficulty 
amongst  us  ;  but  when  I  tell  that  our  new 
Lieutenant-Colonel  was  in  every  respect 
his  opposite,  it  may  be  believed  how  little 
cordiality  he  met  with. 

Lieutenant-Colonel  Carden — for  so  I 
shall  call  him,  although  not  his  real  name 
— had  not  been  a  month  at  quarters  when 
he  proved  himself  a  regular  martinet  :  ev- 
erlasting drills,  continual  reports,  fatigue 
parties,  and  ball  practice,  and  Heaven 
knows  what  besides,  superseded  our  for- 
mer morning's  occupation  ;  and,  at  the 
end  of  the  time  I  have  mentioned,  we,  who 


s 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


had  fought  our  way  from  Adbuera  to  Wa- 
terloo, under  some  of  the  severest  generals 
of  division,  were  pronounced  a  most  dis- 
orderly and  ill-disciplined  regiment,  by  a, 
colonel  who  had  never  seen  a  shot  fired 
but  at  a  review  at  Hounslow,  or  a  sham 
battle  in  the  Fifteen  Acres.  The  winter 
was  now  drawing  to  a  close — already  some 
little  (ouch  of  spring  was  appearing — as 
our  last  play  for  I  be  season  was  announced, 
and  every  effort  to  close  with  some  little 
additional  eclat  was  made  ;  and  each  per- 
former in  the  expected  piece  was  nerving 
himself  for  an  effort  beyond  his  wont. 
The  Colonel  had  most  unequivocally  con- 
demned these  plays  ;  but  that  mattered 
not— they  came  not  within  his  jurisdic- 
tion— and  we  took  no  notice  of  his  dis- 
pleasure further  than  sending  him  tickets, 
which  were  as  immediately  returned  as 
received.  From  being  the  chief  offender 
I  had  become  particularly  obnoxious  ;  and 
he  had  upon  more  than  one  occasion  ex- 
pressed his  desire  for  an  opportunity  to 
visit  me  with  his  vengeance  ;  but  being 
aware  of  his  kind  intentions  towards  me  I 
took  particular  care  to  let  no  such  oppor- 
tunity occur. 

On  the  morning  in  question,  then,  I 
had  scarcely  left  my  quarters  when  one  of 
my  brother  officers  informed  me  that  the 
Colonel  had  made  a  great  uproar,  that  one 
of  the  bills  of  the  play  had  been  put  up  on 
his  door — which,  with  his  avowed  dislike 
to  such  representations,  he  considered  as 
intended  to  insult  him  :  he  added,  too, 
that  the  Colonel  attributed  it  to  me.  In 
this,  however,  he  was  wrong — and,  to  this 
hour,  I  never  knew  who  did  it.  I  had 
little  time,  and  still  less  inclination,  to 
meditate  upon  the  Colonel's  wrath — the 
theatre  had  all  my  thoughts  ;  and  indeed 
it  was  a  day  of  no  common  exertion,  for 
our  amusements  were  to  conclude  with  a 
grand  supper  on  the  stage,  to  which  all  the 
elite  of  Cork  were  invited.  Wherever  I 
went  through  the  city — and  many  were  my 
peregrinations — the  great  placard  of  the 
play  stared  me  in  the  face  ;  and  every  gate 
and  shuttered  window  in  Cork  proclaimed 
"The  part  of  Othello  by  Mr.  Lorre- 
quer." 

As  evening  drew  near  my  cares  and  oc- 
cupations were  redoubled.  My  lago  I  had 
fears  for — 'tis  true  he  was  an  admirable 
Lord  Grizzle  in  Tom  Thumb— but  then — 
then  I  had  to  paint  the  whole  company, 
and  bear  all  their  abuse  besides,  for  not 
making  some  of  the  most  ill-looking 
wretches  perfect  Apollos  ;  but,  last  of  all, 
I  was  sent  for,  at  a  quarter  to  seven,  to 
lace  Pesdemona's  stays.     Start  not,  gentle 


reader,  my  fair  Desdemona — she  "who 
might  lie  by  an  emperor's  side,  and  com- 
mand him  tasks  "—was  no  other  than  the 
senior  lieutenant  of  the  regiment,  and  who 
was  as  great  a  votary  of  the  jolly  god  as 
honest  Cassio  himself.  But  1  musl  hasten 
on  ;  1  cannot  delay  to  recount  om  suc- 
cesses in  detail.  Let  if  suffice  to  say, 
thai,  by  universal  consent,  I  was  preferred 
toKean  ;and  the  only  fault  the  most  critical 
observer  could  find  to  the  representative 
of  Desdemona,  was  a  rather  unladylike 
fondness  for  snuff.  But  whatever  little 
demerits  our  acting  might  have  displayed, 
were  speedily  forgotten  in  a  champagne 
supper.  There  I  took  the  head  of  the  "ta- 
ble ;  and  in  the  costume  of  the  noble  Moor, 
toasted,  made  speech.es,  returned  thanks. 
and  sang  songs,  till  I  might  have  exclaim- 
ed with  Othello  himself  "  Chaos  is  come 
again  ;"  and  I  believe  I  owe  my  overreach- 
ing the  barrack  that  night  to  the  kind  of- 
fices of  Desdemona,  who  carried  me  the 
greater  part  of  the  way  on  her  back. 

The  first  waking  thoughts  of  him  who 
has  indulged  over  night  are  not  among  the 
most  blissful  of  existence,  and  certainly 
the  pleasure  is  not  increased  by  the  con- 
sciousness that  he  is  called  on  to  the  dis- 
charge of  duties  to  which  a  fevered  pulse 
and  throbbing  temples  are  but  ill  suited. 
My  sleep  was  suddenly  broken  in  upon  the 
morning  after  the  play  by  a"row-dow- 
dow  "  beat  beneath  my  window.  I  jumped 
hastily  from  my  bed  and  looked  out,  and 
there,  to  my  horror,  perceived  the  regi- 
ment under  arms.  It  was  one  of  our  con- 
founded Colonel's  morning  drills ;  and 
there  he  stood  himself,  with  the  poor  adju- 
tant who  had  been  up  all  night,  shivering 
beside  him.  Some  two  or  three  of  the  of- 
ficers had  descended  ;  and  the  drum  was 
now  summoning  the  others  as  it  beat  round 
the  barrack-square.  I  saw  there  was  not  a 
moment  to  lose,  and  proceeded  to  dress 
with  all  dispatch  ;  but,  to  my  misery,  I 
discovered  everywhere  nothing  but  theat- 
rical robes  and  decorations — there,  lay  a 
splendid  turban,  here,  a  pair  of  buskins — 
a  spangled  jacket  glittered  on  one  table, 
and  a  jeweled  scimitar  on  the  other.  At 
last  I  detected  my  "regimental  small- 
clothes," most  ignominiously  thrust  into 
a  corner  in  my  ardor  for  my  Moorish 
robes  .the  preceding  evening. 

I  dressed  myself  with  the  speed  of  light- 
ning; but  as  I  proceeded  in  my  occupation, 
guess  my  annoyance  to  find  that  the  toilet- 
table  and  glass,  aye,  and  leven  the  basin- 
stand,  had  been  removed  to  the  dressing- 
room  of  the  theater  ;  and  my  servant,  I 
suppose,  following  his   master's   example, 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


was  too' tipsy  to  remember  to  bring  them 
back,  so  that  I  was  unable  to  procure  the 
luxury  of  cold  water — for  now  no!  a  mo- 
ment more  remained,  the  drum  had  ceased, 
and  the  men  had  all  fallen  in.  Hasl  ily 
drawing  on  my  coat,  I  put  on  my  shako, 
and  buckling  on  my  belt  as  dandy-liki 
might  be,  hurried  down  the  stairs  to  the 
barrack-yard.  By  the  time  1  got  down,  the 
men  were  all  drawn  up  in  line  along  the 
square,  while  the  adjutant  was  proceeding 
to  examine  their  accouterments,  as  he 
passed  down.  The  Colonel  and  the  offi- 
cers were  standing  in  a  group  but  not  con- 
versing. The  anger  of  the  commanding 
officer  appeared  still  to  continue,  and 
there  was  a  dead  silence  maintained  on 
both  sides.  To  reach  the  spot  where  they 
stood  I  had  to  pass  along  part  of  the  line. 
In  doing  so,  how  shall  I  convey  my  amaze- 
ment at  the  faces  that  met  me — a  general 
titter  ran  along  the  entire  rank,  which  not 
even  their  fears  for  consequences  seemed 
able  to  repress — for  an  effort,  on  the  part 
of  many,  to  stifle  the  laugh,  only  ended 
in  a  still  louder  burst  of  merriment.  I 
looked  to  the  far  side  of  the  yard  for  an 
explanation,  but  there  was  nothing  there 
to  account  for  it.  I  now  crossed  over  to 
where  the  officers  were  standing,  determin- 
ing in  my  own  mind  to  investigate  the  oc- 
currence thoroughly,  when  free  from  the 
presence  of  the  Colonel,  to  whom  any  re- 
presentation of  ill  conduct  always  brought 
a  punishment  far  exceeding  the  merits  of 
the  case. 

Scarcely  had  I  formed  this  resolve,  when 
I  reached  the  group  of  officers,  but  the 
moment  I  came  near,  one  general  roar  of 
laughter  saluted  me,  the  like  of  which  I 
never  before  heard.  I  looked  down  at  my 
costume,  expecting  to  discover  that,  in  my 
hurry  to  dress,  I  had  put  on  some  of  the 
garments  of  Othello.  $To:  all  was  perfect- 
ly correct.  I  waited  for  a  moment,  till 
the  first  burst  of  their  merriment  over,  I 
should  obtain  a  clue  to  the  jest.  But 
there  seemed  no  prospect  of  this,  for,  as  I 
stood  patiently  before  them,  their  mirth 
appeared  to  increase.  Indeed,  poor  G  — — , 
the  senior  major,  one  of  the  gravest  men 
in  Europe,  laughed  till  the  tears  ran  down 
his  cheeks  ;  and  such  was  the  effect  upon 
me,  that  I  was  induced  to  laugh,  too — as 
men  will  sometimes,  from  the  infectious 
nature  of  that  strange  emotion — but,  no 
sooner  did  I  do  this,  than  their  fun  knew 
no  bounds,  and  some  almost  screamed 
aloud  in  the  excess  of  their  merriment. 
Just  at  this  instant  the  Colonel,  who  had 
been  examining  some  of  the  men,  ap- 
proached our  group,  advancing  with  an  air 


of  evident  displeasure,  as  the  shouts  of 
laughter  continued.  As  he  came  up,  I 
turned  hastily  round,  and  touching  my 
cap,   wished    him    good    morning.     NTever 

shall  I    forget    the   look    he  If  a 

glance  could  have  annihilated  any  man,  his 
would   have   finished   me.     For  a  moment 
his  face  became  purpl<    wit h  ragi  ,  his 
was  almost  hid  beneath  his  bent  brow,and 
he  absolutely  shook  with  passion. 

"Go,  sir,"  said  he  at  length,  a-  30on  as 
he  was  able  t<>  find  utterance  for  his  words 
— "go,  sir,  to  yonr  quarters  :  and  Kit''.;" 
you  leave  them,  a  court-martial  shall  de- 
cide if  such  continued  insult  to  your  com- 
manding otliei  r  warrants  your  name  being 
on  the  Army  List." 

"What  the  devil  can  all  this  mean?" 
I  said,  in  a  half-whisper,  turning  to  t!,,- 
others.  But  there  they  stood,  their  hand- 
kerchiefs to  their  mouths,  and  evidently 
choking  with  suppressed  laughter. 

"May  I  beg,  Colonel  Carden,"  said  I — 

"  To  your  quarters,  sir,"  roared  the  little 
man  in  the  voice  of  a  lion.  And.  with  a 
haughty  wave  of  his  hand,  prevented  all 
further  attempt  on  my  part  to  seek  explan- 
ation. 

"They're  all  mad,  every  man  of  them," 
I  muttered,  as  I  betook  myself  slowly  back 
to  my  rooms,  amid  the  same  evidences  of 
mirth  my  first  appearance  had  excited — 
which  even  the  Colonel's  presence,  feared 
as  he  was,  could  not  entirely  subdue. 

With  the  air  of  a  martyr  I  trod  heavily 
up  the  stairs,  and  entered  my  quarter-, 
meditating  within  myself  awful  schemes 
for  vengeance  on  the  now'  open  tyranny  of 
my  Colonel  ;  upon  whom,  I  too.  in  my 
honest  rectitude  of  heart,  vowed  to  have  a 
"court-martial."  I  threw  myself  upon  a 
chair,  and  endeavored  to  recollect  what 
circumstances  of  the  past  evening  could 
have  possibly  suggested  all  the  mirth  in 
which  both  officers  and  men  seemed  to 
participate  equally  ;  but  nothing  could  I 
remember  capable  of  solving  the  mystery  : 
surely,  the  cruel  wrongs  of  the  manly 
Othello  were  no  laughter-moving  snbject. 

I  rang  the  bell  hastily  for  my  servant. 
The  door  opened. 

"Stubbes,"  said  I,  "  are  you  aware " 

I  had  only  got  so  far  in  my  question, 
when  my  servant,  one  of  the  most  discreet 
of  men,  put  on  a  broad  grin,  and  turned 
away  toward  the  door  to  hide  his  fare. 

'•'What  the  devil  does  this  mean?  "  said 
I,  stamping  with  passion  ;  "he  is  as  bad  as 
the  rest.  Stubbes" — and  this  I  spoke 
with  the  most  grave  and  severe  tone — 
"'what  is  the  meaning  of  this  insolence?" 

"  Oh,  sir,"  said  the  man— "  oh,  sir,  sure- 


10 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


ly  you  did  not  appear  on  parade  with  that 
face?"  And  then  lie  hurst  into  a  lit  of  the 
most  uncontrollable  laughter. 

Like  lightning  a  horrid  doubt  shot 
across  my  mind.  I  sprang  over  to  the 
dressing-glass,  which  had  been  replaced, 
and  oh!  horror  of  horrors!  there  1  stood 
as  black  as  the  king  of  Ashantee.  The 
cursed  dye  which  1  had  put  on  for  Othello, 
I  had  neve*  washed  off — and  there,  with  a 
huge  bearskin  shako,  arid  a  pair  of  dark, 
bushy  whiskers,  shone  my  huge,  black, 
and  polished  visage,  glowering  at  itself  in 
the  looking-glass. 

My  first  impulse,  after  amazement  had  a 
little  subsided,  was  to  laugh  immoderately; 
in  this  I  was  joined  by  Stubbes,  who,  feel- 
ing that  his  mirth  was  participated  in, 
gave  full  vent  to  his  risibility.  And,  in- 
deed, as  I  stood  before  the  glass,  grinning 
from  ear  to  ear,  I  felt  very  little  surprise 
that  my  joining  in  the  laughter  of  my 
brother  officers,  a  short  time  before,  had 
caused  an  increase  of  their  merriment.  I 
threw  myself  upon  a  sofa,  and  absolutely 
laughed  till  my  sides  ached,  when,  the 
door  opening,  the  adjutant  made  his  ap- 
pearance. He  looked  for  a  moment  at  me, 
then  at  Stubbes,  and  then  burst  out  him- 
self, as  loud  as  either  of  us.  When  he  had 
at  length  recovered  himself,  he  wiped  his 
face  with  his  handkerchief,  and  said,  with 
a  tone  of  much  gravity, — - 

"But,  my  dear  Lorrequer,  this  will  be  a 
serious — a  devilish  serious  affair.  You 
know  what  kind  of  man  Golonel  Carden 
is;  and  you  are  aware,  too,  you  are  not  one 
of  his  prime  favorites.  He  is  firmly  per- 
suaded that  you  intended  to  insult  him, 
and  nothing  will  convince  him  to  the  con- 
trary. We  told  him  how  it  must  have  oc- 
curred,but  he  will  listen  to  no  explanation." 

I  thought  for  one  second  before  I  replied. 
My  mind,  with  the  practiced  rapidity  of 
an  old  campaigner,  took  in  all  the  pros  and 
cons  of  the  case;  I  saw  at  a  glance  it  were 
better  to  brave  the  anger  of  the  Colonel, 
come  in  what  shape  it  might,  than  be  the 
laughing-stock  of  the  mess  for  life,  and 
with  a  face  of  the  greatest  gravity  and  self- 
possession,  said,— 

"  Well,  adjutant,  the  Colonel  is  right. 
It  was  no  mistake  !  You  know  I  sent  him 
tickets  yesterday  for  the  theatre.  Well, 
he  returned  them;  this  did  not  annoy  me, 
but  on  one  account:  I  had  made  a  wager 
with  Alderman  Gullable  that  the  Colonel 
should  see  me  in  Othello.  What  was  to  be 
done?  Don't  you  see,  now,  there  was  only 
one  course,  and  I  took  it,  old  boy,  and 
have  won  my  bet!  " 

"And  lost    your  commission  for  a  dozen 


of  champagne,  I  suppose,"  said  the  adju- 
tant. 

"Nevermind,  my  dear  fellow,"  I  replied; 
"  I  shall  get  out  of  this  scrape,  as  I  have 
done  many  o1  hers." 

"But  what  do  von  intend  doing?" 

"Oh,  as  to  that,"  said  I,  "I  shall,  of 
course,  wait  on  the  Colonel  immediately; 
pretend  to  him  that  it  was  a  mere  blun- 
der from  the  inattention  of  my  servant — 
hand  over  Stubbes  to  the  powers  that  pun- 
ish" (here  the  poor  fellow  winced  a  little), 
"  and  make  my  peace  as  well  as  I  can. 
But,  adjutant,  mind,"'  said  I.  "and  give 
the  real  version  to  all  our  fellows,  and  tell 
them  to  make  it  public  as  much  as  they 
please." 

"Never  fear,"  said  he,  as  he  left  the 
room  still  laughing,  "  they  shall  all  know 
the  true  story  ;  but  I  wish  with  all  my 
heart  you  Avere  well  out  of  it." 

I  now  lost  no  time  in  making  my  toilet, 
and  presented  myself  at  the  Colonel's  quar- 
ters. It  is  no  pleasure  for  me  to  recount 
these  passages  in  my  life,  in  which  I  have 
had  to  bear  the  " ;  proud  man's  contumely." 
I  shall  therefore  merely  observe,  that  after 
a  very  long  interview,  the  Colonel  accepted 
my  apologies,  and  we  parted. 

Before  a  week  elapsed,  the  story  had 
gone  far  and  near  ;  every  dinner-table  in 
Cork  had  laughed  at  it.  As  for  me,  I  at- 
tained immortal  honor  for  my  tact  and 
courage.  Poor  Gullable  readily  agreed  to 
favor  the  story,  and  gave  us  a  dinner  as 
the  lowest  wager,  and  the  -Colonel  was  so 
unmercifully  quizzed  on  the  subject,  and 
such  broad  allusions  to  his  being  humbugg- 
ed were  given  in  the  Cork  papers,  that  he 
was  obliged  to  negotiate  a  change  of  quar- 
ters with  another  regiment,  to  get  out  of 
the  continual  jesting,  and  in  less  than  a 
month  we  marched  to  Limerick,  to  relieve, 
as  it  was  reported,  the  9th,  ordered  for  for- 
eign service,  but,  in  reality  only  to  relieve 
Lieut. -Colonel  Carden,  quizzed  beyond  en- 
durance. 

However,  if  the  Colonel  had  seemed  to 
forgive,  he  did  not  forget,  for  the  very  sec- 
ond week  after  our  arrival  in  Limerick,  I 
received  one  morning  at  my  breakfast-table 
the  following  brief  note  from  our  adju- 
tant : 

"  My  Dear  Lorrequer, — The  Colonel 
has  received  orders  to  dispatch  two  com- 
panies to  some  remote  part  of  the  coun- 
ty Clare,  and  as  you  have  'done  the  state 
some  service,'  you  are  selected  for  the 
beautiful  town  of  Kilrush,  where,  to  use 
the  eulogistic  language  of  the  geography 
books,  '  there    is    a    good    harbor,    and    a 


IT  A  RR  Y  L  OEREQ  UER. 


11 


market  plentifully  supplied  with  fish.'  I 
have  just,  heard  of  the  kind  intention  in 
store  for  you,  unci  lose  no  time  in  letting 
you  know. 

"  God  giveyou  a  good  deliverance  from 
the  '(jargons  olancs1  as  the  Moniteur  calls 
the  Whiteboys,  and  believe  me  ever  yours. 
"Charles  Curzon." 

I  had  scarcely  twice  read  over  the  ad- 
jutant's epistle,  when  I  received  an  official 
notification  from  the  Colonel,  directing 
me  to  proceed  to  Kilrnsh,  then  and  there 
to  afford  all  aid  and  assistance  in  suppress- 
ing illicit  distillation,  when  called  on  for 
that  purpose;  and  other  similar  duties 
too  agreeable  to  recapitulate.  Alas  !  alas  ! 
"  Othello's  occupation  "  was  indeed  gone  ! 

The  next  morning  at  sunrise  saw  me  on 
my  march,  with  what  appearance  of  gayety 
I  could  muster,  hut  in  reality  very  much 
chapfallen  at  my  banishment,  and  invok- 
ing sundry  things  upon  the  devoted  head 
of  the  Colonel,  which  he  would  by  no 
means  consider  as  "blessings." 

II ow  short-sighted  are  we  mortals, 
whether  enjoying  all  the  pomp  and  state 
of  royalty,  or  marching  like  myself  at  the 
head  of  a  detachment  of  his  Majesty's 
4— th. 

Little,  indeed,  did  I  anticipate  that  the 
Siberia  to  which  I  fancied  I  was  condemn- 
ed should  turn  out  the  happiest  quarters 
my  fate  ever  threw  me  into.  But  this,  in- 
cluding as  it  does  one  of  the  most  impor- 
tant events  of  my  life,  I  reserve  for  another 
chapter. 

"  What  is  that  place  called,  Sergeant  ?" 
—  "  Bunratty  Castle,  sir." 

"  Where  do  we  breakfast  ?"— " At  Clare 
Island,  sir." 

' '  March  away,  boys  ! " 


CHAPTER  II. 

DETACHMENT  DUTY — THE  "  BURTON  ARMS  " 
— CALLONBY. 

For  a  week  after  my  arrival  at  Kilrush, 
my  life  was  one  of  the  most  dreary  monot- 
ony. The  rain,  which  had  begun  to  fall  as 
I  left  Limerick,  continued  to'  descend  in 
torrents,  and  I  found  myself  a  close  pris- 
oner in  the  sanded  parlor  of  "  mine  inn." 
At  no  time  would  such  "durance  vile" 
have  been  agreeable;  but  now,  when  I  con- 
trasted it  with  all  I  had  left  behind  at 
head-quarters,  it  was  absolutely  madden- 
ing. The  pleasant  lounge  in  the  morning, 
the  social  mess,  and  the  agreeable  evening 


party,  were  all  exchanged  for  i  >m- 

enade  of  fourteen  feel  in  one  direel  ion,  and 
twelve  in  the  other,  such  being  the  accu- 
rate measur  smenl  of  my  "  salle  n  m  tnger;" 
a  chicken,  wit h  legs  as  blue  is  a  High- 
lander's in  winter,  for  my  dinni  r;  and  the 
hours  that  all  Christian  mankii  de- 

voting to  pleasant  intercourse  and  agi  - 
able  chit-chat,  spent  in  beating  thai  dead- 
march  to  time,  '"  i  he  I  !>\  il's  T.  »o,"  upon 
my  rickety  table,  and  forming,  betw 
whiles,  sundry  valorous  resolutions  to  re- 
form my  life,  and  "eschew  Back  and  Ic 
company." 

My  front  window  looked  out  upon  a 
long,  straggling,  ill-paved  street,  with  its 
due  proportion  of  mud-heaps  and  duck- 
pools;  the  houses  on  either  side  were,  for 
the  most  part,  dingy-looking  edifici  s,  with 
half-doors,  and  such  pretension  I 
shops  as  a  quart  of  meal,  or  salt,  display*  9 
in  the  window,  confers;  or  son  i  times  two 
tobacco-pipes,  placed  "saltier-wise,"  would 
appear- the  only  vendible  article  in  the  es- 
tablishment. A  more  wretched,  gloomy- 
looking  picture  of  woebegone  poverty  I 
never  beheld. 

If  I  turned  for.  consolation  to  the  back 
of  the  house,  my  eyes  fell  upon  the  dirty- 
yard  of  a  dirty  inn;  the  half-thatched  cow- 
shed, where  two  famished  animal-  mourned 
their  hard  fate, —  "chewing  the  cud  of 
sweet  and  bitter  fancy;  "  the  chaise,  the 
yellow  post-chaise,  once  the  pride  and 
glory  of  the  establishment,  now  stood  re- 
duced from  its  wheels,  and  ignominiously 
degraded  to  a  hen-house;  on  tli3  grass- 
grown  roof  a  cock  had  taken  his  stand, 
with  an  air  of  protective  patronage  to  the 
feathered  inhabitants  beneath: 

"  To  what  base  uses  must  we  come  at  last." 

That  chaise,  which  once  had  conveyed  the 
blooming  bride,  all  blushes  and  tenderm  --. 
and  the  happy  groom,  on  their  honeymoon 
visit  to  Ballybunnion  and  its  romantic 
caves,  or  to  the  gigantic  cliffs  and  sea-girt 
shores  of  Moher — or  with  more  steady  pace 
and  becoming  gravity  had  borne  along  the 
"'going  judge  of  assize" — was  now  become 
a  lying-in  hospital  for  fowls,  and  a  nursery 
for  chickens.  Fallen  as  1  was  from  my 
high  estate,  it  afforded  me  a  species  of 
malicious  satisfaction  to  contemplate  these 
sad  reverses  of  fortune:  and  I  verily  believe 
- — for  on  such  slight  foundation  our  great- 
est resolves  are  built — that  if  the  rain  had 
continued  a  week  longer,  I  should  have 
become  a  misanthropist  for  life.  I  made 
many  inquiries  from  my  landlady  as  to  the 
society   of  the  place,    but  the    answers   I 


12 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


received  only  led  to  greater  despondence. 
My  predecessor  here,  it  seemed,  had  been 
an  officer  of  a  veteran  battalion,  with  a 
wife,  and  that  amount  of  children  which  is 
algebraically    expressed    by   x     meaning, 

aft  unknown  quantity.     He,  g I  man,  in 

his  two  years' sojourn  here,  had  been  much 
more  solicitous  about  his  own  affairs  than 
nniking  acquaintance  with  his  neighbors  ; 
and  at  last,  the  few  persons  who  had  been 
in  the  habit  of  calling  on  "the  officer," 
gave  up  the  practice  ;  and  as  there  were 
no  young  ladies  to  refresh  Pa's  memory  on 
the  matter,  they  soon  forgot  completely 
that  such  a  person  existed — and  to  this 
happy  oblivion,  I,  Harry  Lorrequer,  suc- 
ceeded, and  was  thus  left  without  benefit 
of  clergy  to  the  tender  mercies  of  Mrs. 
Healy  of  the  "Burton  Arms." 

As  during  the  inundation  which  deluged 
the  whole  country  around  I  was  unable  to 
stir  from  the  house,  I  enjoyed  abundant 
opportunity  of  cultivating  the  acquaintance 
of  my  hostess,  and  it  is  but  fair  that  my 
reader,  who  has  journeyed  so  far  with  me, 
should  have  an  introduction. 

Mrs.  Healy,  the  sole  proprietor  of  the 
"  Burton  Arms,"  was  of  some  five-and-fifty 
— "  or  by'r  lady,"  three  score  years — of  a 
rubicund  and  hale  complexion;  and  though 
her  short  neck  and  corpulent  figure  might 
have  set  her  down  as  ""'doubly  hazardous," 
she  looked  a  good  life  for  many  years  to 
come.  In  height  and  breadth  she  most 
nearly  resembled  a  sugar-hogshead,  whose 
rolling,  pitching  motion,  when  trundled 
along  on  edge,  she  emulated  in  her  gait. 
To  the  ungainliness  of  her  figure  her  mode 
of  dressing  not  a  little  contributed.  She 
usually  wTore  a  thick  linsey-woolsey  gown, 
with  enormous  pockets  on  either  side,  and, 
like  Nora  (Jreina's,  it  certainly  inflicted  no 
undue  restriction  upon  her  charms,  but 
left 

"  Every  beauty  free, 
To  sink  or  swell  as  Heaven  pleases." 

Her  feet — ye  gods  !  such  feet — were  appa- 
relled in  listing  slippers,  over  which  the 
upholstery  of  her  ankles  descended,  and 
completely  relieved  the  mind  of  the  spec- 
tator as  to  the  superincumbent  weight 
being  disproportioned  to  the  support.  I 
remember  well  my  first  impression  on  see- 
ing those  feet  and  ankles  reposing  upon  a 
straw  footstool,  while  she  took  her  after- 
noon doze,  and  I  wondered  within  myself 
if  elephants  were  liable  to  the  gout. 
There  are  few  countenances  in  the  world 
that,  if  wishing  to  convey  an  idea  of,  we 
cannot  refer  to  some  well-known  standard  ; 
and  thus  nothing  is  more  common  than  to 


hear  comparisons  with  "'•  Vulcan — Venus — • 
Nicodemus,"  and  the  like;  but  in  the 
present  case  I  am  totally  at  a  loss  for  any- 
thing resembling  the  face  of  the  worthy 
Mrs.  Healy,  except  it  be,  perhaps,  that 
most  ancient  and  sour  visage  we  used  to 
see  upon  old  circular  iron  rappers  formerly 
— they  make  none;  of  them  now — the  only 
difference  being,  that,  Mrs.  llealy's  nose 
had  no  ring  through  it;  I  am  almost, 
bempted  to  add,  "more's  the  pity." 

Such  was  she  in  "the  flesh;"  would 
that,  1  could  say.  she  was  more  fascinating 
in  the  "spirit!"  but,  alas,  truth,  from 
which  I  never  may  depart  in  these  "my 
confessions,"  constrains  me  to  acknowl- 
edge the  reverse.  Most  persons,  in  tins 
miserable  world  of  ours,  have  some  pre- 
vailing, predominating  characteristic, 
which  usually  gives  the  tone  and  color 
to  all  their  thoughts  and  actions,  forming 
what  we  denominate  temperament ;  this 
we  see  actuating  them,  now  more,  now 
less  ;  but  rarely,  however,  is  this  great 
spring  of  action  without  its  moments  of 
repose.  Xot  so  with  her  of  whom  I  have 
been  speaking.  She  had  but  one  passion 
— but  like  Aaron's  rod,  it  had  a  most  con- 
suming tendency — and  that  was  to  scold 
and  abuse  all  whom  hard  fate  had  brought 
within  the  unfortunate  limits  of  her 
tyranny.  The  English  language,  compre- 
hensive as  it  is,  afforded  not  epithets  strong 
enough  for  her  wrath,  and  she  sought 
among  the  more  classic  beauties  of  her 
native  Irish  such  additional  ones  as  served 
her.  need,  and  with  this  holy  alliance  of 
tongues  she  had  been,  for  years  long,  the 
dread  and  terror  of  the  entire  village. 

"The  dawning  of  morn,  the  daylight  sinking," 

ay,  and  even  the  "night's  dull  hours,"  it 
was  said,  too,  found  her  laboring  in  her 
congenial  occupation  ;  and  while  thus  she 
continued  to  "scold  and  grow  fat,"  her 
inn,  once  a  popular  and  frequented  one, 
became  gradually  less  and  less  frequented, 
and  the  dragon  of  the  Ehine-fells  did  not 
more  effectually  lay  waste  the  territory 
about  him,  than  did  the  evil  influence  of 
her  tongue  spread  desolation  and  ruin 
around  her.  Her  inn,  at  the  time  of  my 
visit,  had  not  been  troubled  with  even  a 
passing  traveler  for  many  months  ;  and, 
indeed,  had  I  had  any,  even  the  least  fore- 
knowledge of  the  character  of  my  hostess, 
its  privacy  should  have  still  remained  un- 
invaded  for  some  time  longer. 

I  had  not  been  many  hours  installed, 
when  I  got  a  specimen  of  her  powers  ;  and 
before  the  first  week  was  over,  so  constant 


ffyiEEY  LORREQUER. 


and  unremitting  were  her  labors  in  this 
way  that  i  liavo,  upon  I  lie  occn  siorj  of  a 
slight  lull  in  the  storm,  occasioned  by  her 
falling  asleep,  actually  left  my  room  to 
inquire  if  anything  had  gone  wrong,  in 
the  same  way  as  the  miller  is  said  to  awake 
when  the  mill  slops.  I  trust  i  have  said 
enough  to  move  the  reader's  pity  and  com- 
passion for  my  situation — one  more  miser- 
able it  is  difficul  I  to  conceive,  [t  may  be 
thought  that  much  might  ho  done  by 
management,  and  that  a  slight  exercise 
of  the  favorite  Whig  plan  might  avail. 
Nothing  <>f  the  kind.  She  was  proof 
against  all  such  ails;  and  what  was  .nil 
worse,,  there  was  no  subject,  no  po^ible 
circumstance,  no  matter,  past,  pres<  c,  or 
to  come,  that  she  could  not  wind,  j  her 
diabolical  ingenuity,  into  some  cause  of 
offense;  and  t  lien  came  the  quick  transi- 
tion to  instant  punishment.  Thus,  my 
apparently  harmless  inquiry  as  to  the 
society  of  the  neighborhood,  suggested 
to  her — a  wish  on  my  part  to  make  ac- 
quaintance— therefore  to  dine  out — there- 
fore not  to  dine  at  home — consequently  to 
escape  paying  half-a-crown  and  devouring 
a  chicken — therefore  to  defraud  .her,  and 
behave,  as  she  would  herself  observe, 
"like  a  beggarly  scullion,  with  his  four 
shillings  a  day,  setting  up  for  a  gentle- 
man," etc. 

By  a  quiet  and  Job-like  endurance  of 
all  manner  of  taunting  suspicions  and  un- 
merited sarcasms,  to  which  I  daily  be- 
came more  reconciled,  1  absolutely  rose 
into  something  like  favor  ;  and  before  the 
first  mouth  of  my  banishment  expired, 
had  s:ot  the  length  of  an  invitation  to  tea 
in  her  own  snuggery  —  an  honor  never 
known  to  be  bestowed  on  any  before,  with 
the  exception  of  Father  Malachi  Brennan, 
her  ghostly  adviser  ;  and  even  he,  it  is 
said,  never  ventured  on  such  an  approxi- 
mation to  intimacy,  until  he  was,  in  Kil- 
rush  phrase,  "  half  screwed,"  thereby 
meaning  more  than  half  tipsy.  From 
time  to  time,  thus,  I  learned  from  my 
hostess  such  particulars  of  the  country 
and  its  inhabitants  as  I  was  desirous  of 
hearing;  and  among  other  matters,  she 
gave  me  an  account  of  the  great  landed 
proprietor  himself,  Lord  Calk  nby,  who 
was  daily  expected  at  his  seat  within  some 
miles  of  Kilrush,  at  the  same  time  assur- 
ing me  that  I  need  not  be  looking  so 
"pleased  and  curling  out  my  whiskers ; 
"  that  they'd  never  take  the  trouble  of  ask- 
ing evei.  the  name  of  me."  This,  though 
neither  very  courteous,  nor  altogether 
flattering  to  listen  to,  was  no  more  than  I 
had  alreadv  learned  from  some  brother  of- 


ficers  who  knew  this  quarter,  and  who  in- 
formed   me    I  liit    i  he    Earl    <  d    I  allonby, 
though    only    visiting    his     1 
every  t  hree  or  four  •■ 
lightesl    not  ice  of  an;  of  litary  in 

his  neighborhood  ;  nor,  indeed,  did  he  mix 
with   the  count rv  gentry,  confi  ling  ! 
self  to  his  own  family,  or  the  who 

usually  accompanied   him  from    England, 
and  l'i  mained  during  his  \'<-w  wee]  •' 
My  impression  of  his  lordship  was  th 
fore  ten  calculated  to  cheer  m  by 

any  prospect  of  his  rendering  \\  lighter. 

The  Earl's  family  consisted  oi  Ik  r  lady- 
ship, an   only  son,  nearly  of  age,  and   two 
daughters  ;  the  eldest,  Lady  Jane,  had  the 
reputation  of   being  extremely    beautiful; 
and  I  remembered  when  she  c-  me  out  in 
London,    only    the    year    before,    hearing 
nothing  but  praises  of  the  grace  and 
gance  of  her  manner  united  to   the  m 
classic  beauty  of  her  face  and  figure, 
second  daughter  was  some  years  younj 
and  said  to  be  also  very  handso  t  c  :  h  i 
vet  she  had  not  been  brought  into  soc 
Of  the  son.  Lord  Kilkee,  I  only  heard  that 
he  had  been  a  very  gay  fellow  ai    Oxford, 
where  be  was  much   liked,  and  alt! 
not  particularly  studious,  had  given   evi- 
dence of  talent. 

Such  were  the  few  particulars  I  ob- 
tained of  my  neighbors,  and  thus  little 
did  I  know  of  those  who  were  so  soon  to 
exercise  a  most  important  influence  upon 
my  future  life. 

After  some  weeks'  close  confinement, 
which,  judging  from  my  feeling-  alon  . 
I  should  have  counted  as  many  years.  I 
eagerly  seized  the  opportunity  of  the  first; 
glimpse  of  sunshine  to  make  a  short  excur- 
sion along  the  coast;  I  started  early  in  the 
morning,  and  after  a  long  stroll  along  the 
bmd  headlands  of  Kilkee,  was  returning 
late  in  the  evening  to  my  lodgings.  INIy 
path  lay  across  a  wild,  bleak  moor,  ■' 
with  low  clumps  of  furze,  and  not  pr< 
ing  on  any  side  the  least  trace  of  habita- 
tion. In  wading  through  the  tangled 
bushes,  my  dog  "Mouche  "  started  a  hare  ; 
and  after  a  run  '"sharp,  short  and 
sive,"  killed  her  at  the  bottom  of  a  little 
glen  some  hundred  yards  off. 

I  was  just  patting  my  dog  and  examin- 
ing the  prize,  when  I  heard  a  crackling 
among  the  low  bushes  near  me  :  and  on 
looking  up,  perceived,  about  twenty  paces 
distant,  a  short  thick-set  num.  whose  fus- 
tian jacket  and  leathern  gaiters  at  once 
pronounced  him  the  gamekeeper  ;  fie  steed 
leaning  upon  his  gun,  quietly  awaiting,  as 
it  seemed,  for  any  movement  on  my  part, 
before  he  interfered.      With  one  gla: 


14 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


detected  how  matters  stood,  and  immedi- 
ately adopting  my  usual  policy  of  "  taking 
the  bull  l>\  the  horns,"  called  out,  in  a 
tone  of  very  sufficieni  authority, — 

"I  say,  my  man,  are  you  his  lordship's 
gamekeeper  '? " 

Taking  off  his  hat,  the  man  approached 
me,  and  very  respect  fully  informed  me 
that  he  was. 

"Well,  then,"  said  I,  "present  tins 
hare  to  his  lordship  with  my  respects  ; 
here  is  my  card,  and  say  I  shall  be  most 
happy  to  wait  on  him  in  the  morning  and 
explain  the  circumstance." 

The  man  took  the  card,  and  seemed  for 
some  moments  undecided  how  to  act ;  he 
seemed  to  think  that  probably  he  might  be 
ill-treating  a  friend  of-  his  lordship's  if  he 
refused  ;  and  on  the  other  hand  might  be 
merely  "jockeyed"  by  some  bold-faced 
poacher.  Meanwhile  1  whistled  my  dog- 
close  up,  and  humming  an  air,  with  great 
appearance  of  indifference  stepped  out 
homeward.  By  this  piece  of  presence  of 
mind  I  saved  poor  "  Mouche  ;  "  for  I  saw 
at  a  glance  that,  with  true  gamekeeper's 
law,  he  had  been  destined  to  death  the 
moment  he  had  committed  the  offense. 

The  following  morning,  as  I  sat  at 
breakfast,  meditating  upon  the  events  of 
the  preceding  day,  and  not  exactly  deter- 
mined how  to  act,  whether  to  write  to  his 
lordship  explaining  how  the  matter  oc- 
curred, or  call  personally,  a  loud  rattling 
on  the  pavement  drew  me  to  the  window. 
As  the  house  stood  at  the  end  of  a  street. 
I  could  not  see  in  the  direction  the  noise 
came  ;  but  as  I  listened  a  very  handsome 
tandem  turned  the  corner  of  the  narrow 
street,  and  came  along  toward  the  hotel  at 
a  long,  sling  trot;  the  horses  were  dark 
chestnuts,  well-matched,  and  showing  a 
deal  of  blood.  The  carriage  was  a  dark 
drab,  with  black  wheels  ;  the  harness  all 
of  the  same  color.  The  whole  turn-out — 
and  I  was  an  amateur  of  that  sort  of  thing 
was  perfect ;  the  driver,  for  I  come  to  him 
last,  as  lie  was  the  last  1  looked  at,  was  a 
fashionable-looking  young  fellow,  plainly, 
but  knowingly,  dressed,  and  evidently 
handling  the  "  ribbons"  like  an  experienced 
whip. 

After  bringing  his  nags  up  to  the  inn 
door  in  very  pretty  style,  he  gave  the  reins 
to  his  servant,  and  got  down.  Before  I 
was  well  aware  of  it,  the  door  of  my  room 
opened,  and  the  gentleman  entered  with  a 
certain  easy  air  of  good  breeding,  and  say- 
ing,— 

•"  )!  r.  Lorreqner,  I  presume,"  introduced 
himself  as  Lord  Kilkee. 

I  immediately  opened  the  conversation 


by  an  apology  for  my  dog's  misconduct  on 
the  day  before,  and  assured  his  lordship 
thai  J  knew  the  value  of  a.  hare  in  a  hunt- 
ing country,  and  was  really  sorry  for  the 
circumstance. 

•'Then  J  must  say,"  replied  his  lord- 
ship, "Mr.  Lorreqner  is  the  only  person 
who  regrets  tin-  matter:  for  had  it  not 
been  for  this,  it  is  more  than  probable  we 
should  never  have  known  we  were  so  near 
neighbors;  in  fact,  nothing  could  equal 
our  amazement  at  hearing  you  were  play- 
ing the  'Solitaire'  down  here.  You  must 
have  found  it  dreadfully  heavy,  'and  have 
thought  us  downright  savages.'  But  then 
I  must  explain  to  you,  that  my  father  has 
made  some  'rule  absolute'  about  visiting 
when  down  here.  And  though  I  know 
you'll  not  consider  it  a  compliment,  yet  I 
can  assure  you  there  is  not  another  man 
I  know  of  he  would  pay  attention  to,  but 
yourself.  lie  made  two  efforts  to  get  here 
ibis  morning,  but  the  gout  '  would  not  be 
denied,'  and  so  he  deputed  a  most  inferior 
'diplomate  ;'  and  now  will  you  let  me  re- 
turn with  some  character  from  my  first 
mission,  and  inform  my  friends  that  you 
will  dine  with  us  to-day  at  seven — a  mere 
family  party  ;  but  make  your  arrangements 
to  stop  all  night  and  to-morrow  :  we  shall 
find  some  work  for  my  friend  there  on  the 
hearth  ;  what  do  you  call  him,  Mr.  Lorre- 
qner ?" 

"  'Mouche' — come  here,  'Mouche.'" 

"  Ah,  '  Mouche,'  come  here,  my  fine  fel- 
low— a  splendid  dog,  indeed  ;  very  tall  for 
a  thoroughbred  ;  and  now  you'll  not  for- 
get, seven,  'temps  militaire,'  and  so,  sans 
adieu." 

And  with  these  words  his  lordship 
shook  me  heartily  b}T  the  hand  :  and  be- 
fore two  minutes  had  elapsed,  had  wrapped 
his  box-coat  once  more  across  him,  and 
was  round  the  corner. 

I  looked  for  a  few  moments  on  the 
again  silent  street,  and  was  almost  tempted 
to  believe  I  was  in  a  dream,  so  rapidly  had 
the  preceding  moments  passed  over  ;  and 
so  surprised  was  I  to  find  that  the  proud 
Earl  of  Callonby,  who  never  did  the  "civil 
thing  "  anywhere,  should  think  proper  to 
pay  attention  to  a  poor  sub.  in  a  marching 
regiment,  whose  only  claim  on  his  ac- 
quaintance was  the  suspicion  of  poaching 
on  his  manor.  I  repeated  over  and  over 
all  his  lordship's  most  polite  speeches,  try- 
ing to  solve  the  mystery  of  them  ;  but  in 
vain:  a  thousand  explanations  occurred, 
but  none  of  them.I  felt  at  all  satisfactory; 
that  there  was  some  mystery  somewhere,  I 
had  no  doubt  :  for  I  remarked  all  through 
that  Lord  Kilkee   laid  some,  stres      '.pon 


HARR Y  L ORREQ  UER. 


15 


my  identity,  and  even  seemed  surprised  al 
my  being  in  such  banishment.  c,0h," 
thought  I,  at  last,  "his  lordship  is  aboul 
to  get  up  private  theatricals,  ami  has  seen 
my  Captain  Absolute,  or  perhaps  my 
Hamlet" — 1  conld  not  say  "Othello"  even 
to  myself — "  and  is  anxious  to  get  'such 
unrivaled  talent'  even  'for  one  night 
only.'" 

After  many  guesses  this  seemed  the 
nearest  I  could  think  of  ;  and  by  the  time 
1  had  finished  my  dressing  for  dinner,  it 
was  quite  (dear  to  me  1  had  solved  all  the 
secret  of  his  lordship's  attentions. 

The  road  to  "Callonby"  was  beautiful 
beyond  anything  I  had  ever  seen  in  Ireland. 
For  upwards  of  two  miles  it  led  along  the 
margin  of  some  lofty  cliffs,  now  jutting 
out  into  bold  promontories,  and  again 
retreating,  and  forming  small-  hays  and 
mimic  harbors,  into  which  the  heavy  swell 
of  the  broad  Atlantic  was  rolling  its  deep 
blue  tide.  The  evening  was  perfectly 
calm,  and  at  a  little  distance  from  the 
shore  the  surface  of  the  sea  was  without  a 
ripple.  The  only  sound  breaking  the  sol- 
emn stillness  of  the  hour  was  the  heavy 
plash  of  the  waves,  as  in  minute  peals  they 
rolled  in  upon  the  pebbly  beach,  and 
brought  back  with  them,  at  each  retreat, 
some  of  the  larger  and  smoother  stones, 
whose  noise,  as  they  fell  back  into  old 
Ocean's  bed,  mingled  with  the  din  of  the 
breaking  surf.  In  one  of  the  many  little 
bays  I  passed,  lay  three  or  four  fishing 
smacks.  The  sails  were  drying,  and  flap- 
ped lazily  against  the  mast.  I  could  sec 
the  figures  of  the  men  as  they  passed  back- 
wards and  forwards  upon  the  decks,  and 
although  the  height  was  nearly  eight  hun- 
dred feet,  could  hear  their  voices  quite 
distinctly.  Upon  the  golden  strand,  which 
was  still  marked  with  a  deeper  tint,  where 
the  tide  had  washed,  stood  a  little  white 
cottage  of  some  fishermen — at  least,  so  the 
net  before  the  door  bespoke  it.  Around  it 
stood  some  children,  whose  merry  voices 
and  laughing  tones  sometimes  reached  me 
where  I  was  standing.  1  could  not  but 
think,  as  I  looked  down  from  my  lofty 
eyrie  upon  that  little  group  of  boats  and 
that  lone  hut,  how  much  of  the  "world," 
to  the  humble  dwellers  beneath,  lay  in  that 
secluded  and  narrow  bay.  There,  the  deep 
sea,  where  their  days  were  passed  in 
"storm  or  sunshine," — there,  the  humble 
home,  where  at  night  they  rested,  and 
around  whose  hearth  lay  all  their  cares 
and  all  their  joys.  How  far,  how  very  far 
removed  from  the  busy  haunts  of  men,  and 
all  the  struggles  and  contentions  of  the 
ambitious    world;    and    yet,    how   short- 


sighted to  suppose  that  even  they  had  not 
I  their  griefs  and   sorrows,  and  that  their 
humble  lol  was  devoid  <>r  the  in] 
of  those  woes  which  all  are  heirs  to. 

I  turned  reluctantly  from  tie  sea-shore 
to  enter  t  he  gate  of  t  ue  park,  and  my  path 
in  a  few  moments  was  as  completely 
screened  from  all  prospect  of  the  sea,  as 
though  it  had  lain  miles  inland.  A  i 
nue  of  tall  and  ancient  lime-i  reei .  so  dense 
in  their  shadows  as  nearly  to  conceal  the 
road  beneath,  led  for  above  a  mile  through 
a  beautiful  lawn,  whose  surface,  gently  un- 
dulating, and  studded  with  young  ell 
was  dotted  over  with  sheep.  At  length, 
descending  by  a  very  steep  road,  J  reached 
a  beautiful  little  stream,  over  which  a  rus- 
tic bridge  was  thrown.  As  I  looked  down 
upon  the  rippling  stream  beneatl  .  on  the 
surface  of  which  the  dusky  evening  flies 
were  dipping,  I  made  a  resolve,  if  I  pros- 
pered in  his  lordship's  good  graci  3,  to  de- 
vote a  day  to  the  "angle"  then  I 
left  the  country.  It  was  now  growing 
late,  and  remembering  Lord  Kilki  e's  inti- 
mation of  "sharp  seven."  I  threw  m\ 
over  my  cob  "Sir  Roger's"  neck  (for  I  had 
hitherto  been  walking),  and  cantered  up 
the  steep  hill  before  me.  "When  I  reached 
the  top.  I  found  myself  upon  a  broad  table- 
land, encircled  by  old  and  well-grown  tim- 
ber, and  at  a  distance,  most  tastefully  half 
concealed  by  ornamental  planting,  I  could 
catch  some  glimpse  of  Callonby.  Before, 
however.  I  had  time  to  look  about  me,  I 
heard  the  tramp  of  horses' feet  behind,  and 
in  another  moment  two  ladies  clashed  up 
the  steep  behind,  and  came  toward  me, 
at  a  smart  gallop,  followed  by  a  groom, 
who,  neither  himself  nor  his  horse,  seemed 
to  relish  the  pace  of  his  fair  mistresses.  I 
moved  off  the  road  into  the  grass  to  permit 
them  to  pass  ;  but  no  sooner  had  they  got 
abreast  of  me,  than  Sir  Roger,  anxious  for 
a  fair  start,  flung  up  both  heels  at  once, 
pricked  up  his  ears,  and.  with  a  plunge 
that  very  nearly  threw  me  from  the  saddle, 
set  off  at  top  speed.  My  first  thought  was 
for  the  ladies  beside  me,  and.  to  my  utter 
horror,  I  now  saw  them  coming  along  in 
full  gallop;  their  horses  had  got  off  the 
road,  and  were,  to  my  thinking,  become 
quite  unmanageable.  I  endeavored  to  pull 
up.  but  all  in  vain.  Sir  Roger  had  got  the 
bit  between  his  teeth,  a  favorite  trick  of 
his,  and  I  was  perfectly  powerless  to  hold 
him.  By  this  time,  they  being  mounted  on 
|  thorough-breds,  got  a  full  neck  before  me, 
and  thq  pace  was  now  tremendous:  on  we 
all  came,  each  horse  at  his  utmost  stretch. 
They  were  evidently  gaining  from  the  better 
stride   of  their  cattle,  and  will   it  be  be- 


16 


vitARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


lieved,  or  shall  I  venture  to  acknowledge 
it  in  these  my  Confessions,  that  f,  who  a 
moment  before  would  have  given  my  besl 
chance  of  promotion  to  be  able  to  pull  in 

my  horse,  would  now  have  "pledged  my 
dukedom  *"  to  be  able  to  give  Sir  Roger  one 

cut  of  the  whip  unobserved.  I  leave  it  to 
the  wise  to  decipher  the  rationale,  but  such 
is  the  fact.  Ii  was  complete  steeple-chas- 
ing, and  my  blood  was  up. 

On  we  came,  and  I  now  perceived  that 
about  two  hundred  yards  before  me  stood 
an  iron  gate  and  piers,  without  any  hedge 
or  wall  on  either  side;  before  I  could  con- 
jecture the  meanfng  of  so  strange  a  thing 
in  the  midst  of  a  large  lawn,  I  saw  the  fore- 
most horse,  now  two  or  three  lengths  be- 
fore the  other,  still  in  advance  of  mo,  take 
two  or  three  short  strides,  and  fly  about 
eight  feet  over  a  sunk  fence — the  second 
followed  in  the  same  style,  the  riders  sit- 
ting as  steadily  as  in  the  gallop.  It  was 
now  my  turn,  and  I  confess,  as  I  neared 
the  dyke,  I  heartily  wished  myself  well 
over  it,  for  the  very  possibility  of  a  "mis- 
take" was  maddening.  Sir  Roger  came  on 
at  a  slapping  pace,  and  when  within  two 
yards  of  the  brink,  rose  to  it.  and  cleared 
it  like  a  deer.  By  the  time  I  had  accom- 
plished this  feat,  not  the  less  to  my  satis* 
faction  that  both  ladies  had  turned  in 
their  saddles  to  watch  me,  they  were  al- 
ready far  in  advance;  they  held  on  still  at 
the  same  pace,  round  a  small  copse  which 
concealed  them  an  instant  from  my  view, 
and  which,  when  I  passed,  I  perceived  that 
they  had  just  reached  the  hall  door,  and 
were  dismounting. 

On  the  steps  stood  a  tall,  elderly-looking, 
gentlemanlike  person,  who,  I  rightly  con- 
jectured, was  his  lordship.  I  heard  him 
laughing  heartily  as  I  came  up.  1  at  last 
succeeded  in  getting  Sir  Roger  to  a  canter, 
and  when  a  few  yards  from  where  the 
group  were  standing,  sprang  off,  and  has- 
tened up  to  make  my  apologies  as  I  best 
might  for  my  unfortunate  runaway.  I 
was  luckily  spared  the  awkwardness  of  an 
explanation,  for  his  lordship,  approaching 
me  with  his  hand  extended,  said, — 

"  Mr.  Lorrequer  is  most  welcome  at  Call- 
onhy.  I  cannot  be  mistaken,  1  am  sure — 
I  have  the  pleasure  of  addressing  the  ne- 
phew of  my  old  friend  Sir  Guy  Lorrequer  of 
Elton.  1  am  indeed  most  happy  to  see 
you,  and  not  the  less  so,  that  you  are  safe 
and  sound,  which,  five  minutes  since,  I 
assure  you  1  had  my  fears  for." 

Before  I  could  assure  his  lordship  that 
my  fears  were  all  for  my  competitors  in  the 
race — for  such  in  reality  they  were — he 
introduced  me  to  the  two  ladies,  who  were 


still  standing  Inside  him — "Lady  Jane 
Callonby ;  Mr.  Lorrequer;  Lady  Cathe- 
rine." 

"Which  of  you.  young  ladies,  may  I  ask, 
planned  this  "escapade."  for  I  see  by  your 
looks  ii  was  no  accident  ? " 

••1  think,  papa,""  said  Lady  Jane,  "you 
must  question  Mr.  Lorrequer  on  that  head  : 
he  certainly  started  first." 

"I  confess,  indeed,"  said  I,  "such  was 
the  case." 

"  Well,  you  must  confess,  too.  yon  were 
distanced,"  said  Lady  Jane. 

His  lordship  laughed  heartily,  and  I 
joined  in  his  mirth,  feeling  at  the  same 
time  most  terribly  provoked  to  be  quizzed 
on  such  a  matter  :  that  I,  a  steeple-chase 
horseman  of  the  first  water,  should  be 
twitted  by  a  couple  of  young  ladies,  on  the 
score  of  a  most  manly  exercise.  "But 
come,"  said  his  lordship,  "  the  first  bell 
has  rung  long  since,  and  I  am  longing  to 
ask  Mr.  Lorrequer  all  about  my  old  college 
friend  of  forty  years  ago.  So,  'ladies, 
hasten  your  toilet,  I  beseech  you." 

With  these  words,  his  lordship,  taking 
my  arm,  led  me  into  the  drawing-room, 
where  we  had  not  been  many  minutes  till 
wre  were  joined  by  her  ladyship,  a  tall, 
stately,  handsome  Woman,  of  a  certain  age  ; 
resolutely  bent  upon  being  both  young  and 
beautiful,  in  spite  of  time  and  wrinkles; 
her  reception  of  me,  though  not  possessing 
the  frankness  of  his  lordship,  was  still  very 
polite,  and  intended  to  be  even  gracious. 
I  now  found  by  the  reiterated  inquiries  for 
my  old  uncle,  Sir  Guy,  that  he  it  was,  and 
not  Hamlet,  to  whom  I  owed  my  present 
notice,  and  I  must  include  it  among  my 
Confessions,  that  it  was  about  the  first  ad- 
vantage I  ever  derived  from  the  relation- 
ship. After  half  an  hour's  agreeable  chat- 
ting, the  ladies  entered,  and  then  I  had 
time  to  remark  the  extreme  beauty  of  their 
appearance;  they  were  both  wonderfully 
like,  and  except  that  Lady  Jane  was  taller 
and  more  womanly,  it  would  have  been  al- 
most impossible  to  discriminate  between 
them. 

Lady  Jane  Callonby  was  then  about 
twenty  years  of  age.  rather  above  the  mid- 
dle size,  and  slightly  disposed  toward  em- 
bonpoint ;  her  eye  was  of  the  deepest  and 
most  liquid  bine,  and  rendered  apparently 
darker  by  long  lashes  of  the  blackest  jet — 
tor  such  was  the  color  of  her  hair  ;  her 
nose  slightly,  but  slightly,  deviated  from 
the  straightness  of  the  (ireek.'  and  her 
upper  lip  was  faultless,  as  were  her  mouth 
and  chin  :  the  whole  lower  pari  of  the  face, 
from  the  perfect  repose,  and  from  the 
carriage  of  her  head,  had  certainly  a  great 


/tfl  fcArtnr 


"  TO  YOUH  QUARTERS,  SIR,"  ROARED  THE  LITTLE  MAN  WITH  THE  VOICE  OP  A  LION.  AND, 
WITH  A  HAUGHTY  WAVE  OF  HIS  HAND,  PREVENTED  ALL  FURTHER  ATTEMPT  ON  MI 
PART  TO   SEEK   EXPLANATION.      (P.    9.) 


HA  RRY  L  ORREQ  ( rE R. 


17 


air  of  hauteur,  but  the  extreme  melting 
sofi  ness  of  her  eyes  took  from  this,  and 
when  she  spoke,  there  was  a  quiet  earnest- 
ness in  her  mild  and  musical  v^oice,  that 
disarmed  you  at  once  of  conned  ing  the 
idea  of  self  with  the  speaker;  the  word 
"fascinating,"  more  than  any  other  i 
know  of,  conveys  the  effect  of  her  appear- 
ance, and  to  produce  it,  she  had,  more  than 
any  other  woman  1  ever  met,  that  wonder- 
fid'  gift,  "Vartde  plaire." 

I  was  roused  from  my  perhaps  too  car- 
nest,  because  unconscious  gaze,  at  the  love- 
ly figure  before  me,  by  his  lordship  saying, 
';  Mr.  Lorrequer,  her  ladyship  is  wail  ing  for 
you."  1  accordingly  bowed,  and  offering 
my  arm,  led  her  into  the  dinner-room. 
And  here  I  draw  rein  for  the  present,  re- 
serving for  my  next  chapter — My  Adven- 
tures at  Callonby. 


CHAPTER  III. 

LIFE    AT     CALLONBY — LOVE-MAKING — MISS     o'DOWD's 
ADVENTURE. 

My  first  evening  at  Callonby  passed  off 
as  nearly  all  first  evenings  do  everywhere. 
His  lordship  was  most  agreeable,  talked 
much  of  my  uncle,  Sir  Guy,  whose  fag  he 
had  been  at  Eton  half  a  century  before, 
promised  me  some  capital  shooting  in  his 
preserves,  discussed  the  state  of  politics  ; 
and,  as  the  second  decanter  of  port 
"  waned  apace,"  grew  wondrous  confi- 
dential, and  told  me  of  his  intention  to 
start  his  son  for  the  county  at  the  next 
general  election,  such  b:'ing  the  object 
which  had  now  conferred  the  honor  of 
his  presence  on  his  Irish  estates. 

Her  ladyship  was  most  condescendingly 
civil;  vouchsafed  much  tender  commisera- 
tion for  my  "exile,"  as  she  termed  my 
'quarters  in  Ki  brush  ;  wondered  how  I 
could  possibly  exist  in  a  marching  regi- 
ment (who  had  never  been  in  the  cavalry 
in  my  life  !);  spoke  quite  feelingly  of  my 
kindness  in  joining  their  stupid  family 
parly,  for  they  were  living,  to  use  her  own 
phrase,  "like  hermits;"  and  wound  up 
all  by  a  playful  assurance  that  as  she  per- 
ceived, from  all  my  answers,  that  I  was 
bent  on  preserving  a  strict  incognito,  she 
would  tell  no  tales  about  me  on  her  return 
to  "Town."  Now  it  may  readily  be  be- 
lieved that  all  this  and  many  more  of  her 
ladyship's  allusions  were  a  "  Chaldee 
manuscript "  to  me  ;  that  she  knew  cer- 
tain facts  of  my  family  and  relations  was 
certain,  but  that  she  had  interwoven  in 


the  humble    well    of    my    history   a 
prel  i  v  embroidery   of  Bel  ion,  was  equally 
so  ;  and   while  she  t liu-   ran  on.  wis h  in- 
numerable allusion-    io    Lady   Marys  and 

Lord  Johns,  who  -he  pretended   t<.  su 

were  dj  ing  to  hear  from  me.  I  con! 
help'  muttering  to  myself,  with  good 
Christopher  Sly,  "An  all  this  lie  true — 
then.  Lord,  be  thanked  for  my 
amend-  ;  "  for  Lip  to  l  hat  moment  I  was 
an  ungrateful  man  for  all  such  high  and 
noble  soliditude.  One  dark  doubt  shot 
for  an  instant  across  my  brain.  Mayhap 
her  ladyship  had  "  registered  a  vow  " 
never  lo  s\  liable  a  nanie  unchronicled  by 
Debrett,  or  was  actually  only  mystifying 
me  for  mere  amusement.  A  minute's 
consideration  dispelled  this  lea;':  for  I 
found  myself  treated  en  seigneur  by  the 
whole  family.  As  lor  the  daughters  oi 
the  house,  nothing  could  possibly  lie  more 
engaging  than  their  manner.  1 
Lady  Jane,  was  pleased,  from  my  near  :■  - 
lationship  to  her  father's  oldest  friend,  to 
receive  me,  "from  the  first,"  on  the  most 
friendly  footing,  while,  with  tic 
Lady  Catherine,  from  her  being 
served  than  her  sister,  my  progress  was 
even  greater;  and  thus,  before  we  separat- 
ed for  the  night,  I  contrived  to  "  take  up 
my  position"  in  such  a  fashion  as  to  la 
already  looked  upon  as  one  of  the  family 
party,  to  which  object  Lord,  and  indeed 
Lady,  Callonby  seemed  most  willing  to 
contribute,  and  made  me  promise  to  spend 
the  entire  of  the  following  day  at  Callonby. 
and  as  many  of  the  succeeding  ones  as  my 
military  duties  would  permit. 

As  his  lordship  was  wishing  me  "good- 
night" at  the  door  of  the  drawing-room. 
lie  said,  in  a  half  whisper, — 

"We  were  ignorant  yesterday,  Mr. 
Lorrequer,  how  soon  we'  should  have  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you  here  ;  and  you  are 
therefore  condemned  to  a  small  room  off 
the  library,  it  being  the  only  one  we  can 
insure  yon  as  being  well  aired.  I  must 
therefore  apprise  you  that  you  are  not  to 
be  shocked  at  finding  yourself  surrounded 
by  every  member  of  my  family  hung  up  in 
frames  around  you.  But  as  the  room  is 
usually  my  own  snuggery,  1  have  resig 
it  without  any  alteration  whatever." 

The  apartment  for  which  his  lordship 
had  so  strongly  apologized,  stood  in  very 
pleasing  contrast  to  my  late  one  in  Kil- 
rush. "The  soft  Persian  carpet,  on  which 
one's  feet  sank  to  the  very  ankles;  the 
brightly  polished  dogs,  upon  which  a  blaz- 
ing wood  iire  burned  ;  the  well  upholstered 
fauteuils  which  seemed  to  invite  sleep 
without  the  trouble  of  lying  down  for  it  ; 


18 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


and  last  of  all,  the  ample  and  luxurious 
bed.  upon  whose  rich  purple  hangings  the 
ruddy  glare  of  bhe  fire  threw  ji  most  mel- 
low light,  were  all  a  pleasing  exchange  for 
the  garniture  of  the  "Hotel  Healy." 

"Certes,  Harry  Lorrequer,"  said  I,  as  I 
threw  myself  upon  a  small  ottoman  before 
the  fire,  in  all  the  slippered  ease  and  aban- 
don of  a,  man  who  has  changed  a  dress  coat 
for  a  morning  gown, — "oertes,  thou  art 
destined  for  great  things;  even  here,  where 
fate  had  seemed  'to  do  its  worst'  to  thee, 
a  little  paradise  opens,  and  what,  to  ordi- 
nary mortals,  had  proved  but  a  'flat,  stale, 
and  most,  unprofitable  '  quarter,  presents 
to  thee  all  the  accumulated  delight  of  an 
hospitable  mansion,  a  kind,  almost  friend- 
ly, host,  a  condescending  Madame  Mere, 
and  daughters  too  !  ah,  ye  Gods  !  But 
what  is  this?"  And  here  for  the  first 
time  lifting  up  my  eyes,  I  perceived  a  beau- 
tiful water-color  drawing  in  the  style  of 
"  Chalon,"  which  was  placed  above  the 
chimney-piece.  I  rose  at  once,  and  taking 
a  candle,  proceeded  to  examine  it  more  mi- 
nutely. It  was  a  portrait  of  Lady  Jane,  a 
full-length  too,  and  wonderfully  like;  there 
was  more  complexion,  and  perhaps  more 
roundness  of  the  figure  than  her  present 
appearance  would  justify;  but  if  anything 
was  gained  in  brilliancy,  it  was  certainly 
lost  in  point  of  expression,  and  I  infinitely 
preferred  her  pale,  but  beautifully  fair 
countenance,  to  the  rosy  cheek  of  the  pic- 
ture. The  figure  was  faultless;  the  same 
easy  grace  the  result  of  perfect  symmetry 
and  refinement  together,  which  only  one  in 
a  thousand  of  handsome  girls  possess,  was 
portrayed  to  the  life.  The  more  I  looked, 
the  more  I  felt  charmed  with  it.  Never 
had  I  seen  anything  so  truly  characteristic 
as  this  sketch,  for  it  was  scarcely  more.  It 
was  after  nearly  an  hour's  quiet  contempla- 
tion that  I  began  to  remember  the  lateness 
of  the  night,  an  hour  in  which  my  thoughts 
had  rambled  from  the  lovely  object  before 
me  to  wonder  at  the  situation  in  which  I 
found  myself  placed;  for  there  was  so 
much  of  "attention"  toward  me,  in  the 
manner  of  every  member  of  the  family, 
coupled  with  certain  mistakes  as  to  my 
habits  and  acquaintances,  as  left  me  per- 
fectly unable  to  unravel  the  mystery  which 
so  evidently  surrounded  me.  "  Perhaps," 
thought  I,  "Sir  Guy  has  written  in  my 
behalf  to  his  lordship.  Oh,  he  would 
never  do  anything  half  so  civil.  Well,  to 
be  sure,  I  shall  astonish  them  at  head- 
quarters: they'll  not  believe  this.  I  won- 
der if  Lady  Jane  saw  my  'Hamlet;'  for 
they  landed  in  Cork  from  Bristol  about 
that  time.     She  is  indeed  a  most  beautiful 


girl.  I  wish  I  were  a  marquis,  if  it  were 
only  for  her  sake.     Well,  my  Lord  Callon- 

bv.  you  may  be  a  very  wise  man  in  the 
House  of  Lords;  but  I  would  just  ask,  i.-s 
it  exactly  prudent  to  introduce  into  your 
family,  on  terms  of  such  perfect  intimacy, 
a  young,  fascinating,  well-looking  fellow, 
of  four-and-twenl  v.  albeit  only  a  subaltern, 
witli  two  such  daughters  as  you  have  ? 
Peut-etre!  One  thing  is  certain— J  have 
no  cause  of  complaint;  and  so  good  night, 
Lady  Jane."  And  with  these  words  I  fell 
asleep  to  dream  of  the  deepest  blue  eyes, 
and  the  most  melting  tones  that  ever  re- 
duced a  poor  lieutenant  in  a  marching 
regiment  to  curse  his  fate  that  be  could 
not  call  the  Commander  of  the  Forces  his 
father. 

When  I  descended  to  the  break  fast- 
room,  I  found  the  whole  family  assembled 
in  a  group  around  Lord  Kilkee,  who  had 
just  returned  from  a  distant  part  of  the 
county,  where  he  had  been  canvassing  the 
electors,  and  spouting  patriotism  the  day 
before.  He  was  giving  an  account  of  his 
progress  with  much  spirit  and  humor  as  I 
entered,  but,  on  seeing  me, .  immediately 
came  forward  and  shook  hands  with  me 
like  an  old  acquaintance.  By  Lord  Cal- 
lonby  and  the  ladies  I  was  welcomed  also 
with  much  courtesy  and  kindness,  and 
some  slight  badinage  passed  upon  my 
sleeping  in  what  Lord  Kilkee  called  the 
"Picture  Gallery,"  which,  for  all  I  knew 
to  the  contrary,  contained  but  one  fair- 
portrait.  I  am  not  a  believer  in  Mesmer; 
but  certainly  there  must  have  been  some 
influence  at  work  very  like  what  we  hear 
of  in  magnetism — for  before  the  breakfast 
was  concluded,  there  seemed  at  once  to 
spring  up  a  perfect  understanding  between 
this  family  and  myself,  which  made  me 
feel  as  much  chez  moi  as  I  had  ever  done 
in  my  life;  and  from  that  hour  I  may  date 
an  intimacy  which  every  succeeding  day 
but  served  to  increase. 

After  breakfast,  Lord  Callonby  con- 
signed me  to  the  guidance  of  his  son,  and 
we  sallied  forth  to  deal  destruction  amongst 
the  pheasants,  with  which  the  preserves 
were  stocked ;  and  here  I  may  observe,  en 
passant,  that  with  the  single  exception  of 
fox-hunting,  which  was  ever  a  passion  with 
me,  I  never  could  understand  that  invet- 
erate pursuit  of  game  to  which  some  men 
devote  themselves — thus,  grouse-shooting, 
and  its  attendant  pleasures,  of  stumping 
over  a  boggy  mountain  from  daylight  till 
dark,  never  had  much  attraction  for  me  ; 
and,  as  to  the  delights  of  widgeon  and 
wild-duck  shooting,  when  purchased  by 
sitting  up  all  night  in  a  barrel,  with  your 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


19 


eye  to  the  bung,  I'll  none  of  it — no,  no  ! 
give  me' shooting  or  angling  merely  as  a 
divertimento,  a  pleasant  interlude  between 
breakfast  and  luncheon-time,  when,  con- 
signing your  Man! on  to  a  corner,  and  the 
gamekeeper  "to  the  dogs,"  you  once  more 
humanize  your  costume  to  take  a  canter 
with  the  (laughters  of  the  house;  or,  if  the 
day  look  loweringly,  a  match  of  billiards 
with  the  men. 

I  have  ever  found  that  the  happiest  por- 
tions of  existence  are  the  most  difficult  to 
chronicle.  We  may — nay, we  must,  impart 
our  miseries  and  annoyances  to  our  many 
"  dear  friends,"  whose  forte  is  sympathy 
or  consolation — and  all  men  are  eloquent 
on  the  subject  of  their  woes;  not  so  with 
their  joys:  some  have  a  miser-like  pleasure 
in  hoarding  them  up  for  their  own  private 
gratification:  others — -and  they  are  prudent 
— feel  that  the  narrative  is  scarcely  agree- 
able even  to  their  best  friends;  and  a  few, 
of  whom  I  confess  myself  one,  are  content 
to  be  happy  without  knowing  why,  and  to 
have  pleasant  souvenirs  without  being  able 
to  explain  them. 

Such  must  be  my  apology  for  not  more 
minutely  entering  upon  an  account  of  my 
life  at  Callonby.  A  fortnight  had  now 
seen  me  eufonce,  the  daily  companion  of 
two  beautiful  girls  in  all  their  walks  and 
rides,  through  a  romantic,  unfrequented 
country,  seeing  but  little  of  the  other  mem- 
bers of  the  family;  the  gentlemen  being  en- 
tirely occupied  with  their  election  tactics, 
and  Lady  Callonby  being  a  late  riser,  sel- 
dom appeared  before  the  dinner  hour. 
There  was  not  a  cliff  on  the  bold  and  rocky 
coast 'we  did  not  climb,  not  a  cave  upon 
the  pebbly  beach  unvisited;  sometimes  my 
fair  companions  would  bring  a  volume  of 
Metastasio  down  to  the  little  river  where  I 
used  to  angle;  and  the  -'gentle  craft  "  was 
oft  abandoned  for  the  heart-thrilling  verses 
of  that  delightful  poet.  Yes,  many  years 
have  passed  over,  and  these  scenes  are  stiil 
as  fresh  in  my  memory  as  though  they  had 
been  of  yesterday.  In  my  memory,  1  say, 
"as- for  thee," 

' '  Chi  sa  se  mai 
Ti  sovverrai  di  me?" 

At  the  end  of  three  weeks  the  house  be- 
came full  of  company,  from  the  garret  to 
the  cellar.  Country  gentlemen  and  their 
wives  and  daughters  came  pouring  in,  on 
every  species  of  conveyance  known  since 
the  Flood;  family  coaches,  which,  but  for 
their  yellow  panels,  might  have  been  mis- 
taken for  hearses,  and  high  barouches,  the 
ascent  to   which   was   accomplished   by   a 


step-ladder,  followed  each  other  in  what 
appeared  a  ne\  er-ending  on ;  and 

Inn  I  maj  note  an  instance  of  t lie  anoma- 
lous character  of  the  convi  from  an 
incident    to  which  1   was  a  witness  al    the 

I  line. 

Among  the  visitors  on  the  second  day 
came  a  maiden  lad;  from  the  neighbor- 
hood    of     Ennistimon,     Mise     Elizabeth 

O'Dowd,   the  last   of  a  ver\   old  and    highly 

respectable  family  in  the  county,  and 
whose  extensive  property,  thickly  studded 
with  freeholders,  was  a  strong  reason  for 
her  being  paid  every  at  ten!  ion  in  Lord 
Callonby's  power  to  bestow.  Miss  Betty 
O'Dowd — for  so  she  was  popularly  styled 
—  vvas  the  very  personification  of  an  old 
maid;  stiff  as  a  ramrod,  and  50  rigid  in  ob- 
servance of  "the  proprieties  of  female  con- 
duct, that,  in  the  estimation  of  the  CI 
gentry,  Diana  was  a  hoyden  compared  to 
her. 

Miss  Betty  lived,  as  I  have  said. 
Ennistimon,  and  the  road  from  thenci 
Callonby  at  the  time  I  speak  of — it  was  be- 
fore Mr.  Nimmo — was  as  like  the  lied  of  a 
mountain  torrent  as  a  respectable  high- 
way ;  there  were  holes  that  would  have 
made  a  grave  for  any  maiden  lady  within 
fifty  miles  ;  and  rocks  thickly  scattered, 
enough  to  prove  fatal  to  the  strongest 
wheels  that  ever  issued  from  •'  Hutton's." 
Miss  O'Dowd  knew  this  well — she  had 
upon  one  occasion  been  upset  in  traveling 
it — and  a  slate-colored  silk  dress  bore  the 
dye  of  every  species  of  mud  and  mire  to  be 
found  there,  for  many  a  year  after,  to  re- 
mind her  of  her  misfortune,  and  keep  open 
the  wound  of  her  sorrow.  When,  there- 
fore, the  invitation  to  Callonby  arrived,  a 
grave  council  of  war  was  summoned,  to 
deliberate  upon  the  mode  of  transit,  for 
the  honor  could  not  be  declined,  "coiiti 
qiCil  coute"  The  chariot  was  out  of  the 
question:  Nicholas  declared  it  would  never 
reach  the  "  Moraan  Leg."  as  the  first  pre- 
cipice was  called  ;  the  inside  car  was  long 
since  pronounced  unlit  for  hazardous  en- 
terprise ;  and  the  only  resource  left,  was 
what  is  called,  in  Hibernian  parlance,  a 
"low-backed  car,"  that  is.  a  car  without 
any  back  whatever  :  it  being  neither  more 
nor  less  than  the  common  agricultural 
conveyance  of  the  country,  upon  which,  a 
feather-bed  being  laid,  the  farmer.-'  wives 
and  daughters  are  generally  conveyed  to 
fairs,  wakes,  and  stations,  &c.  Putting 
her  dignity,  if  not  in  her  pocket,  at  least 
wherever  it  could  be  most  easily  accom- 
modated, Miss  O'Dowd  placed  her  fair 
self,  in  all  the  plenitude  of  her  charms 
and   the   grandeur  of   a  ;;  bran-new   green 


XO 


CHARLES  LEVERS    WORKS. 


silk,"  a  "little  off  the  grass,  and  on  the 
bottle"  (I  love  to  be  particular),  upon  this 
humble  conveyance,  and  set  out  on  her 
way,  if  not  "  rejoicing,"  at  leasi  consoled 
by  Nicholas,  that  "It  'id  be  black  dark 
when  they  reached  the  house,  and  the 
devil  a  one  'id  he  the  wiser  than  if  she 
came  in  a  coach  and  four."  Nicholas  was 
right;  it  was  perfectly  dark  on  their  ar- 
rival ;ii,  Callonby,  and  Miss  O'Dowd  hav- 
ing dismounted,  and  shaken  her  plumage, 
a  little  crumpled  by  her  half-recumbent 
position  for  eight  miles,  appeared  in  the 
drawing-room,  to  receive  the  most  court- 
eous attentions  from  Lady  Callonby,  and 
from  his  lordship  the  most  flattering 
speeches  for  her  kindness  in  risking  her- 
self and  bringing  "  her  horses  "  on  such  a 
dreadful  road,  and  assured  her  of  his  get- 
ting a  presentment  the  very  next  assizes  to 
repair  it, — -"  For  we  intend,  Miss  O'Dowd," 
said  he,  "  to  be  most  troublesome  neighbors 
to  you  in  future." 

The  evening  passed  off  most  happily. 
Miss  O'Dowd  was  delighted  with  her 
hosts,  whose  character  she  resolved  to  up- 
hold in  spite  of  their  reputation  for  pride 
and  haughtiness.  Lady  Jane  sang  an 
Irish  melody  for  her,  Lady  Callonby  gave 
her  slips  of  a  rose  geranium  she  got  from 
the  Princess  Augusta,  and  Lord  Kilkee 
won  her  heart  by  the  performance  of  that 
most  graceful  step  yclept  "  cover  the 
buckle,"  in  an  Irish  jig.  But  alas  !  how 
short-lived  is  human  bliss,  for  while  this 
estimable  lady  reveled  in  the  full  enjoy- 
ment of  the  hour.'  the  sword  of  Damocles 
hung  suspended  above  her  head  ;  in  plain 
English,  she  had,  on  arriving  at  Callonby, 
to  prevent  any  unnecessary  scrutiny  into 
the  nature  of  her  conveyance,  ordered  Nich- 
olas to  be  at  the  door  punctually  at  eleven  ; 
and  then,  to  take  an  opportunity  of  cjuiet- 
ly  slipping  open  the  drawing-room  door, 
and  giving  her  an  intimation  of  it,  that  she 
might  take  her  leave  at  once.  Nicholas 
was  up  to  time,  and  having  disposed  the 
conveyance  under  the  shadow  of  the  porch, 
made  his  way  to  the  door  of  the  drawing- 
room  unseen  and  unobserved.  He  opened 
it  gently  and  noiselessly,  merely  sufficient 
to  take  a  survey  of  the  apartment,  in 
which,  from  the  glare  of  the  lights,  and  the 
busy  hum  of  voices,  he  was  so  bewildered 
that  it  was  some  minutes  before  he  recog- 
nized his  mistress.  At  last  he  perceived 
her;  she  was  seated  at  a  card-table,  play- 
ing whist  with  Lord  Callonby  for  her  part- 
ner. Who  the  other  players  were,  he  knew 
not.  A  proud  man  was  Nicholas,  as  he 
saw  his  mistress  thus  placed,  actually  sit- 
ting, as  he  afterwards  expressed  it,,  "fore- 


11  i n I  the  Lord  ;"  but  his  thoughts  were 
heni  on  other  matters,  and  it  was  no  time 
to  indulge  his  \  aunt  ingS. 

He  strove  for  some  time  patiently  to 
catch  her  eye,  for  she  was  80  situated  as  to 
permit,  of  this,  but-  without  success.  lie 
then  made  a  slighl  attempt  to  attract  her 
attention  by  beckoning  with  his  finger  all 
in  vain.  "  Oh,  murther,"  said  he,  '•  what 
is  this  for?  I "  1 1  have  to  spake  afther  all." 

"  Four  by  honors,"  said  his  lordship, 
"and  the  odd  trick.  Another  double,  I 
believe,  Miss  O'Dowd." 

Miss  O'Dowd  nodded  a  graceful  assent, 
while  a  sharp-looking  old  dowager  at  the 
side  of  the  table  called  out,  "A  rubber  of  four 
only,  my  lord  :  "  and  now  began  an  explan- 
ation from  the  whole  party  at  once.  Nich- 
olas saw  this  was  his  time,  and  thought 
that  in  the  melee,  his  hint  might  reach  his 
mistress  unobserved  by  the  remainder  of 
the  company.  He  accordingly  protruded 
his  head  into  the  room,  and  placing  his 
finger  on  the  side  of  his  nose,  and  shutting 
one  eye  knowingly,  with  an  air  of  great 
secrecy,  whispered  out,  "Miss  Betty — 
Miss  Betty,  alanah  ! "  For  some  minutes 
the  hum  of  the  voices  drowned  his  admon- 
itions, but  as,  by  degrees  waxing  warmer 
in  the  cause,  he  called  out  more  loudly, 
every  eye  was  turned  to  the  spot  from 
whence  these  extraordinary  sounds  pro- 
ceeded; and  certainly  the  appearance  of 
Nicholas  at  the  moment  was  well  calculat- 
ed to  astonish  the  company  of  a  drawing- 
room.  With  his  one  eye  fixed  eagerly  in 
the  direction ~  of  his  mistress,  his  red 
scratch  wig  pushed  back  off  his  forehead, 
in  the  eagerness  of  his  endeavor  to  be 
heard,  there  he  stood,  perfectly  unmindful 
of  all  around,  save  Miss  O'Dowd  herself. 
It  may  well  be  believed  that  such  an  appar- 
ition could  not  be  witnessed  with  gravity, 
and,  accordingly,  a  general  titter  ran 
through  the  room,  the  Avhist  party,  still 
contending  about  odd  tricks  and  honors, 
being  the  only  persons  insensible  to  the 
mirth  around  them.  "Miss  Betty,  arrah, 
Miss  Betty,"  said  Nicholas,  with  a  sigh, 
that  converted  the  subdued  laughter  of  the 
guests  into  a  perfect  burst  of  mirth. 

"Eh,"  said  his  lordship,  turning  round, 
what  is  this  ?  We  are  losing  something 
excellent,  I  fear." 

At  this  moment,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of 
Nicholas,  and,  throwing  himself  back  in 
his  chair,  laughed  immoderately.  It  was 
now  Miss  Betty's  turn  ;  she  was  about  to 
rise  from  the  table,  when  the  well-known 
accents  of  Nicholas  fell  upon  her  ear.  She 
fell  hack  in  her  seat — there  he  was  :  the 
messenger  of  the  foul  fiend  himself  would 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


21 


have  been  more  welcome  at  thai  moment. 
Her  blood  rushed  to  her  face  and  temples  ; 
her  hands  tingled  ;  she  closed  hereyes,  and 
when  she  opened  them  there  stood  the  ac- 
cursed Nicholas  glowering  at  her  still. 

"Man — man!"  said  she  ai  length, 
"what  do  you  mean  ?  What  do  you  want 
here  ?" 

Poor  Nicholas,  lit  tie  guessing  that  the 
question  was  intended  to  throw  a  doubt 
upon  her  acquaintance  with  him,  and  con- 
ceiving that  the  hour  for  the  announce- 
meni  had  come,  hesitated  for  an  instant 
how  he  should,  designate  the  conveyance. 
He  could  not  call  it  a  coach  !  it  certainly 
was  not  a  buggy — neither  was  it  a  jaunt- 
ing-car: what  should  he  say!  He  looked 
earnestly,  and  even  imploringly,  at  his 
mistress,  as  if  to  convey  some  sense  of  his 
difficulty,  and  then,  as  it  were  catching  a 
sudden  inspiration,  winked  once  more,  as 
he  said. — 

"  Miss  Betty— the— the— the "—and 

here  he  looked  indescribably  droll— "' the 
thing  you  know  is  at  the  door." 

AH  his  lordship's  politeness  was  too  lit- 
tle for  the  occasion,  and  Miss  O'Dowd's 
tenantry  were  lost  to  the  Callonby  interest 
forever. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

BOTANICAL  STUDIES — THE   NATURAL   SYSTEM   PREFER- 
ABLE  TO   THE    LINNJEAN. 

"  The  carriage  is  at  the  door,  my  lord," 
said  a  servant,  entering  the  luncheon-room 
where  Ave  were  all  assembled. 

"Now  then,  Mr.  Lorrequer,"  said.  Lord 
Callonby,  "  aliens,  take  another  glass  of 
wine,  and  let  us  away.  I  expect  you  to 
make  a  most  brilliant  speech,  remem- 
ber !" 

His  lordship  here  alluded  to  our  inten- 
tion of  visiting  a  remote  barony,  where  a 
meeting  of  the  freeholders  was  that  day  to 
be  held,  and  at  which  I  was  pledged  for  a 
"neat  and  appropriate "  oration  in  abuse 
of  the  Corn-laws  and  the  Holy  Alliance. 

"  I  beg  pardon,  my  lord."  said  her  lady- 
ship, in  a  most  languishing  tone:  "but 
Mr.  Lorrequer  is  pre-engaged  :  he  has  for 
the  last  week  been  promising  and  deferring 
his  visit  to  the  new  conservatory  with  me, 
where  he  is  to  find  out  four  or  five  of  the 
Swiss  shrubs  that  Collins  cannot  make 
out — and  which  I  am  dying  to  know  all 
about." 

"Mr.  Lorrequer  is  a  false  man  then," 
said  Lady  Catherine.  "  for  he  said  at 
breakfast  that  we  should  devote  this  after- 


noon to  the  chalk-cav<  •■.  as  the  tide  will  be 
so  far  out,  that  we  can  see  them  all  per- 
fectly. " 

"  Afid  I,"  said  Lord  Kill  ee,  "musl  pat 
in  my  plea,  thai  the  aforesaid  Mr.  Lorre- 
quer is  booked  tor  a,  coursing  match  - 
'Mouche  versus  Jes  ie.' — Guilty  or  not 
guilty  ?" 

Lady  Jane  alone  of  all  said  not  a  word. 

-•  Guilty  on  every  counl  of  i  he  indict- 
ment," said  1;  "1  throw  myself  on  the 
mercy  of  t  he  court." 

••  Lei  his  sentence  then  be  banishment," 
said  Lady  Catherine,  with  affected  anger, 
"  ami  let   him  go  wit  h  papa." 

••  I  rather  think,"  said  Lord  Kilkee. 
"the  better  plan  is  to  let  him  visit  the 
conservatory,  for  I'd  wager  a  fifty  he  finds 
it  more  difficult  to  invent  botany  than 
canvass  freeholders — eh  ?" 

"I  am  sure,"  said  Lady  Jane,  for  the 
first  time  breaking  silence,  "  that  mamma 
is  infinitely  flattered  by  the  proposal  that 
Mr.  Lorrequer's  compan}  is  to  be  conferred 
upon  her  for  her  sins." 

"I  am  not  to  be  affronted,  nor  quizzed 
out  of  my  chaperon;  here,  Mr.  Lorrequer." 
said  Lady  Callonby.  rising,  "get  Smith's 
book  there,  and  let  me  have  your  arm  ; 
and  now,  young  ladies,  come  along,  and 
learn  something,  if  you  can.'' 

"An  admirable  proviso,"  said  Lord  Kil- 
kee, laughing,  "if  his  botany  be  only  as 
authentic  as  the  autographs  he  gave  Mrs. 
MacDermot,  and  all  of  which  he  wrote 
himself,  in  my  dressing-room,  in  half  an 
hour.  Napoleon  was  the  only  difficult  one 
in  the  number." 

Most  fortunately  this  unfair  disclosure 
did  not  reach  her  ladyship's  ears,  as  she 
was  busily  engaged  putting  on  her  bonnet, 
and  I  was  yet  unassailed  in  reputation  to 
her. 

li  Good-bye,  then,"  said  Lord  Callonby; 
"we  meet  at  seven."  And  in  a  few  mo- 
ments the  little  party  were  scattered  to 
their  several  destinations. 

"How  very  hot  you  have  this  place,  Col- 
lins," said  Lady  Callonby,  as  we  entered 
the  conservatory. 

"Only  seventy-five,  my  lady,  and  the 
magnolias  require  heat." 

I  here  dropped  a  little  behind,  as  if  to 
examine  a  plant,  and  in  a  half-whisper  said 
to  Lady  Jane, — 

"  How  came  it  that  you  alone,  Lady 
Jane,  should  forget  that  I  had  made  an- 
other appointment?  I  thought  you  wished 
to  make  a  sketch  of  Craigmoran  Abbey — 
did  you  forget  that  we  were  to  ride  there 
to-day  ? " 

Before  she  could   reply,  Lady  Callonby 


22 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


called  out — t:  Oh,  here  it  is,  Mr.  Lorre- 
quer. Is  this  ;i  heath  ?  that  is  the  ques- 
tion." 

Here  her  ladyship  pointed  to  » little 
scrubby  thing,  that  looked  very  like  a 
birch  rod.  I  proceeded  to  examine  it 
most  minutely,  while  Collins  waited  with 
all  the  intense  anxiety  of  a  man  whose 
character  depended  on  the  sentence. 

"Collins  will  have  it  a  jungermania," 
said  she. 

"And  Collins  is  right,"  said  I,  not  trust- 
ing myself  with  the  pronunciation  of  the 
awful  word  her  ladyship  uttered. 
Collins  looked  ridiculously  happy. 
.  "Now  that  is  so  delightful,"  said  Lady 
Callonby,  as  she  stopped  to  look  for  an- 
other puzzle. 

"  What  a  wretch  it  is,"  said  Lady  Cath- 
erine, covering  her  face  with  a  handker- 
chief. 

"What  a  beautiful  little  flower,''  said 
Lady  Jane,  lifting  up  the  bell  of  a  lobelia 
splendens. 

"  You    know,  of  course,"  said  I,  "  Avhat 
they  call  that  flower  in  France — L'amour 
tend  re." 
"Indeed!" 

"True,  I  assure  you;  may  I  present  you 
with  this  sprig  of  it  ?  "  cutting  off  a  small 
twig,  and  presenting  it  at  the  same  instant 
unseen  by  the  others. 

She  hesitated  for  an  instant,  and  then, 
extending  her  fair  and  taper  hand,  took  it. 
I  dared  not  look  at  her  as  she  did  so,  but  a 
proud  swelling  triumph  at  my  heart  near- 
ly choked  me. 

"Now,  Collins,"  said  Lady  Callonby, 
"I  cannot  find  the  Alpen-tree  I  brought 
from  the  Griindenwald." 

Collins  hurried  forward  to  her  ladyship's 
side. 

Lady  Catherine  was  also  called  to  assist 
in  the  search. 

I  was  alone  with  Lady  Jane. 
"Now  or  never,"  thought  I;  I  hesitated 
— T  stammered — my  voice  faltered.  She 
saw  my  agitation;  she  participated  in,  and 
increased  it.  At  last  I  summoned  up 
courage  to  touch  her  hand  ;  she  gently 
withdrew  it — but  so  gently,  it  was  not  a 
repulse. 

"  If  Lady  Jane,"  said   I  at  length— "  if 

the  devoted " 

"Halloa,  there,"  said  a  deep  voice  with- 
out, "  is  Mr.  Lorrequer  there  ?" 

It  was  Lord  Kilkee,  returned  from  his 
coursing  match.  .None  but  he  who  has 
felt  such  an  interruption  can  feel  for  me. 
I  shame  to  say  that  his  brotherhood  to 
her,  for  whom  I  would  have  perilled  my 
life,   restrained   me   not  from    something 


very   like  a  hearty  commendation   of  him 
to  the  powers  that 

"  Down,  dogs,  there — down!"  continued 
he,  and  in  a  moment  after  entered  She 
conservatory,  flushed  and  heated  with  the 
chase. 

"  Mouche  is  the  winner — two  to  one — - 
and  so,  Master  Shallow,  I  owe  you  a  thou- 
sand pounds." 

Would  to  Heaven  that  I  had  lost  the  wa- 
ger, had  it  only  taken  a  little  longer  to  decide 
it !  I  of  course  appeared  overjoyed  at  my 
dog's  success,  and  listened  with  great  pre- 
tense of  interest  to  the  narrative  of  the 
"  run  ;"  the  more  so  because,  that  though 
perhaps  more  my  friend  than  the  older 
members  of  the  family,  Lord  Kilkee  evi- 
dently liked  less  than  them  my  growing 
intimacy  with  his  sister;  and  I  was  anxious 
to  blind  him  on  the  present  occasion,  when, 
but  for  his  recent  excitement,  very  little 
penetration  Avould  have  enabled  him  to 
detect  that  something  unusual  had  taken 
place. 

It  was  noAV  so  nearly  dark,  that  her 
ladyship's  further  search  for  the  alpine 
treasure  became  impossible,  and  so  we 
turned  our  steps  toward  the  garden, w£ ere 
we  continued  to  walk  till  joined  by.  Lord. 
Callonby.  And  now  began  a  most  active 
discussion  upon  agriculture,  rents,  tithes, 
and  Toryism,  in  which  the  ladies  took  but 
little  part;  and  I  had  the  mortification  to 
perceive  that  Lady  Jane  was  excessively 
bored,  and  seized  the  first  opportunity  to 
leave  the  party  and  return  to  the  house  ; 
while  her  sister  gave  me  from  time  to  time 
certain  knowing  glances,  as  if  intimating 
that  my  knowledge  of  farming  and  politi- 
cal economy  were  pretty  much  on  a  par 
with  my  proficiency  in  botany. 

"  One  has  discovered  me  at  least," 
thought  I  ;  but  the  bell  bad  rung  to  dress 
for  dinner,  and  I  hastened  to  my  room  to 
think  over  future  plans,  and  once  more 
wonder  at  the  singular  position  into  which 
fate  and  the  "rules  of  the  service"  had 
thrown  me. 


CHAPTER  V. 

PUZZLED — EXPLANATION  MAKES  BAD  WORSE — A  DUEL. 

"Any  letters  ?"  said  her  ladyship  to  a 
servant,  as  she  crossed  the  hall. 

"  Only  one,  my  lady — for  Mr.  Lorrequer, 
I  believe." 

"  For  me  !"  thought  I ;  "  how  is  this  ?" 
My  letters  had  been  hitherto  always  left 
in  Ivilrush.  Why  was  this  forwarded 
here?     I    hurried    to    the    drawing-room, 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


23 


where  I  found  a  double  letter  awaiting  me. 
The  writing  was  Ourzon's,  and  contained 
the  words  "  To  be  forwarded  with  haste" 
on  the  direction.  I  opened  and  read  as 
follows  : 

"Dear  Lorkeq.uku,— Have  you  any 
recollection,  among  your  numerous  'esca- 
pades' at  Cork;  of  having  grievously  in- 
sulted a  certain  Mr.  Giles  Beamish,  in 
thought,  word,  or  deed  ?  If  you  have.  I 
say,  let  me  know,  with  all  convenient 
dispatch  whether  the  offense  be  one  ad- 
mitting of  apology — for  if  not,  the  Lord 
have  mercy  on  your  soul — a  more  worthy 
gentleman  than  the  aforesaid  it  having 
rarely  been  my  evil  fortune  to  foregather  j 
with.  He  called  here  yesterday  to  inquire 
your  address,  and  at  my  suggestion  wrote  ! 
a  note  which  I  now  inclose.  I  write  in 
great  haste,  and  am  ever  yours  faithfully, 

"C.  Ccrzox. 

"N.B. — I  have  not  seen  his  note,-  so  ex- 
plain all  and  everything." 

The  inclcsed  ran  thus  : 

"Sir,— It  can  scarcely  have  escaped 
your  -memory,  though  now  nearly  two 
months  since,' that  at  the  Mayor's  dejeu- 
ner in  Cork,  you  were  pleased  to  make 
merry  at  my  expense,  and  expose  me  and 
my  family  for  your  amusement.  This  is 
to  demand  an  immediate  apology,  or  that 
satisfaction  which,  as  an  officer,  you  will 
not  refuse  your  most  obedient  servant, 
"  Giles  Beamish. 
"  Swinburne's  Hotel." 

"Giles  Beamish  !  Giles  Beamish  !"  said 
I,  repeating  the  name  in  every  variety  of 
emphasis,  hoping  to  obtain  some  clew  to 
the  writer.  Had  I  been  appointed  the 
umpire  between  Dr.  Wall  and  his  review- 
ers, in  the  late  controversy  about  "  Pho- 
netic signs,"  I  could  not  have  been  more 
completely  puzzled  than  by  the  contents  of 
this  note.  "  Make  merry  at  his  expense  !  " 
a  great  offense  truly — I  suppose  I  have 
laughed  at  better  men  than  ever  he  was  ; 
and  I  can  only  say  of  such  innocent  amuse- 
ment, as  Falstaff  did  of  sack  and  sugar,  if 
such  be  a  sin,  "  then  Heaven  help  the 
wicked."  But  I  wish  I  knew  who  he  is, 
or  what  he  alludes  to,  provided  he  is  not 
mad,  which  I  begin  to  think  not  improb- 
able. "By  the  by,  my  Lord,  do  you  know 
any  such  person  in  the  south  as  a  Mr. 
Beamish — Giles  Beamish  ?" 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  Lord  Callonby,  look- 
ing up  from    his    newspaper,  "there  are 


several  of  the  name  of  the  highest  respect- 
ability. One  is  an  alderman  of  Cork — a 
very  rich  man,  too— but  I  don't  remember 
his  Christian  name." 

"An  alderman,  did  yon  say?" 

"Yes,  Alderman  Beamish  is  very  will 
known.  I  have  -ecu  him  frequently — a 
short,  florid,  little  man." 

"Oh,  it  must  be  he,"  said  T,  musingly; 
"it  must  have  been  this  worthy  alderman 
from  whose  worshipful  person  I  tore  the 
robe  of  office  on  the  night  of  the  fete.  But 
what  does  he  mean  by  '  my  exposing  him 
and  his  family  ?'  Why,  zounds,  his  wife 
and  children  were  not  with  him  oil  the 
pavement.  Oh,  I  see  it;  it  is  the  Mansion 
House  school  of  eloquence;  did  not  Sir 
William  Curtis  apologize  for  not  appear- 
ing at  court  from  having  losi  an  eye,  which 
he  designated  as  an  awful  '  domestic  cal- 
amity ?' " 

It  being  now  settled  to  my  satisfaction 
that  Mr.  Beamish  and  the  great  uncloaked 
were  "convertible  terms,"  I  set  about 
making  the  amende  in  the  most  handsome 
manner  possible.  I  wrote  to  the  alderman 
a  most  pacific  epistle,  regretting  that  my 
departure  from  Cork  deprived  me  of  mak- 
ing reparation  before,  and  expressing  a 
most  anxious  hope  that  "he  caught  no 
cold,"  and  a  fervent  wish  that  "he  would 
live  many  years  to  grace  and  ornament  the 
dignity  of  which  his  becoming  costume 
Avas  the  emblem."  This  I  inclosed  in  a 
note  to  Curzon,  telling  him  how  the  mat- 
ter occurred,  and  requesting  that  he  would 
send  it  by  his  servant,  together  Avith  the 
scarlet  vestment  which  he  would  find  in 
my  dressing-room.  Having  folded  and 
sealed  this  dispatch,  I  turned  to  give  Lord 
Callonby  an  account  of  the  business,  and 
showed 'him  Beamish \s  note,  at  which  he 
was  greatly  amused:  and,  indeed,  it  fur- 
nished food  for  mirth  for  the  whole  party 
during  the  evening.  The  next  morning 
I  set  out  with  Lord  Callonby  on  the 
long-threatened  canvassing  expedition — 
with  the  details  of  which  I  need  not  bur- 
den my  "  Confessions."  Suffice  it  to  say. 
that  when  Lord  Kilke-e  was  advocating 
Toryism  in  the  west.  I,  his  accredited 
ambassador,  was  devoting  to  the  infer- 
nal gods  the  prelacy,  the  peerage,  and 
the  pension  list — a  mode  of  canvass  well 
worthy  of  imitation  in  these  troublesome 
times;'  for,  not  to  speak  of  the  great  pros- 
pect of  success  from  having  friends  on  both 
sides  of  the  question,  the  principal  can  al- 
ways divest  himself  of  any  unpleasant  con- 
sequences as  regards  inconsistency,  by 
throwing  the  blame  on  his  friend,  "who 
went  too  far,"  as  the  appropriate  phrase  is, 


24: 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


Nothing  could  be  more  successful  than 
sur  mission.  Lord  Oallonby  was  delight- 
ed beyond  hounds  with  the  prospect,  and 
so  complete!)  carried  away  by  high  spirits, 
and  so  perfectly  assured  that  much  of  it 
was  owing  to  my  exertions,  that  on  (he 
second  morning  of  our  tour — for  we  pro- 
ceeded through  the  county  for  three  days 
— he  came  laughing  into  my  dressing- 
room,  with  a  newspaper  in  his  hand. 

"Here,  Lorrequer,"  said  he,  "here's 
news  for  you.  Yon  certainly  must  read 
this."  And  he  handed  me  a  copy  of  the 
Clare  Herald,  with  an  account  of  our  meet- 
ing, the  evening  before. 

After  glancing  my  eye  rapidly  over  the 
routine  usual  in  such  cases — Humph,  ha 
— nearly  two  hundred  people — most  re- 
spectable farmers — room  appropriately 
decorated — "  Oallonby  Arms  " — "  after  the 

usual  loyal  toasts,  the  chairman  rose  " 

Well,  no  matter.  Ah!  here  it.  is:  "Mr. 
Lorrequer  here  addressed  the  meeting  with 
a  flow  of  eloquence  it  has  rarely,  if  ever, 
been  our  privilege  to  hear  equaled.  He  be- 
gan by  " —  humph 

"  Ah,"  said  his  lordship,  impatiently, 
"  you  will  never  find  it  out — look  here — 
'Mr.  Lorrequer,  whom  Ave  have  mentioned 
as  having  made  the  highly  exciting  speech, 
to  be  found  in  our  first  page,  is,  we  under- 
stand, the  son  of  Sir  Guy  Lorrequer,  of 
Elton,  in  Shropshire — one  of  the  wealth- 
iest baronets  in  England.  If  rumor  speaks 
truly,  there  is  a  very  near  prospect  of  an 
alliance  between  this  talented  and  promis- 
ing young  gentleman,  and  the  beautiful 
and  accomplished  daughter  of  a  certain 
noble  earl,  with  whom  he  has  been  for 
some  time  domesticated.'  " 

"Eh,  what  think  you  ?  Son  of  Sir  Guy 
Lorrequer.  I  always  thought  my  old 
friend  a  bachelor,  but  you  see  the  Clare 
Herald  knows  better.  Not  to  speak  of  the 
last  piece  of  intelligence,  it  is  very  good, 
is  it  not." 

■  "Capital,  indeed,"  said  I,  trying  to 
laugh,  and  at  the  same  time  blushing  con- 
foundedly, and  looking  as  ridiculous  as 
needs  be. 

It  now  struck  me  forcibly  that  there 
was  something  extremely  odd  in  his  lord- 
ship's mention  of  this  paragraph,  particu- 
larly when  coupled  with  his  and,  Lady 
Callonby's  manner  to  me  for  the  last  two 
months.  They  knew  enough  of  my  family, 
evidently,  to  be  aware  of  my  station  and 
prospects— or  rather  my  want  of  both— 
and  yet,  in  the  face  of  this,  they  not  only 
encouraged  me  to  prolong  a  most  delight- 
ful visit,  but  by  a  thousand  daily  and 
dangerous  opportunities,  absolutely  threw 


me  in  the  way  of  one  of  the  loveliest  of 
her  se.\,  seemingly  without  fear  on  fchoii 
parts'  ."  Well  ["though!  I.  with  my  old 
philosophy,    "Time,    thai    'pregnant  old 

gentleman.'  will  disclose  all,  and  so,  let  us 
be  pal  ieiit  !  " 

My  reveries  on  my  good  and  evil  fortune 
were  suddenly  interrupted  by  a  letter 
which  reached  me  that  evening,  having 
been  forwarded  from  Oallonby  by  a  special 
messenger.  "What!  another  epistle  from 
Curzon,"  said  I,  as  my  eye  caught  the 
address;  and  wondering  not  a  little  what 
pressing  emergency  had  called  forth  the 
words  on  the  cover — "To  be  forwarded 
with  haste" — I  eagerly  broke  the  seal  and 
read  the  following  : 

"My  dear  Harry, — I  received  yours 
on  the  11th,  and  immediately  dispatched 
your  note  and  the  raiment  to  Mr.  Beamish. 
He  was  from  home  at  the  time,  but  at 
eight  o'clock  I  was  sent  for  from  the  mess 
to  see  two  gentlemen  on  most  pressing 
business.  I  hurried  to  my  quarters,  and 
there  found  the  aforesaid  Mr.  B.,  accom- 
panied by  a  friend,  whom  he  introduced 
as  Dr.  do  Courcy  Finucane,  of  the  North 
Cork  Militia — as  warlike-looking  a  gentle- 
man, of  his  inches,  some  five  feet  three,  as 
you  would  wish  to  see.  The  moment  I 
appeared,  both  rose,  and  commenced  a 
narrative,  for  such  I  judge  it  to  be,  but 
so  energetically  and  so  completely  together, 
that  I  could  only  bow  politely,  and  at  last 
request  that  one,  or  the  other,  would  in- 
form me  of  the  object  of  their  visit.  Here 
began  the  tug  of  war,  the  doctor  saying, 
'  Arrah,  now  Giles' — Mr.  Beamish  inter- 
rupting by  '  Whisht  I  tell  ye — now,  can't 
you  let  me?  Ye  see,  Mr.  Curzoin' — for 
so  they  both  agreed  to  designate  me.  At 
last,  completely  worn  out,  I  said,  'Perhaps 
you  have  not  received  my  friend's  note  ?' 
At  this  Mr.  Beamish  reddened  to  the  eyes, 
and  with  the  greatest  volubility  poured 
forth  a  flood  of  indignant  eloquence,  that 
I  thought  it  necessary  to  check  ;  but  in 
this  I  failed,  for  after  informing  nie  pretty 
clearly  that  he  knew  nothing  of  your  story 
of  the  alderman,  or  his  cloak,  added,  that 
he  firmly  believed  your  pretended  repara- 
tion was  only  a  renewed  insult,  and  that 
— but,  in  a  word,  he  used  such  language, 
that  I  was  compelled  to  take  him  short ; 
and  the  finale  is,  that  I  agreed  you  should 
meet  him.  though  still  ignorant  of  what 
he  calls  the  'original  offense.'  But  Heaven 
knows,  his  conduct  here  last  night  de- 
mands a  reprimand,  and  I  hope  you  may 
give  it ;  and  if  you  shoot  him,  we  may 
worm  out  the  secret  from  his  executors. 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


25 


Nothing  could  exceed  the  politeness  of  the 
parties  on  my  consenting  to  this  arrange- 
ment. Dr.  Finueane  proposed  Oarrigaholl 
as  the  rendezvous,  about  twelve  miles,  1 
believe,  from  Kilrush,  and  Tuesday  even- 
ing, at  six,  as  the  time,  which  will  be  the 
very  earliest  momeni  we  can  arrive  there. 
So,  pray  be  up  to  time,  and  believe  me 
yours, 

"C.   CUEZON. 
"Saturday  Evening." 

It  was  late  on  Monday  evening  when 
this  letter  reached  me,  and  there  was  no 
time  t<>  be  lost,  as  I  was  then  about  forty 
Irish  miles  from  the  place  mentioned  by 
Curzon  ;  so,  after  briefly  acquainting  Lord 
Callonby  that  I  was  called  oil'  by  duty,  I 
hurried  to  my  room  to  pack  my  clothes. 
and  again  read  over  this  extraordinary 
epistle. 

I  confess  it  did  appear  something  droll, 
how  completely  Curzon  seemed  to  imbibe 
the  passion  for  fighting  from  these  "blood- 
thirsty Irishmen."  For  by  his  own  show- 1 
ing,  he  was  utterly  ignorant  of  my  ever 
having  offended  this  Mr.  Beamish,  of 
whom  I  recollected  nothing  whatever. 
Yet,  when  that  gentleman  waxes  wrothy,  J 
rather  than  inconvenience  him,  or  perhaps 
anxious  to  get  back  to  the  mess,  he  coolly 
says,  "Oh,  my  friend  shall  meet  you," 
and  then  his  pleasant  jest,  "find  out  the 
cause  of  quarrel  from  his  executors  !  " 

"  Truly,"  thought  I,  "  there  is  no  equa- 
nimity like  his  who  acts  as  your  second  in 
a  duel.  The  gentlemanlike  urbanity  with 
which  he  waits  on  the  opposite  friend — 
the  conciliating  tone  with  which  he  prof- 
fers implacable  enmity — the  killing  kind- 
ness with  which  he  refuses  all  accommo- 
dation—the Talleyrand  air  of  his  short 
notes,  dated  from  the  'Travelers,'  or 
'Brookes,'  with  the  words  three  o'clock  or 
five  o'clock  on  the  cover,  all  indicative  of 
the  friendly  precipitancy  of  the  negoti- 
ation. Then,  when  all  is  settled,  the 
social  style  with  which  he  asks  you  to  take 
a  'cutlet'  with  him  at  the  'Clarendon,' 
'not  to  go  home,'  are  only  to  be  equaled 
by  the  admirable  tact  on  the  ground — 
the  studiously  elegant  salute  to  the  adverse 
party,  half  a  la  Napoleon,  and  half  Beau 
Brummel — the  politely  offered  snuff-box — 
the  coquetting  raillery  about  ten  paces  or 
twelve— are  certainly  the  beau  ideal  of  the 
stoicism  which  preludes  sending  your 
friend  out  of  the  world  like  a  gentleman." 

How  very  often  is  the  face  of  external 
nature  at  variance  with  the  thoughts  and 
actions — ''the  sayings  and  doings"  we 
may  be  most  intent  upon  at  the  moment  ! 


How  many  a  gay  and  brilliant  bridal  party 
lias  wended  its  way  to  St.  G»  I  Lano- 

ver  Square,  amid  a  downpour  of  rain,  one 
would  suppose  sufficienl  to  quench  the 
torch  of  Hymen,  though  it  burned  as 
brightly  as  <  laptain   I  >rumn 

lighl  ;  ami,  on  t  lie  oi  her  hand.  llOW  t're- 
( pi  el  1 1 1\  are  the  bluesi  a  /.lire  of  l;ea  veil  and 
the  mosl  balmy  airs  shed  apon  the  heart 
bursting  with  affliction,  01"  the  head  bowed 
with  grief;  and  without  an\  desire  to  im- 
pugn, as  a  much  higher  authority  has 
done,  the  moral  character  of  the  moon, 
how  many  a  scene  of  blood  and  rapine  ha- 
lts mild  radiance  illumined  !  Such  reflec- 
tions as  these  came  thronging  to  my  mind. 
as  on  the  afternoon  of  Tuesday  J  neared 
the  little  village  of  our  rendezvous.  The 
scene  which  in  all  its  peaceful  beauty  lay 
before  me,  was  truly  a  strong  contrast  to 
the  occasion  that  led  me  thither.  I  stood 
upon  a  little  peninsula  which  separates 
the  Shannon  from  the  wide  Atlantic.  On 
one  side  the  placid  river  flowed  on  its 
course,  between  fields  of  waving  corn,  or 
rich  pasturage — the  beautiful  island  of 
Scattery.  with  its  picturesque  ruins  reflect- 
ed in  the  unrippled  tide — the  cheerful 
voices  of  the  reapers,  and  the  merry  laugh 
of  the  children  were  mingled  with  the 
seaman's  cry  of  the  sailors,  who  were 
'•heaving  short"  on  their  anchor,  to  take 
the  evening  tide.  The  village,  which  con- 
sisted merely  of  a  few  small  cabins,  was 
still,  from  its  situation,  a  pleasing  object 
in  the  picture,  and  the  blue  smoke  that 
rose  in  slender  columns  from  the  humble 
dwellings,  took  from  the  scene  its  charac- 
ter of  loneliness,  and  suggested  feelings 
of  home  and  homely  enjoyments,  which 
human  habitations,  however  lowly,  never 
fail  to  do. 

"At  any  other  time,"  thought  I,  "how 
I  could  have  enjoyed  all  this,  but  now — 
and,  ha,  I  find  it  is  already  past  live  o'clock, 
and  if  I  am  rightly  informed  I  am  still 
above  a  mile  from  '  Carrigaholt,'  where  we 
were  to  meet." 

I  had  dismissed  my  conveyance  when 
nearing  the  village,  to  avoid  observation, 
and  now  took  a  footpath  over  the  hills. 
Before  I  had  proceeded  half  a  mile,  the 
scene  changed  completely.  I  found  myself 
traversing  a  small  glen,  grown  over  with  a 
low  oak  scrub,  and  not  presenting,  on  any 
side,  the  slightest  trace  of  habitation.  I 
saw  that  the  ground  had  been  selected  by 
an  adept.  The  glen,  which  grew  narrow 
as  I  advanced,  suddenly  disclosed  to  my 
view  a  glimpse  of  the  Atlantic,  upon  which 
the  declining  sun  was  pouring  a  flood  of 
purple  glory.     I  had  scarcely  turned  from 


*G 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


the  contemplation  of  this  beautiful  object, 
when  a  long  low  whistle  attracted  my 
attention.  I  looked  in  the  direction  from 
whence  it  proceeded,  and  discovered  at 
some  distance  from  me  three  figures  stand- 
ing beside  the  ruin  of  an  old  abbey,  which 
I  now  for  the  first  time  perceived. 

If  I  had  entertained  any  doubt  as  to 
who  the\  were,  it  had  been  speedily 
resolved,  for  1  now  saw  one  of  the  party 
waving  his  hat  to  me,  whom  I  soon  recog- 
nized to  be  Cnrzon.  He  came  forward  to 
meet  me,  and,  in  the  few  hundred  yards 
that  intervened  before  our  reaching  the 
others,  told  me  as  much  as  he  knew  of  the 
opposite  party;  which,  after  all,  was  but 
little.  Mr.  Beamish,  my  adversary,  he  de- 
scribed as  a  morose,  fire-eating  Southern, 
that  evidently  longed  for  an  "  affair  "  with 
a  military  man,  then  considered  a  circum- 
stance of  some  eclat  in  the  South ;  his 
second,  the  doctor,  on  the  contrary,  was 
by  far  "the  best  of  the  cut-throats,"  a 
most  amusing  little  personage,  full  of  his 
own  importance,  and  profuse  in  his  legends 
of  his  own  doings  in  love  and  war,  and 
evidently  disposed  to  take  the  pleasing 
side  of  every  occurrence  in  life  ;  they  both 
agreed  in  but  one  point — a  firm  and  fixed 
resolve  to  give  no  explanation  of  the 
quarrel  with  me.  "  So  then,"  said  I,  as 
Curzon  hurried  over  the  preceding  ac- 
count, c  you  absolutely  know  nothing 
whatever  of  the  reason  for  which  I  am 
about  to  give  this  man  a  meeting." 

"  No  more  than  you."  said  Curzon, 
with  imperturbable  gravity;  "but  one  thing 
I  am  certain  of — had  I  not  at  once  prom- 
ised him  such,  he  would  have  posted  you 
in  Limerick  the  next  morning;  and,  as 
you  know  our  mess-rule  in  the  4 — th,  I 
thought  it  best " 

"  Oh,  certainly,  quite  right ;  but  now, 
are  you  quite  certain  I  am  the  man  who 
offended  him  ?  for  I  solemnly  assure  you 
I  have  not  the  most  remote  recollection  of 
having  ever  heard  of  him." 

"  That  point,"  said  Curzon,  "there  can 
be  no  doubt  of,  for  he  not  only  designated 
you  as  Mr.  Harry  Lorrequer,  but  the  gen- 
tleman that  made  all  Cork  laugh  so  heart- 
ily by  his  representation  of  Othello." 

"  Stop  ! "  said  I ;  "  not  a  word  more  ; 
I'm  his.  man." 

By  this  time  we  had  reached  the  ruins, 
and  turning  a  corner  came  in  full  contact 
with  the  enemy.  They  had  been  resting 
themselves  on  a  tombstone,  and  rose  as  we 
approached. 

"  Allow  me,"  said  Curzon,  stepping 
a  little  in  advance  of  me — "allow  me 
to   introduce   my  friend   Mr.  Lorrequer, 


Dr.  Finicanc — Dr.  Finicane,  Mr.  Lorre- 
quer.'' 

'  Finucane,  if  quite  agreeable  to  you — 
Finucane,"  said  the  little  gentleman,  as  he 

lifted  his  hat  straight  off  his  head,  and  re- 
placed it  most  accurately,  by  way  of  salute. 
"Mr.  Lorrequer,  it  is  with  sincere  pleasure 
I  make  your  acquaintance/'  Here  Mr. 
Beamish  bowed  stiffly,  in  return  to  my 
salutation,  and  at  the  instant  a  kind  of 
vague  sensation  crossed  my  mind  that 
those  red  whiskers  and  that  fiery  face  were 
not  seen  for  the  first  time;  but  the  thumb- 
screws of  the  Holy  Office  would  have  been 
powerless  to  refresh  my  memory  as  to 
when. 

"  Captain,"  said  the  doctor,  "may  I  re- 
quest the  favor  of  your  company  this  way, 
one  minute  ?"  They  both  walked  aside  ; 
the  only  words  which  reached  me  as  I 
moved  off,  to  permit  their  conference, 
being  an  assurance  on  the  part  of  the  doc- 
tor, "  that  it  was  a  sweet  spot  he  picked 
out,  for,  by  having  them  placed  north  and 
south,  neither  need  have  a  patch  of  sky 
behind  him."  Very  few  minutes  sufficed 
for  preliminaries,  and  they  both  advanced, 
smirking  and  smiling,  as  if  they  had  just 
arranged  a  new  plan  for  the  amelioration 
of  the  poor,  or  the  benefit  of  the  manu- 
facturing classes,  instead  of  making  prep- 
arations for  sending  a  fellow  creature  out 
of  the  world. 

"  Then,  if  I  understand  you,  captain," 
said  the  doctor,  "you  step  the  distance, 
and  I  give  the  word." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Curzon. 

After  a  joking  allusion  to  my  friend's 
length  of  limb,  at  which  we  all  laughed 
heartily,  we  were  placed,  Curzon  and  the 
doctor  standing  and  breaking  the  line  be- 
tween us  ;  the  pistols  were  then  put  into 
our  hands,  the  doctor  saying, — "  Now, 
gentlemen,  I'll  just  retire  six  paces,  and 
turn  round,  which  will  be  quite  time 
enough  to  prepare,  and  at  the  word  'Fire,' 
ye'll  blaze  away ;  mind  now."  With  a 
knowing  wink,  the  doctor  delivered  this 
direction,  and  immediately  moved  off  ;  the 
word  "Fire"  followed,  and  both  pistols 
went  off  together.  My  hat  was  struck 
near  the  top,  and,  as  the  smoke  cleared 
away,  I  perceived  that  my  ball  had  taken 
effect  upon  my  adversary;  he  was  wounded 
a  little  below  the  knee,  and  appeared  to 
steady  himself  with  the  greatest  difficulty. 
"Your  friend  is  hit,"  said  Curzon  to  the 
doctor,  who  now  came  forward  with  anoth- 
er pistol.      "  Your  friend  is  hit." 

"So  I  perceive,"  said  he,  placing  his 
finger  on  the  spot;  "but  it  is  no  harm 
in  life  ;  so  we  proceed,  if  you  please." 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


27 


"  You  don't  mean  to  demand  another 
shoV  said  Curzon. 

''Faith  do  I,"  said  the  doctor,  coolly. 

"  Then,'"  said  Curzon,  "I  must  fcell  you 
most  unequivocally  I  refuse,  and  shall  now 
withdraw  my  friend  ;  and  had  it  not  been 
for  a  regulation  peculiar  to  <>ur  regiment, 
but  never  intended  to  include  cases  of  this 
nature,  we  had  not  been  here  now  ;  for,  up 
to  this  hour,  my  principal  and  myself  are 
in  utter  ignorance  of  any  cause  of  offense 
ever  having  been  offered  by  him  to  Mr. 
Beamish." 

"Giles,  do  you  hear  this?"  said  the 
doctor. 

But  Giles  did  not  hear  it,  for  the  rapid 
loss  of  blood  from  his  wound  had  so  weak- 
ened him,  that  he  had  fainted,  and  lay 
peaceably  on  the  grass.  Etiquette  was  now 
at  an  end,  and  we  all  ran  forward  to  assist 
the  wounded  man.  For  some  minutes  lie 
lay  apparently  quite  senseless,  and  when 
he  at  last  rallied  and  looked  wildly  about 
him,  it  appeared  to  be  with  difficulty  that 
he  recalled  any  recollection  of  the  place, 
and  the  people  around  him ;  for  a  few  sec- 
onds he  fixed  his  eyes  steadily  upon  the 
doctor,  and  with  a  lip  .pale  and  bloodless, 
and  a  voice  quivering  from  weakness, 
said, —  s 

"Fin  !  didn't  I  tell  ye  that  pistol  always 
threw  high  ?  Oh  !  " — and  this  he  said 
with  a  sigh  that  nearly  overpowered  him 
— "oh,  Fin,  if  you  had   only  given  me  the 

saw-handled  one,  that  I  am  used  to But 

it  is  no  good  talking  now." 

In  my  inmost  heart  I  was  grateful  to  the 
little  doctor  for  his  mistake,  for  I  plainly 
perceived  what  "the  saw-handled  one  he 
was  used  to  "  might  have  done  for  me,  and 
could  not  help  muttering  to  myself  with 
good  Sir  Andrew — "If  I  had  known  he 
was  so  cunning  of  fence,  I'd  have  seen 
him  damned  before  that  I  fought  with 
him." 

Our  first  duty  was  now  to  remove  the 
wounded  man  to  the  high  road,  about 
which  both  he  himself  and  his  second 
seemed  disposed  to  make  some  difficulty. 
They  spoke  together  for  a  few  moments 
in  a  low  tone  of  voice,  and  then  the  doctor 
addressed  us — "  We  feel,  gentlemen,  this 
is  not  a  time  for  any  concealment ;  but  the 
truth  is,  we  have  need  of  great  circum- 
spection here,  for  I  must  inform  you,  we. 
are  both  of  us  bound  over  in  heavy  recog- 
nizances to  keep  the  peace." 

"Bound  over  to  keep  the  peace!  "said 
Curzon  and  myself  together. 

"Nothing  less;  and  although  there  is 
nobody  hereabout  would  tell,  yet  if  the 
affair  got   into   the  papers  by  any  means, 


why  there  are  some  people  in  Cork  would 
like  to  press  my  friend  there,  fur  he   is  a 

very  neal  shot  when  In-  hafi  tin  -aw-han- 
dle."     And  here  t lie  doctor  linked. 

We  had  little  time  permitted  ns  to  think 
upon  the  oddity  of  meeting  ;i  man  in  such 
circumstances,  for  we  wax-  now  obliged  to 
contribute  our  aid  in  conveying  him  to  the 
road,  where  some  means  mighi  be  procur- 
ed for  his  transfer  to  Kilrush,  or  some 
other  town  in  the  neighborhood,  for  he 
was  by  this  time  totally  unable  to  walk. 

After  half  an  hour's  toiling  we  at  last 
did  reach  the  highway,  by  which  time  I 
had  ample  opportunity,  short  as  the  space 
was,  to  see  something  of  the  character  of 
our  two  opponents.  It  appeared  that  the 
doctor  exercised  the  most  absolute  control 
over  his  large  friend,  dictating  and  com- 
manding in  a  tone  which  the  oi  her  never 
ventured  to  resist.  For  a  moment  or  two 
Mr.  Beamish  expressed  a  great  desire  to  be 
conveyed  by  night  to  Kilrush,- where  he 
might  find  means  to  cross  the  Shannon  into 
Kerry.  This,  however,  the  doctor  oppos- 
ed strenuously,  from  the  risk  of  publicity; 
and  finally  settled  that  we  should  ail  go  in 
a  body  to  his  friend  Father  Malachi  Bren- 
nan's  house,  only  two  miles  off,  wliere  the 
sick  man  would  have  the  most  tender  care, 
and,  what  the  doctor  considered  equally  in- 
dispensable, we  ourselves  a  most  excellent 
supper,  and  a  hearty  welcome. 

"You  know  Father  Malachi,  of  course, 
Mr.  Lorrequer  ?" 

"  I  am  ashamed  to  say  I  do  not." 

"Not  know  Malachi  Brennan,  and  live 
in  Clare  !  Well,  well,  that  is  strange  ! 
Sure  he  is  the  priest  of  this  country  for 
twelve  miles  in  every  direction  of  you,  and 
a  better  man,  and  a  pleasanter,  there  does 
not  live  in  the  diocese  ;  though  I'm  his 
cousin  that  says  it." 

After  professing  all  the  possible  pleasure 
it  would  afford  my  friend  and  myself  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  Father  Malachi, 
we  proceeded  to  place  Mr.  Beamish  in 
a  car  that  was  passing  at  the  time,  and 
started  for  the  residence  of  the  good  priest. 
The  wdiole  of  the  way  thither  I  was  occu- 
pied but  by  one  thought,  a  burning  anxi- 
ety to  know  the  cause  of  our  quarrel,  and 
I  longed  for  the  moment  when  1  might  get 
the  doctor  apart  from  his  friend  to  make 
the  inquiry. 

"  There — look  down  to  your  left,  where 
you  see  the  lights  shining  so  brightly,  that 
is  Father  Malachi's  house  ;  as  sure  as  my 
name  is  De  Courcy  Finucane.  there's  fun 
going  on  there  this  night." 

"Why,  there  certainly  does  seem  a  great 
illumination  in  the  valley  there,"  said  I. 


£8 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


"May  I  never,"  said   the  doctor;,  "if  it 

isn't  a  station " 

"  A  station  ! — pray,  may  I  ask- 


"  You  need  not  ask  a  word  on  the 
subject ;  for,  if  I  am  a  true  prophet, 
you'll  know  what  it  means  before  morn- 
mo-." 

A  little  more  chatting  together  brought 
us  to  a  narrow  road,  flanked  on  either  side 
by  high  hedges  of  hawthorn,  and,  in  a  few 
minutes  more,  we  stood  before  the  priest's 
residence,  a  long,  whitewashed,  thatched 
house,  having  great  appearance  of  comfort 
and  convenience.  Arrived  here,  the  doc- 
tor seemed  at  once  to  take  on  him  the  ar- 
rangement of  the  whole  party;  for,  after 
raising  the  latch  and  entering  the  house, 
he  returned  to  us  in  a  few  minutes,  and 
said, — 

"  Wait  a  while,  now  ;  we'll  not  go  in  to 
Father  Malachi  till  we've  put  Giles  to 
bed." 

We,  accordingly,  lifted  him  from  the 
car,  and  assisted  him  into  the  house,  and, 
following  Finucane  down  a  narrow  passage, 
at  last  reached  'a  most  comfortable  little 
chamber,  with  a  neat  bed.  Here  we 
placed  him,  while  the  doctor  gave  some 
directions  to  a  bare-headed,  red-legged 
hussey,  without  shoes  or  stockings,  and 
himself  proceeded  to  examine  the  wound, 
which  was  a  more  serious  one  than  it  at 
first  appeared. 

After  half  an  hour  thus  occupied,  during 
which  time  roars  of  merriment  and  hearty 
peals  of  laughter  burst  upon  us  every  time 
the  door  opened,  from  a  distant  part  of 
the  house,  where  his  reverence  was  enter- 
taining his  friends,  and  which  as  often  as 
they  were  heard  by  the  doctor,  seemed  to 
produce  in  him  sensations  not  unlike  those 
that  afflicted  the  "  wedding  guest"  in  the 
"Ancient  Mariner,"  when  he # heard  the 
"loud  bassoon,"  and  as  certainly  imparted 
an  equally  longing  desire  to  be  a  partaker 
in  the  mirth.  We  arranged  everything 
satisfactorily  for  Mr.  Beamish's  comfort, 
and  with  a  large  basin  of  vinegar  and 
water,  to  keep  his  knee  cool,  and  a  strong 
tumbler  of  hot  punch,  to  keep  his  heart 
warm — homoeopathic  medicine  is  not  half 
so  new  as  Dr.  Hahnneman  would  make  us 
believe — we  left  Mr.  Beamish  to  his  own 
meditations,  and  doubtless  regrets,  that 
he  did  not  get  "  the  saw-handled  one 
he  was  used  to,"  while  we  proceeded  to 
make  our  bows  to  Father  Malachi  Bren- 
nan. 

But,  as  I  have  no  intention. to  treat  the 
good  priest  with  ingratitude,  I  shall  not 
present  him  to  my  readers  at  the  tail  of  a 
chapter. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    PRIEST'S     SUPPER — FATHER    MALACHI    AND  THE 
COADJUTOR — MAJOR   JONES    AND    THE   ABBE. 

At  the  conclusion  of  our  last  chapter 
we  left  our  quondam  antagonist,  Mr. 
Beamish,  stretched  at  full  length  upon  a 
bed  practising  homoeopathy,  by  adminis- 
tering hot  punch  to  his  fever,  while  we 
followed  our  chaperon,  Doctor  Finucane, 
into  the  presence  of  the  Reverend  Father 
Brennan. 

The  company  into  which  we  now,  with- 
out any  ceremony  on  our  parts,  introduced 
ourselves,  consisted  of  from  iive-and-twenty 
to  thirty  persons,  seated  around  a  large 
oak  table,  plentifully  provided  with 
materials  for  drinking,  and  cups,  goblets, 
and  glasses  of  every  shape  and  form.  The 
moment  we  entered,  the  doctor  stepped 
forward,  and  touching  Father  Malachi  on 
the  shoulder — for  so  I  rightly  guessed  him 
to  be — presented  himself  to  his  relative, 
by  whom  he  was  welcomed  with  every  de- 
monstration of  joy.  While  their  recogni- 
tions were  exchanged,  and  while  the  doctor 
explained  the  reasons  of  our  visit,  I  was 
enabled,  undisturbed  and  unnoticed,  to 
take  a  brief  survey  of  the  party. 

Father  Malachi  Brennan,  P.P.  of  Carri- 
gaholt,  was  what  I  had  often  pictured  to 
myself  as  the  beau  ideal  of  his  caste.  His 
figure  was  short,  fleshy,  and  enormously 
muscular,  and  displayed  proportions  which 
wanted  but  height  to  constitute  a  perfect 
Hercules  ;  his  legs  so  thick  in  the  calf,  »o 
taper  in  the  ankle,  looked  like  nothing  I 
know,  except,  perhaps,  the  metal  balus- 
trades of  Carlisle-bridge ;  his  face  was 
large  and  rosy,  and  the  general  expression, 
a  mixture  of  unbounded  good  humor  and 
inexhaustible  drollery,  to  which  the  rest- 
less activity  of  his  black  and  arched  eye- 
brows greatly  contributed  ;  and  his  mouth, 
were  it  not  for  a  character  of  sensuality 
and  voluptuousness  about  the  nether  lip, 
had  been  actually  handsome ;  his  head 
was  bald,  except  a  narrow  circle  close 
above  the  ears,  which  was  marked  by  a 
ring  of  curly  dark  hair,  sadly  insufficient, 
however,  to  conceal  a  development  behind, 
that,  if  there  be  truth  in  phrenology,  boded 
but  little  happiness  to  the  disciples  of  Miss 
Marti  neau. 

Add  to  these  external  signs  a  voice,  rich, 
fluent,  and  racy,  with  the  mellow  "doric" 
of  his  country,  and  you  have  some  faint 
resemblance  of  one  "  every  inch  a  priest." 
The  very  antipodes  to  the  bonhomie  of  this 
figure,  confronted  him  as  croupier  at  the 
foot  of  the  table.     This,  as  I  afterwards 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


29 


learned,  was  no  less  a  person  than  Mister 
Donovan,  the  co-adjutor  or  "curate."    He 

was  ;i  lull,  spare,  ungainly  looking  man  of 
about  Qve-aud-thirty,  with  a  pale,  aseetic 
countenance,  the  only  readable  expres  ion 
of  which  vibrated  between  low  suspicion 
and  intense  vulgarity;  over  his  low,  pro- 
jecting forehead  hung  down  a  mass  of 
straight  red  hair;  indeed — for  nature  is 
not  a  politician — it  almost  approached  an 
orange  hue.  This  was  cut  close  to  the 
head  all  round,  and  displayed  in  their  full 
proportions  a  pair  of  enormous  cars,  which 
stood  (nit  in  "  relief,"  like  turrets  from  a 
watch-tower,  and  with  pretty  much  the 
same  object  ;  his  skin  was  of  that  peculiar 
color  and  texture,  to  which,  not  all  "'  the 
water  in  groat  Neptune's  ocean"  could 
impart  a  look  of  cleanliness,  while  his  very 
voice,  hard,  harsh,  and  inflexible,  was  un- 
prepossessing and  unpleasant.  And  yet, 
strange  as  it  may  seem,  he  too,  was  a  cor- 
rect typo  of  his  order  ;  the  only  difference 
being,  chat  Father  Malachi  was  an  older 
coinage,  with  the  impress  of  Douai  or  St. 
Omer,  whereas  Mister  Donovan  was  the 
shining  metal,  fresh  stamped  from  the 
mint  of  Maynooth. 

While  thus  occupied  in  my  surveillance 
of  the  scene  before  me,  I  was  roused  by 
the  priest  saying, 

"  All,  Fin,  my  darling,  you  needn't  deny 
it  ;  you're  at  the  old  game  as  sure  as  my 
name  is  Malachi,  and  ye'Il  never  be  easy 
nor  quiet  till  ye 're  sent  beyond  the  sea,  or 
maybe  have  a  record  of  your  virtues  on 
half  a  ton  of  marble  in  the  churchyard, 
yonder." 

'•  Upon  my  honor — upon  the  sacred 
honor  of  a  De  Courcy " 

"  Well,  well,  never  mind  it  now  ;  ye  see 
ye're  just  keeping  your  friends  cooling 
themselves  there  in  the  corner — introduce 
me  at  once." 

"  Mr.  Lorrequer,  I'm  sure " 

"My  name  is  Curzon,"  said  the  adju- 
tant, bowing. 

"  A  mighty  pretty  name,  though  a  little 
profane.  Well,  Mr.  Curseon,"  for  so  he 
pronounced  it,  "ye're  as  welcome  as  the 
flowers  in  May  ;  and  it's  mighty  proud  I 
am  to  see  ye  here." 

"  Mr.  Lorrequer,  allow  me  to  shake  your 
hand — I've  heard  of  ye  before." 

There  seemed  nothing  very  strange  in 
that  ;  for  go  where  I  would  through  this 
country,  I  seemed  as  generally  known  as 
ever  was  Brummell  in  Bond-street. 

"Fin  tells  me,"  continued  Father  Ma- 
lachi, "  that  ye'd  rather  not  be  known 
down  here,  in  regard  of  a  reason;"  and 
here  he  winked.    ■"  Make  yourselves  quite 


easy;  the  king's  wril  was  never  but  once 
in  these  parts;  and  the  'original  and  true 
copy'  went  hack  to  Limerick  in  the  stom- 
ach of  the  server  ;  t  hej  made  him  eat  it, 

Mr.  Lorrequer!  but  it's  a-  well  to  In-  cau- 
tions, for  t  here  are  a  good  number  h 
A  little  dinner,  a  little  quarterly  dinner 
we  have  among  us,  Mr.  Curseon,  to  be 
social  together,  and  raise  a  'thrifle'  for 
the  Irish  college  at  Rome,  where  we  have 
a  probationer  or  two,  ourselves." 

••  As  good  as  a  station,  and  i  Lore  drink," 
whispered  Fin  into  mj 

"And  now,"  continued  the  priest,  "ye 

must    just    permit    me    to     re-chr'-i    n    ye 

both,  and  the  contribution  will  not  be  the 

less  for  what  I'm   going  to  do;   and  I'm 

!  certain  you'll   not    be   the    worse    lor    the 

j  change,  Mr.  Curseon — though  'tis  only  for 

I  a  few  hours,  ye'Il  have  a  decent  name."' 

As  I  could  see  no  possible  objection  to 
this  proposal,  nor  did  Curzon,  either,  our 
j  only  desire  being  to  maintain  the  secrecy 
|  necessary  for  our  antagonist's  safety,  we  at 
j  once  assented  :  when  Father  Malachi  took 
me  by  the  hand,  but  with  such  a  total 
change  in  his  whole  air  and  deportment, 
|  that  I  was  completely  puzzled  by  it.  He 
led  me  forward  to  the  company  with  a 
good  deal  of  that  ceremonious  reverence  I 
have  often  admired  in  Sir  Charles  Yc-mon, 
when  conducting  sonic  full-blown  dowager 
through  the  mazes  of  a.  castle  minuet. 
The  desire  to  laugh  outright  was  almost 
irresistible,  as  the  Rev.  lather  stood  at 
arm's  length  from  me.  still  holding  my 
hand,  and  bowing  to  the  company  pretty 
much  in  the  style  of  a  manager  introduc- 
ing a  blushing  debutante  to  an  audience. 
A  moment  more,  and  I  must  have  inevi- 
tably given  way  to'  a  burst  of  laughter, 
when  -what  was  my  horror  to  hear  the 
priest  present  me  to  the  company  as  their 
''excellent,  worthy,  generous,  and  patri- 
otic young  landlord,  Lord  Kilkee.  Cheer 
every  mother's  son  of  ye  :  cheer,  I  say  ;  " 
and  certainly  precept  Avas  never  more 
strenuously  backed  by  example,  for  he 
huzzaed  till  1  thought  he  would  burst  a 
|  blood-vessel  ;  may  1  add.  I  almost  wished 
it,  such  was  the  insufferable  annoyance, 
the  chagrin,  this  announcement  gave  me  : 
and  I  waited  with  eager  impatience  for  the 
din  and  clamor  to  subside,  to  disclaim 
every  syllable  of  the  priest's  announce- 
ment, and  take  the  consequences  of  my 
baptismal  epithet,  cost  what  it  might.  To 
this  I  was  impelled  by  many  and  impor- 
tant reasons.  Situated  as  I  was  with  re- 
spect to  the  Callonby  family,  my  assump- 
tion of  their  name  at  such  a  moment 
might  get  abroad,  and  the  consequences  to 


30 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


me  1)0  inevitable  ruin  ;  and  independent 
of«my  natural  repugnance  to  such  sailing 
under  false  colors,  I  saw  Ourzon  laughing 
almost  to  suffocation  at  my  wretched  pre- 
dicament, and  (so  strong  within  me  was 
the  dread  of  ridicule)  I  thought,  "what  a 
pretty  narrative  he  is  concocting  for  the 
mess  this  minute."  1  rose  to  reply  ;  and 
whether  Father  Malachi,  with  his  intui- 
tive quickness,  guessed  my  purpose  or  not, 
I  cannot  say,  but  he  certainly  resolved  to 
out-manoeuvre  me,  and  he  succeeded  : 
while  with  one  hand  he  motioned  to  the 
party  to  keep  silence,  with  the  other  he 
took  hold  of  Ourzon,  but  with  no  peculiar 
or  very  measured  respect,  and  introduced 
him  as  Mr.  M'Neesh,  the  new  Scotch 
steward  and  improver — a  character  at  that 
time  whose  popularity  might  compete  with 
a  tithe  proctor  or  an  exciseman.  So  com- 
pletely did  this  tactic  turn  the  tables  upon 
the  poor  adjutant,  who  the  moment  before 
was  exulting  over  me,  that  I  utterly  forgot 
my  own  woes,  and  sat  down  convulsed 
with  mirth  at  his  situation — an  emotion 
certainly  not  lessened  as  I  saw  Ourzon 
passed  from  one  to  the  other  at  talkie, 
"  like  a  pauper  to  his  parish,"  till  he  found 
an  asylum  at  the  very  foot,  in  juxta  with 
the  engaging  Mr.  Donovan,  a  propinquity, 
if  I  might  judge  from  their  countenances, 
uncoveted  by  either  party. 

While  this  was  performing,  Doctor  Fin- 
ucane  was  making  his  recognitions  with 
several  of  the  company,  to  whom  he  had 
been  long  known  during  his  visits  to  the 
neighborhood.  I  now  resumed  my  place 
on  the  right  of  "the  father,"  abandoning 
for  the  present  all  intention  of  disclaim- 
ing my  rank,  and  the  campaign  was 
opened.  The  priest  now  exerted  himself 
to  the  utmost  to  recall  conversation  into 
the  original  channels,  and  if  possible  to 
draw  off  attention  from  me,  which  he  still 
feared  might,  perhaps,  elicit  some  unlucky 
announcement  on  my  part.  Failing  in  his 
endeavors  to  bring  matters  to  their  former 
footing,  he  turned  the  whole  brunt  of  his 
attentions  to  the  worthy  doctor,  who  sat 
on  his  left. 

"  How  goes  on  the  law,"  said  he,  "  Fin  ? 
— any  new  proofs,  as  they  call. them,  forth- 
coming ?" 

What  Fin  replied  I  could  not  hear,  but, 
the  allusion  to  the  "suit"  was  explained 
by  Father  Malachi  informing  us  that  the 
only  impediment  between  his  cousin  and 
the  title  of  Kinsale  lay  in  the  unfortunate 
fact  that  his  grandmother,  "rest  her 
sow!,"  was  not  a  man. 

Dr.  Finucane  winced  a  little  under  the 
manner  in  which  this  was  spoken,  but  re- 


turned the  fire  by  asking  if  the  bishop  was 
down  lately  in  that  quarter?  The  eva- 
sive way  in  which  "the  father"  re- 
plied having  stimulated  niv  curiosity  as  to 
the  reason,  little  entreaty  was  necessary  to 
persuade  the  doctor  to  relate  the  follow- 
ing anecdote,  which  was  not  relished  the 
less  by  his  superior,  that  it  told  somewhat 
heavily  on  Mr.  Donovan. 

"It  is  about  four  years  ago,"  said  the 
doctor,  "since  the  bishop.  Dr.  Plunkett, 
took  it  into  his  head  that  he'd  make  a  gen- 
eral inspection,  '  a  reconnaissance,'  as  wv'd 
call  it,  Mr.  Lor — that  is,  my  lord  !  through 
the  whole  diocese,  and  leave  no  part,  far 
or  near,  without  poking  his  nose  in  it  and 
seeing  how  matters  were  doing.  He  heard 
very  queer  stories  about  his  reverence 
here,  and  so  down  he  came  one  morning 
in  the  month  of  July,  riding  upon  an  old 
grey  hack,  looking  just  for  all  the  world 
like  any  other  elderly  gentleman  in  very 
rusty  black.  When  he  got  near  the  vil- 
lage he  picked  up  a  little  boy  to  show  him 
the  short  cut  across  the  fields  to  the  house 
here;  and  as  his  lordship  was  a 'sharp 
man  and  a  shrewd,'  he  kept  his  eye  on' 
everything  as  he  went  along,  remarking 
this,  and  noting  down  that. 

"  '  Are  ye  regular  in  your  duties,  my 
son  ? '  said  he  to  the  child. 

"  '  I  never  miss  a  Sunday,'  said  the 
gossoon  ;  '  for  it's  always  walking  his  rev- 
erence's horse  I  am  the  whole  time  av 
prayers. ' 

"  His  lordship  said  no  more  for  a  little 
while,  when  he  muttered  between  his  teeth, 
'  Ah,  it's  just  slander — nothing  but  slan- 
der and  lying  tongues.'  This  soliloquy 
was  caused  by  his  remarking  that  on  every 
gate  he  passed,  or  from  every  cabin,  two 
or  three  urchins  would  come  out  half 
naked,  but  all  with  the  finest  heads  of  red 
hair  he  ever  saw  in  his  life. 

"'How  is  it,  my.  son,'  said  he,  at 
length  ;  '  they  tell  very  strange  stories 
about  Father  Malachi,  and  I  see  so  many 
of  these  children  with  red  hair.  Eh — now 
Father  Malachi's  a  dark  man.' 

"  'True  for  ye,'  said  the  boy  ;  'true  for 
ye,  Father  Malachi's  dark  ;  but  the  coad- 
jutor ! — the  coadjutor's  as  red  as  a  fox." 

When  the  laugh  this  story  caused  had  a 
little  subsided,  Father  Malachi  called  out, 
"Mickey  Oulahan  !  Mickey,  I  say,  hand 
his  lordship  over  'the  groceries'"— thus 
he  designated  a  square  decanter  containing 
about  two  quarts  of  whisky,  and  a  bow! 
heaped  high  with  sugar — "  a  dacent  boy  is 
Mickey,  my  lord,  and  I'm  happy  to  be  the 
means  of  making  him  known  to  you."  I 
bowed    with     condescension,    while    Mr 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


31 


Oulahan's  eyes  sparkled  like  diamonds  at 
the  recognii  ton. 

"lie  has  only  two  years  of  the  lease  to 
run,  and  a  'long  cnarge'"  {anglicb,  a 
largo  family),  continued  the  priest. 

"I'll  not  forget  him,  you  may  depend 
upon  it,"  said  I. 

'■Do  you  hear  that,"  said  Father  Mala- 
chi, casting  a  glance  of  triumph  round  the 
table,  while  a  general  buzz  of  commenda- 
tion  on  priest  and  patron  went  round,  with 
many  such  phrases  as  "Och,  thin,"  "it's 
his  riv'rance  can  do  it,"  "na  bocklish," 
'■and  why  not,"  etc.,  etc.  As  for  me,  1 
have  already  ''confessed"  to  my  crying 
sin — a  fatal  irresistible  inclination  to  fol- 
low the  humor  of  the  moment  wherever  it 
led  me  ;  and  now  I  found  myself  as  active 
a  partisan  in  quizzing  Mickey  Oulahan,  as 
though  I  was  not  myself  a  party  included 
in  the  jest.  I  was  thus  fairly  launched 
into  my  inveterate  habit,  and  nothing 
could  arrest  my  progress. 

One  by  one  'the  different  individuals 
round  the  table  were  presented  to  me  and 
made  known  their  various  wants,  with  an 
implicit  confidence  in  my  power  of  reliev- 
ing them,  which  I  with  equal  readiness 
ministered  to.  I  lowered  the  rent  of  every 
man  at  table.  I  made  a  general  gaol  de- 
livery, an  act  of  grace  (I  blush  to  say) 
which  seemed  to  be  peculiarly  interesting 
to  the  present  company.  I  abolished  all 
arrears — made  a  new  line  of  road  through 
an  impassable  bog  and  over  an  inaccessible 
mountain — and  conducted  water  to  a  mill 
which  (I  learned  in.  the  morning)  was  al- 
ways worked  by  wind.  The  decanter  had 
scarcely  completed  its  third  circuit  of  the 
board,  when  I  bid  fair  to  be  the  most 
popular  specimen  of  the  peerage  that  ever 
visited  the  "far  west."  In  the  midst  of 
my  career  of  universal  benevolence,  I  was 
interrupted  by  Father  Malachi,  whom  I 
found  on  his  legs,  pronouncing  a  glowing 
eulogium  on  his  cousin's  late  regiment,  the 
famous  North  Cork. 

"  That  was  the  corps  ! "  said  he.  "  Bid 
them  do  a  thing,  and  they'd  never  leave 
off  ;  and  so,  when  they  got  orders  to  retire 
from  Wexford,  it's  little  they  cared  for  the 
comforts  of  baggage,  like  many  another 
regiment,  for  they  threw  away  everything 
but  their  canteens,  and  never  stopped  till 
they  ran  to  Ross,  fifteen  miles  farther  than 
the  enemy  followed  them.  And  when  they 
were  all  in  bed  the  same  night,  fatigued 
and  tired  with  their  exertions,  as  ye  may 
suppose,  a  drummer-boy  called  out  in  his 
sleep — '  Here  they  are — they're  coming  ! ' 
they  all  jumped  up  and  set  off  in  their 
shirts,    and    got   two   miles   out   of  town 


before     they    discovered    it    was   a   false 
alarm. "" 

Peal  after  peal  of  laughter  followed  the 
priest's  encomium  on  the  doctor's  regi- 
ment ;  and.  indeed,  he  himself  joined  most 
heartily  in  the  mirl  h,  as  he  mighl  well 
afford  to  do,  seeing  i  hal  a  braver  or  h 
corps   than   the   Norl  h   ( 'ork,  Ireland   did 

not  possess.      . , 

■•  WC1I."  said  Fin,  "  it's  easj  to  see  ye 
never  can   forget  what   they  did  at   May- 

nooth." 

Father  Malachi  disclaimed  all  per 
feeling  on  the  subject  :  and  1  was  at  last 
gratified  by  the  following  narrative,  which 
1  regret  deeply  1  am  not  enabled  to  give  in 
the  doctor's  own  words;  but  writing  I 
do  from  memory — in  most  instances — 1 
can  only  convey  the  substance  : 

It  was  towards  the  latter  end  of  the  year 
'98 — the  year  of  the  troubles — that  the 
North  Cork  was  ordered.  ••  for  their  sins," 
I  believe,  to  march  from  their  snug  quar- 
ters in  Fermoy  and  take  up  a  position  in 
the  town  of  Maynooth — a  very  considerable 
reverse  of  fortune  to  a  set  of  gentlemen 
extremely  addicted  to  dining  out,  and  liv- 
ing at  large  upon  a  very  pleasant  neighbor- 
hood. Fermoy  abounded  in  gentry;  May- 
nooth, at  that  time,  had  few,  if  any,  ex- 
cepting his  Grace  of  Leinster,  and  he  lived 
very  privately,  and*  saw  no  company. 
Maynooth  was  stupid  and  dull — there  were 
neither  belles  nor  balls  :  Fermoy  (to  use 
the  doctor's  well  remembered  words)  had 
"groat  feeding,"  and  "  very  genteel  young 
ladies,  that  carried  their  handkerchiefs  in 
bags,  and  danced  with  the  officers." 

They  had  not  been  many  weeks  in  their 
new  quarters  when  they  began  to  pine  over 
their  altered  fortunes,  and  it  -was  with  a 
sense  of  delight,  which  a  few  months  be- 
fore would  have  been  incomprehensible  to 
them,  they  discovered  that  one  of  their 
officers  had  a  brother,  a  young  priest  in 
the  college  :  he  introduced'  him  to  some  of 
his  confreres,  and  the  natural  result  fol- 
lowed. A  visiting  acquaintance  began  be- 
tween the  regiment  and  such  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  college  as  had  liberty  to  leave 
the  precincts  :  who.  as  time  ripened  the 
acquaintance  into  intimacy,  very  naturally 
preferred  the  mess  of  the  North  Cork  to 
the  meagre  fare  of  "the  refectory.'*  At 
last,  seldom  a  day  went  by  without  one  or 
two  of  their  reverences  finding  themselves 
guests  at  the  mess.  The  North  Corkians 
were  of  a  most  hospitable  turn,  and  the 
fathers  were  determined  the  virtue  should 
not  rust  for  want  of  being  exercised  :  they 
would  just  drop  in  to  say  a  word  to  "  Cap- 
tain O'Flaherty  about  leave  to  shoot  in  the 


32 


(  7/ . 1 1;  L  E 8  LEVEE'S   WORKS. 


demense,"  as  Carton  was  styled;  or,  they 
had  a  "frank  from  the  Duke  for  the  Col- 
onel," or  some  other  equally  pressing  rea- 
son ;  and  they  would  contrive  to  becaughl 
in  the  middle  of  a  very  droll  story  jus!  as 
the '•' roast  beef "  was  playing.  Yeiy  little 
entreaty  then  sufficed— a  short  apology  for 
the  "derangements"  of  dress,  and  a  few 
minutes  more  found  them  seated  at  table 
without  further  ceremony  on  either  side. 

Among  the  favorite  guests  from  the  col- 
lege, two  were  peculiarly  in  estimation  — 
"  the  Professor  of  the  Humanities,"  Father 
Luke  Mooney  ;  and  the  Abbe  d' Array, 
"the  Lecturer  on  Moral  Philosophy  and 
Belles  Lettres  ; "  and  certain  it  is,  pleas- 
a nter  fellows,  or  more  gifted  with  the 
•"convivial  bump,"  there  never  existed. 
He  of  the  Humanities  was  a  droll  dog — a 
member  of  the  Ourran  Club,  the  "monks 
of  the  Screw,"  told  an  excellent  story,  and 
sang  the  "  Oruiskeen  Lawn  "  better  than 
did  any  before  or  since  him  ; — the  moral 
philosopher,  though  of  a  different  genre, 
was  also  a  most  agreeable  companion,  an 
Irishman  transplanted  in  his  youth  to  St. 
Omer,  and  who  had  grafted  upon  his 
native  humor  a  considerable  share  of 
French  smartness  and  repartee— such  were 
the  two.  who  ruled  supreme  in  all  the  fes- 
tive arrangements  of  this  jovial  regiment, 
and  were  at  last  as  regular  at  table  as  the 
adjutant  and  the  paymaster,  and  so  might 
they  have  continued,  had  not  prosperity, 
that,  in  its  blighting  influence  upon  the 
heart,  spares  neither  priests  nor  laymen, 
and  is  equally  severe  upon  mice  (see  iEsop's 
fable)  and  moral  philosophers,  actually  de- 
prived them,  for  the  "nonce,"  of  rea- 
son, and  tempted  them  to  their  ruin.  You 
naturally  ask,  what  did  they  do  ?  Did 
they  venture  upon  allusions  to  the  retreat 
upon  Ross  ?  Nothing  of  the  kind.  Did 
they,  in  that  .vanity  which  wine  inspires, 
refer  by  word,  act,  or  inuendo,  to  the  well- 
known  order  of  their  Colonel  when  re- 
viewing his  regiment  in  "  the  Phoenix,"  to 
"  advance  two  steps  backwards  and  dress 
by  the  gutter  ?  "  Far  be  it  from  them  ; 
though  indeed  either  of  these  had  been  es- 
teemed light  iu  the  balance  with  their  real 
crime.  "Then,  what  was  their  failing — 
come,  tell  it.  and  burn  ye  ?  "  They  actu- 
ally, I  dread  to  say  it,  quizzed  the  Major 
coram  the  whole  mess  ! — Now,  Major  John 
Jones  had  only  lately  exchanged  into  the 
North  Cork  from  the  "  Darry  Ragement," 
as  he  called  it.  He  was  a  red-hot  Orange- 
man, a  deputy-grand  something,  and  vice- 
chairman  of  the  "'Prentice  Boys"  besides. 
He  broke  his  leg  when  a  schoolboy,  by  a 
fall  incurred  in  tying  an  orange  handker- 


chief around  King  William's  august  neck 
in  College-green  on  cue  L2th  of  duly,  and 
three  several  times  had  closed  the  gates  of 
Derry  with  his  own  leva)  hands,  on  the 
famed  anniversary;  in  a  word,  he  was  one 
I  hat,  if  his  ( Ihurch  had  enjoined  penance 
as  an  expiation  for  sin,  would  have  looked 
upon  a  trip  to  Jerusalem  on  his  bare  knees 
as  a  very  light  punishment,  for  the  crime 
on  his  conscience,  that  he  sat  at  table  with 
two  buck  priests  from  Maynooth,  and 
carved  for  them,  like  the  rest  of  the  com- 
pany ! 

Poor  Major  Jones,  however,  had  no 
such  solace,  and  the  cankerworm  ate  daily 
deeper  and  deeper  into  his  pining  heart. 
During  the  three  or  four  weeks  of  their  in- 
timacy with  his  regiment,  his  martyrdom 
was  awful.  His  figure  wasted,  and  his 
color  became  a  deeper  tinge  of  orange,  and 
all  around  averred  that  there  would  soon 
be  a  "move  up"  in  the  corps,  for  the 
major  had  evidently  "got  his  notice  to 
quit"  this  world  and  its  pomps  and  vani- 
ties. Ho  felt  "  that  he  was  dying,"  to  use 
Haynes  Bayley's  beautiful  and  apposite 
words,  and  meditated  an  exchange  :  but 
that,  from  circumstances,  was  out  of  the 
question.  At  last,  subdued  by  grief,  and 
probably  his  spirit  having  chafed  itself 
smooth  by  such  constant  attrition,  he  be- 
came, to  all  seeming,  calmer  ;  but  it  was 
only  the  calm  of  a  broken  and  weary  heart. 
Such  was  Major  Jones  at  the  time  when, 
"suadente  diabolo,"  it  seemed  meet  to 
Fathers  Mooney  and  D'Array  to  make  him 
the  butt  of  their  raillery.  At  first,  he 
could  not  believe  it ;  the  thing  was  incred- 
ible—impossible ;  but  when  he  looked 
around  the  table,  when  he  heard  the  roars 
of  laughter,  long,  loud,  and  vociferous; 
when  he  heard  his  name  bandied  from  one 
to  the  other  across  the  table,  with  some 
vile  jest  tacked  to  it  "like  a  tin  kettle  to 
a  dog's  tail,"  he  awoke  to  the  full  measure  of 
his  misery — the  cup  was  full.  Fate  had 
done  her  worst,  and  he  might  have  ex- 
claimed with  Lear,  "Spit,  fire — spout, 
rain,"  there  was  nothing  in  store  for  him 
of  further  misfortune. 

A  drum-head  court-martial — a  hint  "to 
sell  out" — ay,  a  sentence  of  "dismissed 
the  service,"  had  been  mortal  calamities, 
and,  like  a  man,  he  would  have  borne 
them  ;  but  that  "he,  Major  John  Jones,  D. 
G.  S.  C.  P.  B.,  etc.  etc.,  who  had  drunk 
the  "pious,  glorious,  and  immortal,"  sit- 
ting astride  of  "the  great  gun  of  Ath- 
lone,"  should  come  to  this!  Alas,  and 
alas  !  He  retired  that  night  to  his  cham- 
ber a  "sadder  if  not  a  wiser  man  ;"  he 
dreamed   that    the    "statue"   had    given 


TI1ERE   STOOD   TIIE   ACCURSED   NICHOLAS   GLOWERING   AT   IIER   STILL.      (P.   81.) 


HA  RRY  L  ORREQ  UER. 


33 


place  to  the  unshapely  figure  of  Leo  X., 
and  that  "Lundy  now  stood  where 
Walker  stood  before.''  lie  jumped  from 
his  bed  in  a  moment  of  enthusiasm,  he 
vowed  his  revenge,  and  he  kept  his  vow. 

That  day  the  major  was  "acting  field 
officer."  The  various  patrols,  sentries, 
pickets,  and  outposts,  were  all  under  his 
especial  control  ;  and  it  was  remarked  thai 
he  took  peculiar  pains  in  selecting  the  men 
for  night  duty,  which,  in  the  prevailing 
quietness  and  peace  of  that  time,  seemed 
scarcely  warrantable. 

Evening  drew  near,  and  Major  Jones, 
summoned  by  the  "oft-heard  heat."  wend- 
ed his  way  to  the  mess.  The  officers  were 
dropping  in,  and  true  as  "the  needle  to 
the  pole,"  came  Father  Mooney  and  the 
Abbe.  They  were  welcomed  with  the 
usual  warmth,  and,  strange  to  say,  by  none 
more  than  the  major  himself,  whose  hilar- 
ity knew  no  hounds. 

How  the  evening  passed,  1  shall  not 
stop  to  relate  :  suffice  it  to  say,  that  a  more 
brilliant  feast  of  wit  and  jollification  not 
even  the  North  Cork  ever  enjoyed. 
Father  Luke's  drollest  stories,  his  very 
quaintest  humor,  shone  -forth,  and  the 
Abbe  sang  a  new  "chanson  a  boire"  that 
Beranger  might  have  envied. 

"  What  are  you  about,  my  dear  Father 
D' Array  ?  "  said  the  Colonel:  "you  are 
surely  not  rising  yet  ;  here's  a  fresh 
cooper  of  port  just  come  in;  sit  down,  I 
entreat." 

"  I  say  it  with  grief,  my  dear  Colonel,  we 
must  away ;  the  half-hour  has  just  chimed, 
and  we  must  be  within  the  'gates'  before 
twelve.  The  truth  is,  the  superior  has 
been  making  himself  very  troublesome 
about  our  "carnal  amusements,'  as  he  calls 
our  innocent  mirth,  and  we  must  therefore 
be  upon  our  guard." 

*•  Well,  if  it  must  be  so,  we  shall  not 
risk  losing  your  society  altogether  for  an 
hour  or  so  now  ;  so,  one  bumper  to  our 
next  meeting — to-morrow,  mind,  and  now, 
Monsieur  l'Ahbe.  au  revoir." 

The  worthy  fathers  finished  their  glasses, 
and  taking  a  most  affectionate  leave  of 
their  kind  entertainers,  sallied  forth  un- 
der the  guidance  of  Major  Jones,  who  in- 
sisted upon  accompanying  them  part  of 
the  way,  as,  "  from  information  he  had  re- 
ceived, the  sentries  were  doubled  in  some 
places,  and  the  usual  precautions  against 
surprise  all  taken."  Much  as  this  polite 
attention  surprised  the  objects  of  it,  his 
brother  officers  wondered  still  more,  and 
no  sooner  did  they  perceive  the  major  and 
his  companions  issue  forth,  than  they  set 
out  in  a  body  to  watch  where  this  most 
3 


novel  and  unexpected  complaisance  would 
terminate. 

When  the  priests  reached  t  he  door  <<!  I  b  • 
barrack-yard,  the]    again    tuned  to  uttei 

t  heir  t  hanks  to  the  major,  and  eni  reat  him 
once  more  "  not  to  come  a  step  farther. 
There  now,  major,  we  know  the  path  well, 
so  just  give  US  the  pass,  and  d<       I  Mil. 

in  t  he  night  air." 

"  Ah    oui,    Monsh  ur   don  1     the 

Abbe,  "retournez,  je  vous  prie.  We  arc, 
I  may  say.  <  he/,  nous.  Ces  braves  gens,  le& 
North  Cork,  know  us  by  this  time." 

The  major  smiled,,  while  he  -till  pr 
his  services  to  see  them   pasl   the  pickets, 
but  they  were   resolved,  and  would   not  be 
denied. 

•■  With  the  word  for  the  night  we  want 
nothing  more,"  said  Father  Luke. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  the  major,  in  the 
gravest  tone — and  he  was  naturally  grave 
— "you  shall  have  your  way;  but  remem- 
ber to  call  out  loud,  for  the  first  sentry  is 
a  little  deaf,  and  a  very  passionate,  ill- 
tempered  fellow  to  boot." 

"Never  fear,"  said  Father  Mooney, 
laughing,  "I'll  go  bail  he'll  hear  me." 

"Well — the  word  for  the  night  is — 
'Bloody  end  to  the  Pope.' — don't  forget, 
now,  '  Bloody  end  to  the  rope.'"  And 
with  these  words  he  hanged  t  lie  door  be- 
tween him  and  the  unfortunate  priests  ; 
and,  as  bolt  was  fastened  after  bolt,  they 
heard  him  laughing  to  himself  like  a  fiend 
over  his  vengeance. 

"  And  big  had  luck  to  ye,  Major  Jones, 
for  the  same,  every  day  ye  see  a  paving- 
stone,"  was  the  faint  sub-audible  ejacula- 
tion of  Father  Luke,  when  he  was  recover- 
ed enough  to  speak. 

"Sacristi!  que  nous  sommes  attrapee," 
said  the  Abbe,  scarcely  able  to  avoid  laugh- 
ing at  the  situation  in  which  they  were 
placed. 

"Well,  there's  the  quarter  chiming  now; 
we've  no  time  to  lose. — Major  Jones  !  Major 
darling  !  don't  now,  ah,  don't  !  sure  ye 
know  we'll  be  ruined  entirely — there  now, 
just  change  it,  like  a  dacent  fellow — the 
devil's  luck  to  him.  he's  gone.  Well,  we 
can't  stay  here  in  the  rain  all  night,  and  be 
expelled  in  the  morning  afterwards — so 
come  along." 

They  jogged  along  for  a  few  minutes  in 
silence,  till  they  came  to  that  part  of  the 
"Duke's"'  demesne  wall,  where  the  first 
sentry  was  stationed.  By  this  time  the 
officers;  headed  by  the  major,  had  quietly 
slipped  out  of  the  gate,  and  wire  following 
their  steps  at  a  convenient  distance. 

The  fathers  had  stopped  to  consult  to- 
gether what  they  should  do  in  this  trying 


34 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


emergency — when  their  whisper  being  over- 
heard, the   sentinel   called  out   gruffly,  in 

the  genuine  dialect  of  his  country,  "  Who 
goes  that  ?  " 

••  Father  Luke  Mooney,  and  the  Abbe 
D' Array,"  said  the  former,  in  his  most 
bland  and  insinuating  tone  of  voice,  a 
quality  he  most  eminently  possessed. 
•''Stand  and  give  the  countersign." 
"We  are  coming  from  the  mess,  and 
going  home  to  the  college,"  said  Father 
Mooney.  evading  the  question,  and  grad- 
ually advancing  as  he  spoke. 

"  Stand,  or  I'll  shot  ye,"  said  the  North 
Corkian. 

Father  Luke  halted,  while  a  muttered 
"  Blessed  Virgin  !  "  announced  his  state  of 
fear  and  trepidation. 
•"  D'Array,  I  say,  what  are  we  to  do  ?  " 
"The  countersign,"  said  the  sentry, 
whose  figure  they  could  perceive  in  the  dim 
distance  of  about  thirty  yards. 

"  Sure  ye'll  let  us  pass,  my  good  lad, 
and  ye'll  have  a  friend  in  Father  Luke  the 
longest  day  ye  live,  and  ye  might  have  a 
worse  in  time  of  need;  ye  understand." 
•  Whether  he  did  understand  or  not,  he 
certainly  did  not  heed,  for  his  only  reply 
was  the  short  click  of  a  gun-lock,  that  be- 
speaks a  preparation  to  fire. 

"There's  no  help  now,"  said  Father 
Luke  ;  "I  see  he's  a  hay  then  ;  and  bad 
luck  to  the  major,  I  say  again."  And  this, 
in  the  fulness  of  his  heart,  he  uttered 
aloud. 

"That's  not  the  countersign,"  said  the 
inexorable  sentry,  striking  the  butt-end  of 
his  musket  on  the  ground  with  a  crash 
that  smote  terror  into  the  hearts  of  the 
priests. 

Mumble — -mumble "to    the    Pope," 

said  Father  Luke,  pronouncing  the  last 
words  distinctly,  after  the  approved  prac- 
tice of  a  Dublin  watchman,  on  being  awoke 
from  his  dreams  of  row  and  riot  by  the  last 
toll  of  the  Post-office,  and  not  knowing 
whether  it  has  struck  "  twelve  "  or  "  three," 
sings  out  the  word  "o'clock,"  in  a  long, 
sonorous  drawl,  that  wakes  every  sleeping 
citizen,  and  yet  tells  nothing  how  "  Time 
speeds  on  his  flight." 

"Louder,"  said  the  sentry,  in  a  voice  of 
impatience. 

" to  the  Pope." 

"  I  don't  hear  the  first  part." 
"  Oh,  then,"  said  the  priest,  with  a  sigh 
vhat  might  have  melted  the  heart  of  any- 
thing but  a  sentry,  "  Bloody  end  ±o  the 
Pope  ;  and  may  the  saints  in  heaven  for- 
give me  for  saying  it." 

"Again,"  called  out  the  soldier  ;  "and 
no  muttering." 


"  Bloody  end  to  the  Pope,"  cried  Father 
Luke,  in  bitter  desperation  . 

"Bloody  end  to  the  Pope,"  echoed  the 
Abbe. 

"  Pass,  Bloody  end  to  the  Pope,  and 
good  night,"  said  the  sentry,  resuming  his- 
rounds,  while  a  loud  and  nproarions  peal 
of  laughter  behind  told  the  unlucky  priests 
they  were  overheard  by  others,  and  that 
the  story  would  be  over  the  whole  town  in 
the  morning. 

Whether  it  was  that  the  penance  for 
their  heresy  took  long  in  accomplishing,  or 
that  they  never  could  summon  courage 
sufficient  to  face  their  persecutor,  certain  it 
is  the  North  Cork  saw  them  no  more,  nor 
were  they  ever  observed  to  pass  the  pre- 
cincts of  the  college  while  that  regiment 
occupied  Maynooth. 

Major  Jones  himself,  and  his  confeder- 
ates, could  not  have  more  heartily  rel- 
ished this  story,  than  did  the  party  to 
whom  the  doctor  related  it.  Much,  if  not 
all  the  amusement  it  afforded,  however, 
resulted  from  his  inimitable  mode  of  tell- 
ing, and  the  power  of  mimicry  with  which 
he  conveyed  the  dialogue  with  the  sentry  : 
and  this,  alas,  must  be  lost  to  my  readers 
— at  least  to  that  portion  of  them  not 
fortunate  enough  to  possess  Dr.  Finucane7s 
acquaintance. 

"  Fin  !  Fin  !  your  long  story  has  nearly 
famished  me,"  said  the  padre,  as  the  laugh 
subsided;  "and  there  you  sit  now  with 
the  jug  at  your  elbow  this  half  hour  ;  I 
never  thought  you  would  forget  our  old 
friend  Martin  Hanegan's  aunt." 

"Here's  to  her  health,"  said  Fin  ;  "and 
your  reverence  will  give  us  the  chant." 

"Agreed,"  said  Father  Malachi,  finish- 
ing a  bumper  ;  and  after  giving  a  few  pre- 
paratory hems,  he  sang  the  following 
"singularly  wild  and  beautiful  poem,"  as 
some  one  calls  Christabel : 

'  Here's  a  health  to  Martin  Hanegan's  aunt, 

Ann  I'll  tell  ye  the  reason  why  I 
She  eats  bekase  she  is  hungry 
And  drinks  bekase  she  is  dry. 

And  if  ever  a  man, 

Stopped  the  course  of  a  can, 
Martin  Hanegan's  aunt  would  cry — 

'  Arrah,  fill  up  your  giass, 

And  let  the  jug  pass  ; 
How  d'ye  know  but  your  neighbor's  dhry  ? 

"Come,  my  lord  and  gentlemen,  da  capo, 
if  ye  please — 'Fill  up  your  glass,'"  etc.; 
and  the  chanson  was  chorused  with  a 
strength  and  vigor  that  would  have  as- 
tonished the  Philharmonic. 

The  mirth  and  fun  now  grew  "fast  and 
furious;"  and  Father  Malachi,  rising  with 


HA  Rli  Y  L  ORREQ I  BR. 


35 


tnc  occasion:  flung  hia  reckless  drollery 
and  fun  on  ev»  ry  Bide,  sparing  none,  from 
his  cousin  to  the  coadjutor.  It  was  now 
that  peculiar  period  in  the  evening's  en- 
joyment, when  an  expert  and  practical 
chaii-m  id  gives  up  ;ill  Interference  or  man- 
agement, and  leaves  everything  to  take  its 
course;  this,  then,  was  the  happy  momenl 
selected  by  Father  Malachi  to  propose  the 
little  "contribution."  He  brought  a 
plate  from  a  side-table,  and  placing  it  be- 
fore him,  addressed  the  company  in  a  very 
brief  but  sensible  speech,  detailing  the  ob- 
ject of  the  institution  ne  was  advocating, 
and  concluding  with  the  following  words: 
— "And  now  ye'll  just  give  whatever  ye 
like,  according  to  your  means  in  life,  and 
what  ye  can  spare." 

The  admonition,  like  the  "morale"  of 
an  income  tax,  having  the  immediate  ef- 
fect of  putting  each  man  against  his  neigh- 
bour, and  suggesting  to  their  already  ex- 
cited spirits  all  the  ardor  of  gambling, 
without,  however,  the  prospect  of  gain. 
The  plate  was  first  handed  to  me  in  honor 
of  my  "rank,''  and  having  deposited  upon 
it  a  handful  of  small  silver,  the  priest  ran 
his  fingers  through  the  coin,  and  called 
out : 

"Five  pounds  !  at  least  ;  not  a  farthing 
less,  as  I  am  a  sinner.  Look,  then — see, 
now  ;  they  tell  ye,  the  gentlemen  don't 
care  for  the  like  of  ye  !  but  see  for  your- 
selves. May  I  trouble  y'r  lordship  to  pass 
the  plate  to  Mr.  Mahony — he's  impatient, 
I  see." 

Mr.  Mahony,  about  whom  I  perceived 
very  little  of  the  impatience  alluded  to, 
was  a  grim-looking  old  Christian,  in  a  rab- 
bit-skin waistcoat,  with  long  flaps,  who 
fumbled  in  the  reces'ses  of  his  breeches- 
pocket  for  five  minutes,  and  then  drew 
forth  three  shillings,  which  he  laid  upon 
the  plate,  with  what  I  fancied  very  much 
resembled  a  sigh. 

"Six  and  sixpence,  is  it?  or  five  shil- 
lings ? — all  the  same,  Mr.  Mahony,  and 
I'll  not  forget  the  thrirle  you  were  speaking 
about  this  morning,  any  way."  And  here 
he  leaned  over  as  interceding  with  me  for 
him,  but  in  reality  to  whisper  into  my  ear, 
"  The  greatest  miser  from  this  to  Castle- 
bar." 

"  Who's  that  put  down  the  half  guinea 
in  goold?" — (and  this  time  he  spoke 
truth) — ''who's  that,  I  say?" 

"  Tim  Kennedy,  your  reverence,"  said 
Tim,  stroking  his  hair  down  with  one 
hand,  and  looking  proud  and  modest  at 
the  same  moment. 

"Tim,  ye're  a. credit  to  us  any  day,  and 
I  always  said  so.     It's  a  ganger  he'd  like 


to  be,  my  lord."  Baid'he,  turning  to  me  in 
a  kind  of  stage  whisper.  1  nodded  and 
muttered  something,  when  he  thanked  me 
mo8l  profoundly  as  if  Ins  suil  had  pros- 
pered. 

'•Mickey  Oulahan — the  lord's  looking 
at  vi  .  M ickev."  This  waa  saiil  pian 
across  the  table,  and  had  the  effeel  of  in- 
creasing Mr.  Oulahan's  donation  from  five 
shillings  to  seven  —  the  lasl  two  being 
pitched  in  very  much  in  the  Btyle  of  a. 
gambler  making  ins  final  coup  and  cry- 
ing, "I'"  banque!"  "The  Oulahaus  were 
always  dacent  peopli — dacenl  people,  my 
lord/' 

"Be  gorra,  the  Oulahans  was  niver  da- 
center  nor  the  Molowneys,  any  how."  said 
a  tall  athletic  young  fellow,  as  he  threw 
down  three  crown  pieces,  with  an  energy 
that  made  every  coin  leap  from  the  plate. 

"  They'll  do  now,"  said  hat  her  Brennaii ; 
"I'll  leave  them  to  themselves."  And 
truly  the  eagerness  to  get  the  plate  and 
put  down  tiie  subscription  fully  equalled 
the  rapacious  anxiety  I  have  witnessed  in 
an  old  maid  at  loo  to  get  possession  of  a 
thirty-shilling  pool,  be  the  same  more  or 
less,  which  lingered  on  its  way  to  her,  in 
the  hands  of  many  a  fair  competitor. 

"Mr.  M'Neesh  " — Cnrzon  had  hitherto 
escaped  all  notice — '"Mr.  M'Neesh,  to 
your  good  health,"  cried  Father  Brennan. 
"It's  many  a  secret  they'll  be  getting  out. 
o'  ye  down  there  about  the  Scotch  hus- 
bandry." 

Whatever  poor  Curzon  knew  of  "  drills," 
certainly  did  not  extend  to  them  when  oc- 
cupied by  turnips.  This  allusion  of  the 
priest's  being  caught  tip  by  the  party  at 
the  foot  of  the  table,  they  commenced  a 
series  of  inquiries  into  different  Scotch 
plans  of  tillage — his  brief  and  unsatisfac- 
tory answers  to  which,  they  felt  sure,  were 
given  in  order  to  evade  imparting  infor- 
mation. By  degrees,  as  they  continued  to 
press  him  with  questions,  his  replies  grew* 
more  short,  and  a  general  feeling  of  dis- 
like on  both  sides  was  not  very  long  in 
following. 

The  father  saw  this,  and  determining, 
with  Ids  usual  tact,  to  repress  it,  called  on 
the  adjutant  for  a  song.  Now,  whether 
he  had  but  one  in  the  world,  or  whether 
he  took  this  mode  of  retaliating  for  the  an- 
noyances he  had  suffered,  1  know  not-  but 
true  it  is,  he  finished  his  tumbler  at  a 
draught,  and  with  a  voice  of  no  very  pe- 
culiar sweetness,  though  abundantly  loud 
began,  "The  Boyne  Water." 

He  had  just  reached  the  word  '"battle," 
in  the  second  line,  upon  which  he  was  be- 
stowing what    he   meant   to  be  a  shake, 


3G 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


when,  as  if  the  word  suggested  it,  it  seemed 
the  signal  for  a  general  engagement.  De- 
canters, glasses,  jugs,  candlesticks, — ay, 
and  the  money-d  sh, — flew  right  and  left, 
all  originally  intended,  it  is  true,  for  the 
head  of  the  luckless  adjutant,  but  ns  they 
now  and  then  missed  their  aim,  and. came 
in  contact  with  the  "wrong  man,"  invari- 
ably provoked  retaliation,  and  in  a  very  few 
minutes  the  battle  became  general. 

What  may  have  been  the  doctor's  polit- 
ical sentiments  on  this  occasion,  I  cannot 
even  guess  ;  but  he  seemed  bent  upon 
performing  part  of  a "  convivial  Lord  Stan- 
ley," and  maintaining  a  dignified  neu- 
trality. With  this  apparent  object,  he 
mounted  upon  the  table,  to  raise  himself, 
1  suppose,  above  the  din  and  commotion 
of  party  clamor,  and  brandishing  a  jug  of 
scalding  water,  bestowed  it  with  perfect 
impartiality  on  the  combatants  on  either 
side.  This  Whig  plan  of  conciliation, 
however  well-intended,  seemed  not  to  pros- 
per with  either  party  ;  and  many  were  the 
missiles  directed  at  the  ill-starred  doctor. 
Meanwhile  Father  Malachi,  whether  fol- 
lowing the  pacific  instinct  of  his  order,  in 
seeking  an  asylum  in  troublesome  times, 
or  equally  moved  by  old  habit  to  gather 
coin  in  low  places  "(much  of  the  money 
having  fallen),  was  industriously  endeav- 
oring to  insert  himself  beneath  the  table. 
In  this,  with  one  vigorous  push,  he  at  last 
succeeded,  but  in  so  doing  lifted  it  from 
its  legs,  and  thus  destroying  poor  "  Fin's  " 
gravity,  precipitated  him,  jug  and  all,  into 
the  thickest  of  the  fray,  where  he  met 
with  that  kind  of  reception  such  a  bene- 
factor ever  receives  at  the  hands  af  a  grate- 
ful public.  I  meanwhile  hurried  to  rescue 
poor  Curzon, .  who,  having  fallen  to  the 
ground,  was  getting  a  cast  of  his  features 
taken  in  pewter,  for  such  seemed  the  op- 
eration a  stout  farmer  was  performing  on 
the  adjutant's  face  with  a  quart.  With 
considerable  difficult}'',  notwithstanding 
my  supposed  ''lordship''  I  succeeded  In 
freeing  him  from  his  present  position;  and 
he  concluding,  probably,  that  enough  had 
been  done  for  one  "sitting,"  most  willing- 
ly permitted  me  to  lead  him  from  the 
room.  I  was  soon  joined  by  the  doctor, 
who  assisted  me  in  getting  my  poor  friend 
to  bed;  which  being  done,  he  most  eagerly 
entreated  me  to  join  the  company.  This, 
however,  I  firmly  but  mildly  declined,  very 
much  to  his  surprise  ;  for  as  he  remarked 
"They'll  all  be  like  lambs  now,  for  they 
don't  believe  there's  a  whole  bone  in  his 
body." 

Expressing  my  deep  sense  of  the  Chris- 
tian-like forbearance  of  the  party,  I  pleaded 


fatigue  and  bidding  him  good-night,  ad- 
journed to  my  bedroom  ;  and  here,  al- 
though the  arrangements  fell  somewhat 
short  of  the  luxurious  ones  appertaining 
to  my  late  apartment  at  Callonby,  they 
were  most  grateful  at  the  moment  ;  and 
having  "addressed  myself  to  slumber," 
fell  fast  asleep,  and  only  awoke  late  on  the 
following  morning  to  wonder  where  I  was: 
from  any  doubts  as  to  which  I  was  speed- 
ily relieved  by  the  entrance  of  the  priest's 
barefooted  "colleen,"  to  deposit  on  my 
table  a  bottle  of  soda  water,  and  announce 
breakfast  with  his  reverence's  compli- 
ments. 

Having  made  a  hasty  toilet,  I  proceeded 
to  the  parlor,  which,  however  late  events 
might  have  impressed  upon  my  memory,  I 
could  scarcely  recognize.  Instead  of  the 
long  oak  table  and  the  wassail  bowl,  there 
stood  near  the  fire  a  small  round  table, 
covered  with  a  snow-white  cloth,  upon 
which  shone  in  unrivalled  brightness  a 
very  handsome  tea-equipage— the  hissing 
kettle  on  one  hob  was  balanced  by  a  grid- 
iron with  three  newly  taken  trout,  frying 
under  the  reverential  care  of  Father  Mal- 
achi himself — a  heap  of  eggs,  ranged  like 
shot  in  an  ordnance  yard,  stood  in  the 
middle  of  the  table,  while  a  formidable 
pile  of  buttered  toast  browned  before  the 
grate — the  morning  papers  were  airing 
upon  the  hearth  :  everything  bespoke  that 
attention  to  comfort  and  enjoyment  one 
likes  to  discover  in  the  house  where  chance 
may  have  domesticated  him  for  a  day  or 
two. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Lorrequer.  1 
trust  you  have  rested  well,"  said  Father 
Malachi,  as  I  entered. 

"  Never  better ;  "but  where  are  our 
friends  ?" 

"  1  have  been  visiting  and  comforting 
them  in  their  affliction,  and  I  may  with 
truth  assert  it  is  not  often  my  fortune  to 
have  three  as  sickly-looking  guests.  That 
was  a  most  unlucky  affair  last  night,  and  I 
must  apologizo " 

"  Don't  say  a  word,  I  entreat ;  I  saw 
Iioav  it  all  occurred,  and  am  quite  sure  if 
it  had  not  been  for  poor  Curzon's  ill-timed 
melody " 

"  You  are  quite  right,"  said  the  father, 
in  terrupting  me.  "  Your  friend's  taste  for 
music — bad  luck  to  it ! — was  the  'teterrima 
causa  belli.'" 

"And  the  subscription,"  said  I ;  "how 
did  it  succeed  ?  " 

"  Oh,  the  money  went  in  the  commo- 
tion ;  and  although  1  have  got  some  seven 
pounds  odd  shillings  of  it,  the  war  was  a 
most  expensive  one  to  me.     I  caught  old 


HA  RR  Y  L  ORREQ  UER. 


37 


M"ahony  very  busy  under  (lie  table  during 
the  fray;  but  let  us  say  no  more  about  it 
now — draw  over  your  chair.  Tea  or  cof- 
fee ?  there's  the  rum  if  you  like  it,  in 
French  fashion." 

I  immediately  obeyed  the  injunction, 
and  commenced  a  vigorous  assault  upon 
the  trout,  caught,  as  lie  informed  me, 
"within  twenty  perches  of  the  house." 

"  Your  poor  friend's  nose  is  scarcely 
regimental,"  said  he,  "  this  morning  ;  and 
as  for  Fin,  he  was  never  remarkable 
for  beauty,  so,  though  they  might  cut 
and  hack)  they  could  scarcely  disfigure 
him.  As  Juvenal  says — isn't  it  Juve- 
nal ?— 


'  Cantabit  vacuus  coram  latrone  viator  ;' 
or,  in  the  vernacular  : 

'  The  empty  traveler  may  whistle 
Before  the  robber  and  his  pistil '  (pistol). 

There's  the  Chili  vinegar — another  morsel 
of  the  trout  ?  " 

"  I  thank  you  ;  what  excellent  coffee. 
Father  Malachi !  " 

"  A  secret  I  learned  at  St.  Osier's  some 
thirty  years  since.  Any  letters,  Bridget  ?  " 
- — to  a  damsel  that  entered  with  a  packet 
in  her  hand. 

"  A  gossoon  from  Kilrush,  y'r  rever- 
ence, with  a  bit  of  a  note  for  the  gentle- 
man there." 

"  For  me  ! — ah,  true  enough.  '  Harry 
Lorrequer,  Esq.,  Kilrush. — Try  Carriga- 
holt.'  "  80  ran  the  superscription — the 
first  part  being  in  a  lady's  handwriting  ; 
the  latter  very  like  the  "  rustic  paling"  of 
the  worthy  Mrs.  Healy's  style.  The  seal 
was  a  large  one,  bearing  a  coronet  at  top, 
and  the  motto,  in  old  Norman-'French, 
told  me  it  came  from  Callonby. 

With  what  a  trembling  hand  and  beat- 
ing heart  I  broke  it  open,  and  yet  feared 
to  read  it — so  much  of  my  destiny  might 
be  in  that  simple  page.  For  once  in  my 
life  my  sanguine  spirit  failed  me  ;  my  mind 
could  take  in  but  one  casualty,  that  Lady 
Jane  had  divulged  to  her  family  the  nature 
of  my  attentions,  and  that  in  tfie  letter 
before  me  lay  a  cold  mandate  of  dismissal 
from  her  presence  forever. 

At  last  I  summoned  courage  to  read  it ; 
but  having  scrupled  to  present  to  my 
readers  the  Reverend  Father  Brennan  at 
the  end  of  a  chapter,  let  me  not  be  less 
punctilious  in  the  introduction  of  her  lady- 
ship's billet. 


CHAPTEE   VII. 

Tin:  LADY'  PETEB  AND  II iv  .-,(  yruvr.". 

— Too  LATE. 

HER  ladyship's  letter  ran  thus  : 

"Callonby,  Tuesday  mor 

"My  dear  Mr.  Lorrequer,— My  lord 
has  deputed  me  to  convey  to  you  our 
adieux,  and  at  the  same  time  express  our 
very  greai  regrel  thai  we  should  not  have 
seen  you  before  our  deparl  ure  from  Ireland. 
A  sudden  call  of  the  douse,  and  some  un- 
expected ministerial  change.-,  require  Lord 
Oallonby's  immediate  presence  in  town  ; 
and  probably  before  this  reaches  you  we 
shall  be  on  the  road.  Lord  Kilkee.  who  lefl 
us  yesterday,  was  much  distressed  at  not 
having  seen  you — he  desired  me  to  say  you 
shall  hear  from  him  from  Leamington. 
Although 'writing  amid  all  the  basic  and 
bustle  of  "departure,  I  must  not  forget  the 
principal  part  of  my  commission,  nor. 
ladylike,  defer  it  to  a  postscript  :  my  lord 
entreats  that  you  will,  if  possible,  pass  a 
month  or  two  with  us  in  London  this 
season  ;  and  if  any  difficulty  should  occur 
in  obtaining  leave  of  abscence,  to  make 
any  use  of  his  name  you  think  fit  at  the 
Horse  Guards,  where  he  has  some  influ- 
ence. Knowing  as  1  do  with  what  kind- 
ness you  ever  accede  to  the  wishes  of  your 
friends,  I  need  not  say  how  much  gratifi- 
cation this  will  afford  us  all  :  but  sans  re- 
sponse, we  expect  you.  Believe  me  to  re- 
maim  yours  very  sincerely, 

"Charlotte  Callonby. 

"P.  S. — We  are  quite  well,  except  Lady 
Jane,  who  has  a  slight  cold,  and  has  been 
feverish  for  the  last  day  or  two." 

Words  cannot  convey  any  idea  of  the 
torrent  of  contending  emotions  under 
which  I  perused  this  letter.  The  sudden- 
ness of  the  departure,  without  an  oppor- 
tunity of  even  a  moment's  leave-taking, 
completely  unmanned  me.  What  would  1 
nor  have  given  to  be  able  to  see  her  once 
more,  even  for  an  instant — to. say  "  a  good- 
bye " — to  watch  the  feeling  with  which 
she  parted  from  me,  and  augur  from  it 
Cither  favorably  to  my  heart's  dearest 
hope,  or  darkest  despair.  As  I  continued 
to  read  on.  the  kindly  tone  of  the  remain- 
der reassured  me  :  and  when  I  came  .to 
the  invitation  to  London,  which  plainly 
argued  a  wish  on  their  part  to  perpetuate 
the  intimacy.  I  was  obliged  to  read  it 
again  and  again  before  1  could  convince 


38 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


myself  of  its  reality.  There  it  was,  how- 
ever, most,  distinctly  and  legibly  impressed 
in  her  ladyship's  fairest  caligraphy  ;  and 
certainly,  great  as  was  its  consequence  to 
me  at  the  time,  it  by  no  means  formed  the 
principal  part  of  the  communication. 
The  two  lines  of  postscript '  contained 
more,  far  more  food  for  hopes  and  fears, 
than  did  all  the  rest  of  the  epistle. 

Lady  Jane  was  ill  then  ;  slightly,  how- 
ever— a  mere  cold  ;  true,  but  she  was  fev- 
erish. I  could  not  help  asking  myself 
what  share  had  I  in  causing  that  flushed 
cheek  and  anxious  eye,  and  nictured  to 
myself,  perhaps  with  more  vividness  than 
reality,  a  thousand  little  traits  of  manner, 
all  proofs  strong  as  holy  writ  to  my  san- 
guine mind,  that  my  affection  was  re- 
turned, and  that  I  loved  not  in  vain. 
Again  and  again  I  read  over  the  entire  let- 
ter ;  never  truly  did  a  nisi  prius  lawyer 
con  over  a  new  act  of  parliament  with 
more  searching  ingenuity,  to  detect  its 
hidden  meaning,  than  I  did  to  unravel 
through  its  plain  phraseology  the  secret 
intention  of  the  writer  towards  me. 

There  is  an  old  and  not  less  true  adage, 
that  what  we  wish  we  readily  believe  ;  and 
so  with  me.  I  found  myself  ah  easy  con- 
vert to  my  own  hopes  and  desires,  and  ac- 
tually ended  by  persuading  myself  —  no 
very  hard  task — that  my  Lord  Callonby 
had  not  only  witnessed  but  approved  of 
my  attachment  to  his  beautiful  daughter, 
and  for  reasons  probably  known  to  him, 
but  concealed  from  me,  opined  that  I  was 
a  suitable  il parti"  and* gave  all  due  en- 
couragement to  my  suit.  The  hint  about 
using  his  lordship's  influence  at  the  Horse 
Guards  I  resolved  to  benefit  by  ;  not,  how- 
ever, in  obtaining  leave  of  absence,  which 
I  hoped  to  accomplish  more  easily,  but 
with  his  good  sanction  in  pushing  my  pro- 
motion, when  I  should  claim  him  as  my 
right  honorable  father-in-law — a  point  on 
the  propriety  of  which  I  had  now  fully 
satisfied  myself.  What  visions  of  rising 
greatness  burst  upon  my  mind,  as  I 
thought  on  the  prospect  that  opened  lie- 
fore  me  !  but  here  let  me  do  myself  the 
justice  to  record,  that  amid  all  my  pleas- 
ure and  exultation,  my  proudest  thought 
was  in  the  anticipation  of  possessing  one 
in  every  way  so  much  my  superior — the 
very  consciousness  of  which  imparted  a 
thrill  of  fear  to  my  heart,  that  such  good 
fortune  was  too  much  even  to  hope  for. 

How  long  I  might  have  luxuriated  in 
such  Chateaux  en  Espagne,  Heaven  knows; 
thick  and  thronging  fancies  came  abun- 
dantly to  my  mind,  and  it  was  with  some- 
thing of  the  feeling  of  the  porter  in  the 


"•  Arabian  Nights,"  as  he  surveyed  the 
fragments  of  his  broken  ware,  hurled  down 
in  a  moment  of  glorious  dreaminess,  that 
I  turned  to  look  at  the  squat  and  unaris- 
tocratic  figure  of  Father  Malachi,  as  he 
sat  reading  his  newspaper  before  the  fire. 
How  came  I  in  such  company  ? — methinks 
the  Dean  of  Windsor,  or  the  Bishop  of 
Durham,  had  been  a  much  more  seemly 
associate  for  one  destined  as  I  was  for  the 
flood-tide  of  the  world's  favor. 

My  eye  at  this  instant  rested  upon  the 
date  of  the  letter,  which  was  that  of  the 
preceding  morning,  and  immediately  a 
thought  struck  me  that,  as  the  day  was  a 
louring  and  gloomy  one,  perhaps  they 
might  have  deferred  their  journey,  and  I 
at  once  determined  to  hasten  to  Callonby, 
and,  if  possible,  see  them  before  their  de- 
parture. 

"  Father  Brennan,"  said  I  at  length,  ';  I 
have  just  received  a  letter  which  compels 
me  to  reach  Kilrush  as  soon  as  possible. 
Is  there  any  public  convej'ance  in  the 
village  ?  " 

"  You  don't  talk  of  leaving  us,  surely," 
said  the  priest,  "and  a  haunch  of  mutton 
for  dinner,  and  Fin  says  he'll  be  down, 
and  your  friend  too,  and  we'll  have  poor 
Beamish  in  on  a  sofa." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  my  business  will  not 
admit  of  delay,  but,  if  possible,  I  shall  re- 
turn to  thank  you  for  all  your  kindness, 
in  a  day  or  two — perhaps  to-morrow." 

"Oh,  then,"  said  Father  Brennan,  '•if 
it  must  be  so,  why  yon  can  have  'Pother/ 
my  own  pad,  and  a  better  you  never  laid 
leg  over  ;  only  give  him  his  own  time,  and 
let  him  keep  the  'canter,'  and  he'll  never 
draw  up  from  morning  till  night.  And 
now  I'll  just  go  and  have  him  in  readiness 
for  you." 

After  professing  my  warm  acknowledg- 
ments to  the  good  father  for  his  kindness, 
I  hastened  to  take  a  hurried  farewell  of 
Curzon  before  going.  I  found  him  sitting 
up  in  bed  taking  his  breakfast  ;  a  large 
strip  of  black  plaster,  extending  from  the 
corner  of  one  eye  across  the  nose,  and 
terminating  near  the  mouth,  denoting  the 
locale  of  a  goodly  wound  ;  while  the  blue, 
purple,  and  yellow  patches  into  which  his 
face  was, partitioned  out,  left  you  in  doubt 
whether  he  more  resembled  the  knave  of 
el  nbs  or  a  new  map  of  the  Ordnance  survey; 
one  hand  was  wrapped  up  in  a  bandage, 
and  altogether  a  more  rueful  and  woebe- 
gone looking  figure  I  have  rarely  looked 
upon  ;  and  most  certainly  I  am  of  opinion 
that  the  "glorious,  pious,  and  immortal 
memory"  would  have  brought  pleasanter 
recollections  to  Daniel  O'Connell  himself 


HARRY   LORREQUER. 


30 


than  it  did  on  that  morning  to  the  adju- 
tant of  his  Majesty's  i-  1 1). 
"Ali,    Earry,"   said    lie,  as    I    entered, 

"what  Pandemonium  is  this  we've  goi 
into?  Did  you  over  witness  such  a  busi- 
ness as  last  night's  ?  " 

"Why,  truly,"  said  I,  "I  know  of  no 
one  to  blame  hut  yourself  ;  surely  yon 
must  have  known  what  a  row  your  infer- 
nal song  would  bring  on." 

"I  don't  know  now  whether  I  knew  it 
or  nut;  but  certainly  at  the  moment  I 
should  have  preferred  anything  to  the  con- 
founded cross-examination  1  was  under, 
and  was  glad  to  end  it  by  any  coup  d'etat 
One  wretch  was  persecuting  me  about 
green  crops,  and  another  about  the  feeding 
of  bullocks; — about  either  of  which  I  knew 
as  much  as  a  hear  does  of  a,  ballet." 

"Well,  truly,  you  caused  a  diversion  at 
some  expense  to  your  countenance,  for  1 
never  beheld  anything " 

"  Stop  there,"  said  he;  "you  surely 
have  not  seen  the  doctor — he  beats'me  hol- 
low— they  have  scarcely  left  so  much  hair 
on  his  head  as  would  do  for  an  Indian's 
scalp-lock  ;  and,  of  a  verity,  his  aspect  is 
awful  this  morning.  He  has  just  been 
here,  and.  by  the  by,  has  told  me  all  about 
your  affair  with  Beamish.  It  appears  that 
somehow  you  met  him  at  dinner,  and  gave 
a  very  flourishing  account  of  a  relative  of 
his,  who,  you  informed  him,  was  not  only 
selected  for  some  very  dashing  service,  but 
actually  the  personal  friend  of  Picton ; 
and,  after  the  family  having  blazed  the 
matter  all  over  Cork,  and  given  a  great 
entertainment  in  honor  of  their  kinsman, 
it  turns  out  that,  on  the  glorious  18th,  he 
ran  away  to  Brussels  faster  than  even  the 
French  to  Charleroi  ;  for  which  act,  how- 
ever, there  was  no  aspersion  ever  cast  upon 
his  courage,  that  quality  being  defended 
at  the  expense  of  his  honesty  ;  in  a  word, 
he  was  the  paymaster  of  his  company,  and 
had  what  Theodore  Hook  calls  an  'affec- 
tion of  his  chest,'  that  required  change  of 
air.  Looking  only  to  the  running  away 
part  of  the  matter,  I  unluckily  expressed 
some  regret  that  he  did  not  belong  to  the 
North  Cork,  and  I  remarked  the  doctor 
did  not  seem  to  relish  the  illusion,  and  as 
/only  now  remember,  it  was  his  regiment, 
I  suppose  I'm  in  for  more  mischief." 

I  had  no  time  to  enjoy  Curzon's  dilem- 
ma, and  had  barely  informed  him  of  my 
intended  departure,  when  a  voice  from 
without  the  room  proclaimed  that  ''Pe- 
ttier"  was  ready,  and,  having  commissioned 
the  adjutant  to  say  the  "proper"  to  Mr. 
Beamish  and  the  doctor,  hurried  awav,  and 
after  a  hearty  shake  of  the  hand  from  Fa- 


ther Brennan,  and   a  faithful  promis 
ret  urn  soon,  I  mounted  and  si  t  off. 

Peter's  pace  was  of  nil  others  the 
leasl  likely  to  disturb  the  lucubrations  of  a 
castle-builder  like  myself;  without  anyad- 
monil  ion  from  whip  or  spur  he  maintained 
a  Btcady  and  eon-taut  canter,  which,  I  am 
free  to  confess,  was  more  agreeable  to 
than  ir,  was   graceful    to  behold  ;  for  his 
head  being  much   lower  than  his  tail,  ho 
every  moment  appeared  in  t he  at! itude 
a  diver  aboul  to  plunge  into  t  he  water,  and 
more  1  lian   once   J  had  misgn  ings 
would  consult  my  safety  better  if  I  sat  with 
my  face  to  the  tail  ;  however,  whar  will  not 
habit  accomplish  ?    before    I   had    irono  a 
mile  or  two,  I  was  so  lost  in   my  own  rev- 
eries and  reflections,  that  I  knew  noli, 
of  my  mode  of  progression,  and  had  i 
thoughts  and  feelings  for  the  destiny  that 
awaited   me.     Sometimes   I   would    fa 
myself  seated  in  the  House  of  Comtm 
(on   the   ministerial  benches,  of  cours 
while  some  leading  oppositionist  was  pro- 
nouncing a  glowing   panegyric  upon    the 
eloquent  and  statesmanlike  speech  of  the 
gallant  colonel — myself;  then  I  th 
was  making  arrangements  for  setting  out 
for   my    new    appointment,    and    Sancho 
Panza   never   coveted   the  government  of 
an  island  more  than  I  did,  though   only  a 
West  Indian  one  ;  and,  lastly,  I  saw  myself 
the  chosen  diplomate  on  a  difficult  mis- 
sion, and  was  actually  engaged  in  the  < 
and  agreeable  occupation  of  out-maneuver- 
ing Talleyrand  and  Pozzo  di  Borgo,  when 
Peter  suddenly  drew  up  at  the  door  of  a 
small  cabin,  and  convinced  me  that  I  was 
still  a  mortal  man,  and  a  lieutenant  in  his 
Majesty's  4 — th.     Before  I   had  time   af- 
forded me  even  to  guess  at  the  reason  of 
this  sudden  halt,  an  old  man  emerged  from 
the  cabin,  which  I  saw  now  was  a  road- 
side ale-house,  and  presented  Peter  with  a 
bucket   of    meal   and    water,  a  species  of 
"refresher"  that  he  evidently  was  accus- 
tomed to  at  this  place,  whether  bestrode 
by  a  priest  or  an  ambassador.     Before  me 
lay  a  long  straggling  street  of  cabins,  ir- 
regularly thrown,  as   if  riddled   over  the 
ground  ;  this  I  was  informed   was  Kilki  e. 
While  my  good  steed,  therefore,  was  enjoy- 
ing his  potation.  I  dismounted,  to  stretch 
my  legs  and   look  about  me  ;  and  scarcely 
had  I  done  so,  when  I  found  half  the  pop- 
ulation  of   the   village   assembled    round 
Peter,  whose  claims   to  notoriety.    I  now 
learned,  depended  neither  upon  his  owner's 
fame,  nor  even  my  temporary  possession  of 
him.     Peter,    in    fact,    had   been  a   racer, 
once — when,   the    Wandering   Jew    might 
perhaps  have  told,  had  he  ever  visited  Clare 


40 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


— for  not  the  oklost  inhabitant  know  the 
date  of  his  triumphs  on  the  turf  ;  though 
they  were  undisputed  traditions,  and  never 
did  any  man  appear  bold  enough  to  cull 
them  in  question.  Whether  it  was  from 
bis  patriarchal  character,  or  that  lie  was 
the  only  race-horse  over  known  in  his 
county,  I  cannot  say,  but,  of  a  truth,  the 
Grand  Lama  could  scarcely  be  a  greater 
object  of  reverence  in  Thibet  than  was 
Peter  in  Kilkee. 

"  Musha,  Peter,  but  it's  well  y'r  looking," 
cried  one. 

"Ah,  thin,  maybe  ye  an't  fat  on  the 
ribs,"  cried  another. 

"  An'  cockin'  his  tail  like  a  coult,"  said 
a  third. 

I  am  very  certain,  if  I  might  venture  to 
judge  from  the  faces  about,  that,  had  the 
favorite  for  the  St.  Ledger  passed  through 
Kilkee  at  that  moment,  comparisons  very 
little  to  his  favor  had  been  drawn  from 
the  assemblage  around  me.  With  some 
difficulty  I  was  permitted  to  reach  my 
much-admired  steed,  and  with  a  cheer, 
which  was  sustained  and  caught  up  by 
every  denizen  of  the  village  as  I  passed 
through,  1  rode  on  my  way,  not  a  little 
amused  at  my  equivocal  popularity. 

Being  desirous  to  lose  no  time,  I  di- 
verged from  the  straight  road  which  leads 
to  Kilrush,  and  took  a  cross  bridle-path  to 
Callonby  :  this,  I  afterwards  discovered, 
was  a  detour  of  a  mile  or  two,  and  .it  was 
already  sunset  when  I  reached  the  entrance 
to  the  park.  I  entered  the  avenue,  and 
now  my  impatience  became  extreme,  for 
although  Peter  continued  to  move  at  the 
same  uniform  pace,  I  could  not  persuade 
myself  that  he  was  not  foundering  at  every 
step,  and  was  quite  sure  we  were  scarcely 
advancing  ;  at  last  I  reached  the  wooden 
bridge,  and  ascended  the  steep  slope,  the 
spot  where  I  had  first  met  her,  on  whom 
my  every  thought  now  rested.  I  turned 
the  angle  of  the  clump  of  beech  trees  from 
whence  the  first  view  of  the  house  is 
caught.  I  perceived,  to  my  inexpressible 
delight,  that  gleams  of  light  shot  from 
many  of  the  windows,  and  could  trace 
their  passing  from  one  to  the  other.  I 
now  drew  rein,  and  with  a  heart  relieved 
from  a  load  of  anxiety,  pulled  up  my  good 
steed,  and  began  to  think  of  the  position 
in  which  a  few  brief  seconds  would  place 
me.  I  reached  the  small  flower-garden, 
sacred  by  a  thousand  endearing  recollec- 
tions. Oh  !  of  how  very  little  account  are 
the  many  words  of  passing  kindness,  and 
moments  of  light-hearted  pleasure,  when 
spoken  or  felt,  compared  to  the  memory  of 
them  when  hallowed  by  time  or  distance  I 


"The  place,  the  hour,  the  sunshine  and 
the  shade."  all  reminded  me  of  the  happy 
past,  and  all  brought  vividly  befoie  mo 
every  portion  of  that  dream  of  happiness 
in  which  I  was  so  utterly,  so  completely 
steeped — every  thought  of  the  hopelessness 
of  my  passion  was  lost  in  the  intensity  of 
it,  and  1  did  not,  in  the  ardor  of  my  lov- 
ing, stop  to  think  of  its  possible  success. 

It  was  strange  enough  that  the  extreme 
impatience,  the  hurried  anxiety,  I  had  felt 
and  suffered  from,  while  riding  up  the 
avenue,  had  now  fled  entirely,  and  in  its 
place  I  felt  nothing  but  a  diffident  distrust 
of  myself,  and  a  vague  sense  of  awkward- 
ness about  intruding  thus  unexpectedly 
upon  the  family,  while  engaged  in  all  the 
cares  and  preparations  for  a  speedy  de- 
parture. The  hall-door  Jay  as  usual  wide 
open,  the  hall  itself  was  strewn  and  littered 
with  trunks,  imperials,  and  packing-cases, 
and  the  hundred  et  ceteras  of  traveling 
baggage.  I  hesitated  a  moment  whether  I 
should  not  ring,  but  at  last  resolved  to  en- 
ter unannounced,  and,  presuming  upon  my 
intimacy,  see  what  effect  my  sudden  ap- 
pearance would  have  on  Lady  Jane,  whose 
feelings  towards,  me  would  be  thus  most 
unequivocally  tested.  I  passed  along  the 
wide  corridor,  entered  the  music-room — it 
was  still.  I  walked  then  to  the  door  of 
the  drawing-room — I  paused — I  drew  a 
full  breath — my  hand  trembled  slightly  as 
I  turned  the  lock — I  entered — the  room 
was  empty,  but  the  blazing  fire  upon  the 
hearth,  the  large  armchairs  drawn  round, 
the  scattered  books  upon  the  small  tables, 
all  told  that  it  had  been  inhabited  a  very 
short  time  before.  "Ah!"  thought  I, 
looking  at  my  watch,  "they  are  at  din- 
ner ;  "  and  1  began  at  once  to  devise  a 
hundred  different  plans  to  account  for  my 
late  absence  and  present  visit.  I  knew 
that  a  few  minutes  would  probably  bring 
them  into  the  drawing-room,  and  I  felt 
flurried  and  heated  as  the  time  drew  near. 
At  last  I  heard  voices  without.  I  started 
from  the  examination  of  a  pencil  drawing, 
partly  finished,  but  the  artist  of  which  I 
could  not  be  deceived  in.  I  listened — the 
sounds  drew  near — I  could  not  distinguish 
who  were  the  speakers  —  the  door-lock 
turned,  and  I  rose  to  make  my  well- 
conned,  but  half-forgotten  speech  ;  and  oh, 
confounded  disappointment  !  Mrs.  Her- 
bert, the  housekeeper, entered.  She  start  id, 
not  expecting  to  see  me,  and  immediately 
said, — 

"  Oh  !  Mr.  Lorrequer  !  then  you've  miss- 
ed them  ?  " 

"  Missed  them  !  "  said  I ;  "  how — when 
— where  ?" 


BARRY  LORREQVl-i:. 


41 


"  Did  you  not  get  a  note  from  my  lord  ? " 

"  No  ;  when  was  it  «  i'il  ten  ?" 

"Oh  dear  me,  that  is  so  very  unfortu- 
nate. Why,  sir,  my  lord  sen!  on  a  servant 
this  morning  to  Kilrush,  in  Lord  Kilkee's 
bilbury,  to  request  yon  would  meet  them 
all  in  Ennis  this  evening,  where  they  had 
intended  to  stop  for  to-night  ;  and  they 
waited  here  till  near  four  o'clock  to-day. 
but  when  the  servant  came  hack  with  the 
intelligence  that  you  wcv^  from  home,  and 
not  expected  to  return  soon,  they  were 
obliged  to  set  out,  and  are  not  going  to 
make  any  delay  now,  till  they  reach  Lon- 
don. The  last  direction,  however,  my  lord 
gave,  was  to  forward  her  ladyship's  letter 
to  you  as  soon  as  possible." 

What  I  thought,  said,  or  felt,  might  be 
a  good  subject  of  confession  to  Father 
Malachi,  for  I  fear  it  may  be  recorded 
among  my  sins,  as  I  doubt  not  the  agony 
I  suffered  vented  itself  in  no  measured 
form  of  speech  or  conduct ;  but  I  have 
nothing  to  confess  here  on  the  subject,  be- 
ing so  totally  overwhelmed  as  not  to  know 
what  I  did  or  said.  My  first  gleam  of 
reason  elicited  itself  by  asking, 

"  Is  there,  then,  no  chance  of  their 
stopping  in  Ennis  to-night?"  As  I  put 
the  question,  my  mind  reverted  to  Peter 
and  his  eternal  canter. 

"  Oh  dear  no,  sir  ;  the  horses  are  ordered 
to  take  them,  since  Tuesday ;  and  they 
only  thought  of  staying  in  Ennis,  if  you 
came  time  enough  to  meet  them — and  they 
will  be  so  sorry." 

"  Do  you  think  so,  Mrs.  Herbert  ?  do 
you  indeed  think  so  ?  "  said  I,  in  a  most  in- 
sinuating tone. 

"  I  am  perfectly  sure  of  it,  sir.*' 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Herbert,  you  are  too  kind  to 
think  so  ;  but  perhaps — that  is — may  be, 
Mrs.  Herbert,  she  said  something " 

"Who,  sir?" 

''  Lady  Callonby,  I  mean  ;  did  her  lady- 
ship leave  any  message  for  me  about  her 
plants  ?  or  did  she  remember " 

Mrs.  Herbert  kept  looking  at  me  all  the 
time,  with  her  great  wide  grey  eye-,  while 
I  kept  stammering  and  blushing  like  a 
schoolboy. 

"No,  sir;  her  ladyship  said  nothing, 
sir  :  but  Lady  Jane " 

"  Yes  ;  well,  what  of  Lady  Jane,  my 
dear  Mrs.  Herbert?" 

"  Oh,  sir  !  but  you  look  pale  ;  would  you 
not  like  to. have  a  little  wine  and  water — 
or  perhaps " 

"No,  thank  you,  nothing  whatever;  I 
am  just  a  little  fatigued — but  you  were, 
mentioning " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  I  was  saying  that  Lady  Jane 


was  mighty  particular  aboul  a  small  pla 
she  ordered  it  bo  be   lefl  in   her  d 
room.     Though    Collins  bold    her  bo  h 
.-'.me  of  the  Handsome  ones  of  the  green- 
house, she  would  have  nothing  but  bl 
and  if    you    were  only    bo    hi  ar  half 
directions     she    gave    aboul     keeping     it 
watered,  and  taking  off  (had  leaves, 
think  her  heart   was  set  on  it." 

Mrs.    Herbert  would  have  had   no  cause 
to  pres  tribe  for  my  paleni  -he  only 

looked  at  me  this  time;  fortunately,  how- 
ever, she  was  engaged  housekeeper-like 
bustling  among  books,  papers,  etc.,  which 
she  had  cook  in  for  the  purpose  of  arrang- 
ing and  packing  up.  She  being  lefl  behind 
to  bring  up  the  rear  and  the  heavy  1 
-age. 

Very   few  moments    consideration 
sufficient   to   show    me    that   pursuit  was 

hopeless.      Whatever     might      have     been 
Peter's  performance  in  the  reign  of  "  Queen 
Anne,"  he  had  now  become,  like  the  g< 
so  pathetically    described    by   my    frii  nd 
Lover,  rather  "stiff  in  his  limbs,"  and 
odds  were  fearfully  against  his  overtak 
four  horses,  starting  fresh  every  ten  rri 
not  to  mention  their  being  some  hour.-  in 
advance  already.      Having  declined  ail  M  i  -. 
Herbert's  many  kind  offers  anent  food  and 
rest,  I    took   a  last  lingering  look  at   the 
beautiful  picture,  which  still  held  its  place 
in  the  room  lately  mine,  and  hurried  from 
a  place  so  full  of  recollections  ;  and,  not- 
withstanding the  many  reasons  I  had  for 
self-gratulation,  every  object   around  and 
about  filled  me  with  sorrow  and  regret  for 
hours  that    had    passed — never,    never    to 
return. 

It  was  very  late  when  I  reached  my  old 
quarters  at  Kilrush.  Mrs.  Healy.  fortu- 
nately, I  say,  for  had  she  selected  that  occa- 
sion to  vent  her  indignation  for  niv  I 
absence,  I  greatly  fear  that,  in  my  then 
temper,  I  should  have  exhibited  bnl  lil  • 
of  that  Job-like  endurance  for  which  I  w  as 
once  esteemed.  I  entered  my  little  mean- 
looking  parlor,  with  its  three  chairs 
and  lame  table,  and,  as  I  flung  myself  up 
on  thewretehed  substitute  for  a  sofa,  and 
thought  upon  the  varied  events  which  a 
weeks  had  brought  about,  it  required  the 
aid  of  her  ladyship's  letter,  which  1  had 
opened  before  me,  to  assure  me  I  was  not 
dreaming. 

The  entire  of  that  night  I  could  not 
sleep;  my  destiny  seemed  upon  its  balai 
and,  whether  the  scale  inclined  to  this- 
or  that,  good  or  evil  fortune  seemed  to  be- 
tide me.  How  many  were  my  plans  and 
resolutions,  and  how  often  abandoned ; 
again  to  be  pondered  over,  and  once  more 


42 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WO  RES. 


given  up  !  The  grey  dawn  of  the  morn- 
ing was  already  breaking,  and  found  me 
still  doubting  and  uncertain.  At  last  the 
die  was  thrown;  I  determined  at  once  to 
apply  for  leave  to  my  commanding  officer 
(which  he  could,  if  lie  pleased,  give  me, 
without  any  application  to  the  Horse 
Guards),  set  out  for  Elton,  tell  Sir  Guy  my 
whole  adventure,  and  endeavor,  by  a  more 
moving  love-story  than  ever  graced  even 
the  Minerva  Press,  to  induce  him  to  make 
some  settlement  on  me,  and  use  his  influ- 
ence with  Lord  Callonby  in  my  behalf  ; 
this  done,  set  out  for  London,  and  then — 
and  then — what  then  ? — then  for  the  Morn- 
ing Post — '"orange  flowers" — "happy 
couple  "■ — "*  Lord  Callonby's  seat  in  Hamp- 
shire," etc.,  etc. 

"You  wished  to  be  called  at  fiive,  sir," 
said  Stubbes. 

"  Yes  ;  is  it  five  o'clock  ?  " 

"No,  sir;  but  I  heard  you  call  out 
something  about  'four  horses,'  and  I 
thought  you  might  be  hurried,  so  I  came 
in  a  little  earlier." 

"Quite  right,  Stubbes.  Let  me  have 
my -breakfast  as  soon  as  possible,  and  see 
that  chestnut  horse  I  brought  here  last 
night,  fed." 

"And  now  for  it,"  said  I.  After  writ- 
ing a  hurried  note  to  Curzon,  requesting 
him  to  take  command  of  my  party  at  Kil- 
rush  till  he  heard  from  me,  and  sending 
my  kind  remembrance  to  my  three  friends, 
I  despatched  the  epistle  by  my  servant  on 
Peter,  while  1  hastened  to  secure  a  place 
in  the  mail  for  Ennis,  on  the  box-seat  of 
which  let  my  kind  reader  suppose  me 
seated,  as,  wrapping  my  box-coat  around 
me,  I  lit  my  cigar  and  turned  my  eyes  to- 
wards Limerick. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


CONGRATULATIONS — SICK  LEAVE- 
BOARD. 


-HOW  TO  PASS  THE 


I  had  scarcely  seated  myself  to  breakfast 
at  Swinburn's  Hotel  in  Limerick,  Avhen 
the  waiter  presented  me  with  a  letter.  As 
my  first  glance  at  the  address  showed  it  to 
be  in  Colonel  Garden's  handwriting,  I  felt 
not  a  little  alarmed  for  the  consequences 
of  the  rash  step  I  had  taken  in  leaving  my 
detachment ;  and,  while  quickly-thronging 
fancies  of  arrest  and  court-martial  flitted 
before  me,  I  summoned  resolution  at  last 
to  break  the  seal,  and  read  as  follows  : — 

"  My  di;.\r  Lorrequer," — "  '  Dear  Lor- 
requer  1'  dear  me,"  thought  I,  "cool,  cer- 


tainly, from  one  I  have  ever  regarded  as 
an  open  enemy" — " My  dear  Lorrequer,  I 
have  just,  accidentally  heard  of  your  arrival 
here,  and  hasten  to  inform  you  tint,  as  it 
may  not  be  impossible  your  reasons  for  so 
abruptly  leaving  your  detachment  are 
known  to  me,  I  shall  not  visit  your  breach 
of  discipline  very  heavily.  My  old  and 
worthy  friend,  Lord  Callonby,  who  passed 
through  here  yesterday,  has  so  warmly  in- 
terested himself  in  your  behalf,  that  I  feel 
disposed  to  do  all  in  my  power  to  serve 
you  ;  independent  of  my  desire  to  do  so  on 
your  own  account.  Come  over  here,  then, 
as  soon  as  possible,  and  let  us  talk  over 
your  plans  together. 

"Believe  me,  most  truly  yours, 

"Henry  Carden". 

"Barracks,  10  o'clock." 

However  mysterious  and  difficult  to  un- 
ravel have  been  some  of  the  circumstances 
narrated  in  these  "Confessions,"  I  do  not 
scruple  to  avow  that  the  preceding  letter 
was  to  we  by  far  the  most  inexplicable 
piece  of  fortune  I  had  hitherto  met  with. 
That  Lord  Callonby  should  have  converted 
one  whom  I  believed  an  implacable  foe 
into  a  most  obliging  friend,  was  intelligible 
enough,  seeing  that  his  lordship  had 
through  life  been  the  patron  of  the  colonel; 
but  why  he  had  so  done,  and  what  com- 
munications lie  could  possibly  have  made 
with  regard  to  me,  that  Colonel  Garden 
should  speak  of  '"my  plans  "and  proffer 
assistance  in  them,  was  a  perfect  riddle  ; 
and  the  only  solution,  one  so  ridiculously 
flattering  that  I  dared  not  think  of  it.  I 
read  and  re-read  the  note  ;  misplaced  the 
stops  ;  canvassed  every  expression  ;  did  all 
to  detect  a  meaning  different  from  the 
obvious  one,  fearful  of  a  self-deception 
where  so  much  was  at  stake.  Yet  there  it 
stood  forth,  a  plain,  straighforward  proffer 
of  services,  for  some  object  evidently 
known  to  the  writer  ;  and  my  only  con- 
clusion, from  all,  was  this,  that  "my  Lord 
Callonby  was  the  gem  of  his  order,  and 
had  a  most  remarkable  talent  for  selecting 
a  son-in-law." 

I  fell  into  a  deep  reverie  upon  my  past 
life  and  the  prospects  which  I  now  felt 
were  opening  before  me.  Nothing  seemed 
extravagant  to  hopes  so  well  founded — to 
expectations  so  brilliant — and,  in  my 
mind's  eye,  I  beheld  myself  one  moment 
leading  my  young  and  beautiful  bride 
through  the  crowded  salons  of  Devonshire 
House  ;  and,  at  the  next,  I  was  contem- 
plating the  excellence  and  perfection  of 
my  stud  arrangements  at  Melton,  for  1  re- 
solved not  to  give  up  hunting.     While  in 


HARRY  LORREQVICR. 


43 


this  pleasurable  exercise  of  my  fancy,  I 
was  removing  from  before  me  some  of  the 
breakfast  equipage,  or  as   1   then  believed 
it,  breaking  the  trees  into  better  groups 
upon  my  lawn,  I  was  once  more  brought 
to  the  world    and    its   dull  reality   by   the 
following  passage,  which  my  eve  fell  upon 
in  the  newspaper  before  me  :  "  We  under- 
stand   that  the  4 — tli   arc  daily  expecting 
the  route  for  Cork,  from  whence  they  are 
to  sail,  early   in    the    ensuing   month,  for 
Halifax,    to    relieve    (he   88th."      While    it 
did  not  take  a  moment's  consideration  to 
show  me  that  though  the  regiment  there 
mentioned  was  the  one  I  belonged   to,  1 
could  have  no  possible  interest  in  the  an- 
nouncement— it    never   coming    into  .my 
calculation  that  /should  submit  to  such 
expatriation — yet   it  gave    me  a  salutary 
warning  that  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost! 
in  making  my  application  for  leave,  which,  I 
onee  obtained,  I  should  have  ample  time  ■ 
to  manage  an  exchange  into  another  corps. 
The  wonderful  revolution  a  few  days  had 
effected  in  all  my  tastes  and  desires  did 
not   escape   me   at   this   moment.     But  a 
week  or  two  before,  and  I  should  have  re- 
garded an  order  for  foreign  service  as  any- 
thing  rather  than  unpleasant ;  now,   the 
thought  was  insupportable.     Then,  there 
would  have  been  some  charm  to  me  in  the 
very  novelty  of  the  locale,  and  the  indul- 
gence of  that  vagrant  spirit  I  have  ever  pos- 
sessed— for,    like   Justice    Woodcock,    "  I 
certainly  should  have  been  a  vagabond  if 
Providence  had  not  made  me  a  justice  of 
the  peace  " — now,  I  could   not  even  con- 
template the  thing  as  possible  ;  and  would 
actually  have  refused  the  command  of  a 
regiment,  if  the  condition  of  its  acceptance 
were  to  sail  for  the  colonics. 

Besides,  I  tried — and  how  ingenious  is 
self-deception — I  tried  to  find,  arguments 
in  support  of  my  determination  totally  dif- 
ferent from  the  reasons  which  governed 
me.  I  affected  to  fear  climate,  and  to 
dread  the  effect  of  the  tropics  upon  my 
health.  "It  may  do  very  well,"  thought 
I,  ufor  men  totally  destitute  of  better 
prospects,  with  neither  talent,  influence, 
nor  powerful  connection,  to  roast  their 
cheeks  at  Sierra  Leone,  or  suck  a  sugar- 
cane at  St.  Lucia.  But  that  you,  Harry 
Lorrequer,  should  waste  your  sweetness 
upon  planters'  daughters — that  have  only 
to  be  known  to  have  the  world  at  your 
feet!  The  thing  is  absurd,  and  not  to  be 
thought  of !  Yes/'  said  I,  half  aloud, 
"we  read  in  the  army  list  that  Major  A. 
is  appointed  to  the  50th,  and  Captain  B. 
to  the  12th  ;  but  how  much  more  near  the 
truth  would  it  be  to  say,  '  That  his  Majes- 


ty, in  consideration   of  the  distinguished 
services   of   the  one,   has  been  graciously 

pleased  to  appoint  him  to a  case  of  blue 

and  collapsed  cholera,  in  India  ;  and  a 
for  i  he  bravery  and  gallanl  conduct  of  I 
other,  in  his   late  affair  with  the  "  II" 

DOW-DALLAH      [N0IANS,"     ha-;     promoted 

him  to  th< yellow  fever  now  devasl 

ing  and  desolating  Jamaica?"     How  far 
my  zeal  for  the  Bcrvicc  might  have  carried 

me  on   this    point    I    know    not.  for   1    was 
speedily  aroused  from  my  musings  by  the 

loud  t  ramp  of  feet  upon  the  stairs,  and  the 
sound    of   many   well-known    voice-    of  my 
brother  officers,  who  were  coming  to  \ 
me. 

"So.  Harry,  my  hoy,"  said  the  fat  ma- 
jor, as  he  entered,  "  is  it  true  we  are  not  to 
have  the  pleasure  of  your  company  to  .Ja- 
maica this  time  ?" 

"  He  prefers  a  pale  face,  it  seems,  to  a 
black  one;  and  certainly,  with  thirty 
thousand  in  the  same  scale,  the  taste  is 
excusable." 

"But,  Lorrequer,"  said  a  third,  "we 
heard  that  you  had  canvassed  the  county 
on  the  Callonby  interest.  Why,  man. 
where  do  you  mean  to  pull  up  ?" 

"As  for  me,"  lisped  a  large-eyed,  white- 
haired  ensign  of  three  months'  standing, 
"I  think  it  devilish  hard  old  Carden  didn't 
send,  me  down  there,  too,  for  I  hear  there 
are  two  girls  in  the  family.  Eh,  Lorre- 
quer ?" 

Having,  with  all  that  peculiar  bashful- 
ness  such  occasions  arc  sure  to  elicit,  dis- 
claimed the  happiness  my  friends  so  clearly 
ascribed  to  me,  I  yet  pretty  plainly  let  it 
be  understood  that  the  more  brilliant  they 
supposed  my  present  prospects  to  be.  the 
more  near  were  they  to  estimate  them 
justly.  One  thing  certainly  gratified  me 
throughout.  All"  seemed  rejoiced  at  my 
good  fortune,  and  even  the  old  Scotch  pay- 
master made  no  more  caustic  remark  than 
that  he  "wad  na  wonder  if  the  duel's 
black  whiskers  wad  get  him  made  governor 
of  Stirling  Castle  before  he'd  dee." 

Should,  any  o\'  my.most  patient  listeners 
to  these  my  humble  "Confessions'*  won- 
der, cither  here  or  elsewhere,  upon  what 
very  slight  foundations  I  built  these  my 
••Chateaux  en  Espagne,"  I  have  only  one 
answer — "that  from  my  boyhood  1  have 
had  a  taste  for  florid  architecture,  and 
would  rather  have  put  up  with  any  incon- 
venience  of   ground,    than   not   build    at 

all."  ,    . 

As  it  was  growing  late,  I  hurriedly  bade 
adieu  to  my  friends,  and  hastened  to  Col- 
onel Cardeu's  quarters,  where  I  found  him 

waiting  for  me,  in  company  with  my  old 


44 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


friend,  Fitzgerald,  our  regimental  surgeon. 
Our  first  greetings  over,  the  colonel  drew 
me  aside  into  a  window,  and  said  that, 
from  certain  expressions  Lord  Callonby 
had  made  use  of — certain  hints  he  had 
dropped — he  was  perfectly  aware  of  the 
delicate  position  in  which  I  stood  with  re- 
spect to  his'lordship's  family.  "In  fact, 
my  dear  Lorrequer,"  he  continued,  "  with- 
out wishing  in  the  least  to  obtrude  myself 
upon  your  confidence,  I  must  yet  he  per- 
mitted to  say.  you  are  the  luckiest  fellow 
in  Europe,  and  I  most  sincerely  congratu- 
late you  on  the  prospect  before  you." 
"  But,     my     dear     colonel,     J      assure 

you " 

"  Well,  well,  there — not  a  word  more  ; 
don't  blush  now.  I  know  there  is  always  a 
kind  of  secrecy  thought  necessary  on  these 
occasions,  for  the  sake  of  other  parties;  so 
let  us  pass  to  your  plans.  From  what  I 
have  collected,  you  have  not  proposed  for- 
mally. But,  of  course,  you  desire  a  leave. 
You'll  not  quit  the  army,  I  trust;  no  ne- 
cessity for  that ;  such  influence  as  yours 
can  always  appoint  you  to  an  unattached 
commission." 

"  Once  more  let  me  protest,  sir,  that 
though  for  certain  reasons  most  desirous 
to  obtain  a  leave  of  absence,  I  have  not  the 

most  remote " 

"That's  right,  quite  right;  I  am  sin- 
cerely gratified  to  hear  you  say  so,  and  so 
will  be  Lord  Callonby  ;  for  he  likes  the 
service." 

And  thus  was  my  last  effort  at  a  dis- 
claimer cut  short  by  the  loquacious  little 
colonel,  who  regarded  my  unfinished  sen- 
tence as  a  concurrence  with  his  own  opin- 
ion. 

"  Allah  il  Allah,"  thought  I,  "it  is  my 
Lord  Callonby's  own  plot  ;  and  his  friend 
Colonel  Garden  aids  and  abets  him." 

"  Now,  Lorrequer,"  resumed  the  colonel, 
"let  us  proceed.  You  have,  of  course, 
heard  that  Ave  are  ordered  abroad  ;  mere 
newspaper  report  for  the  present,  never- 
theless, it  is  extremely  difficult — almost 
impossible — without  a  sick  certificate,  to 
obtain  a  leave  sufficiently  long  for  your 
purpose. " 

And  here  he  smirked,  and  I  blushed,  se- 
lon  les  regies. 

"  A  sick  certificate,"  said  I,  in  some  sur- 
prise. 

"The  only  thing  for  you,"  said  Fitzger- 
ald, taking  a  long  pinch  of  snuff  ;  "  and  I 
grieve  to  say  you  have  a  most  villanous 
look  of  good  health  about  you." 

"I  must  acknowledge  I  have  seldom  felt 
better." 

"  So   much    the    worse — so    much    the 


worse,"  said  Fitzgerald,  despondingly.  "  Is 
there  no  family  complaint  ;  no  respectable 
heirloom  of  infirmity  you  can  lay  claim  to 
from  your  kindred  ?  " 

"  None  that  I  know  of,  unless  a  very  ac- 
tive performance  on  the  several  occasions 
of  breakfast,  dinner,  and  supper,  with  a 
tendency  towards  port,  and  an  inclination 
to  sleep  ten  in  every  twenty-four  hours,  be 
a  sign  of  sickness.  These  symptoms  I 
have  known  many  of  the  family  suffer  for 
years  without  the  slighest  alleviation, 
though,  strange  as  it  may  appear,  they  oc- 
casionally had  medical  advice." 

Fitz  took  no  notice  of  my  sneer  at  the 
faculty,  but  proceeded  to  strike  my  chest 
several  times  with  his  finger  tips.  "  Try 
a  short  cough,  now,"  said  he,  "Ah,  that 
will  never  do  !  Do  you  ever  flush — before 
dinner,  I  mean  ?" 

"  Occasionally,  when  I  meet  with  a 
luncheon." 

"I'm  fairly  puzzled,"  said  poor  Fitz, 
throwing  himself  into  a  chajr.  "  Gout  is 
a  very  good  thing  ;  but  then  you  see  you 
are  only  a  sub.,  and  it  is  clearly  against 
the  articles  of  war  to  have  it  before  being 
a  field  officer  at  least.  Apoplexy  is  the 
best  I  can  clo  for  you,  and,  to  say  the 
truth,  any  one  who  witnesses  your  per- 
formance at  mess  may  put  faith  in  the  like- 
lihood of  it.  Do  you  think  you  could  get 
up  a  fit  for  the  medical  board?  "  said  Fitz, 
gravely. 

"  Why,  if  absolutely  indispensable," 
said  I,  "  and  with  good  instruction — some- 
thing this  way.     Eh,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind — you  are  quite 
wrong." 

"is  there  not  always  a  little  laughing 
and  crying  ?"  said  I. 

"  Oh  no,  no  ;  take  the  cue  from  the  pay- 
master any  evening  after  mess,  and  you'll 
make  no  mistake — very  florid  about  the 
cheeks  ;  rather  a  lazy  look  in  one  eye,  the 
other  closed  up  entirely ;  snore  a  little 
from  time  to  time,  and  don't  be  too  much 
disposed  to  talk." 

'•  And  you  think  I  may  pass  muster  in 
this  way?" 

"  Indeed  you  may,  if  old  Camie,  the  in- 
spector, happen  to  be  (what  he  is  not  often  ) 
in  a  good  humor.  But  I  confess  I'd. 
rather  you  were  really  ill,  for  we've  passed 
a  great  number  of  counterfeits  latterly, 
anil  wre  may  be  all  pulled  up  ere  long." 

"  Not  the  less  grateful  for  your  kind- 
ness," said  I ;  "but  still  I'd  rather  matters 
stood  as  they  do." 

Having  at  length  obtained  a  very  for- 
midable statement  of  my"  case  "  from  the 
doctor,  and  a  strong  letter  from  the  colonel, 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


deploring  the  temporary  loss  of  so  promis- 
mga  young  officer,  I  committed  myself  and 
my  portmanteau  to  the  inside  of  his  Maj- 
esty's mail,  and  started  for  Dublin  wit  1 1  as 
light  a  heart  and  high  spirits  as  were  con- 
sistent with  so  much  delicacy  of  health  and 
the  directions  of  my  doctor. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE     ROAD — TRAVELING   ACQUAINTANCES — A    PACKET 

ADVENTURE. 

I  shall  not  stop  now  to  narrate  the 
particulars  of  my  visit  to  the  worthies  of 
the  medical  board  ;  the  rather,  as  some  of 
my  "Confessions  to  come'"  have  reference 
to  Dublin,  and  many  of  those  that  dwell 
therein.  I  shall,  therefore,  content  myself 
here  with  stating,  that  without  any  diffi- 
culty I  obtained  a  six  months'  leave,  and 
having  received  much  advice  and  more 
sympathy  from  many  members  of  that 
body,  took  a  respectful  leave  of  them,  and 
adjourned  to  Hilton's,  where  I  had  ordered 
dinner,  and  (as  I  was  advised  to  live  low) 
a  bottle  of  Sneyd's  claret.  My  hours  in 
Dublin  were  numbered  ;  at  eight  o'clock 
on  the  evening  of  my  arrival  I  hastened  to 
the  Pigeon  House  pier,  to  take  my  berth 
in  the  packet  for  Liverpool  ;  and  here, 
gentle  reader,  let  me  implore  you,  if  you 
have  bowels'of  compassion,  to  commiserate 
the  condition  of  a  sorry  mortal  like  my- 
self. In  the  days  of  which  I  now  speak, 
steam-packets  were  not— men  knew  not 
then  of  the  pleasure  of  going  to  a  comfort- 
able bed  in  Kingstown  harbor,  and  waking 
on  the  morning  after  in  the  Clarence  dock 
at  Liverpool,  with  only  the  addition  of  a 
little  sharper  appetite  for  breakfast,  before 
they  set  out  on  an  excursion  of  forty  miles 
per  hour  through  the  air 

In  the  time  I  have  now  to  commemor- 
ate, the  intercourse  .between  the  two  coun- 
tries was  maintained  by  two  sailing  vessels 
of  small  tonnage  and  still  scantier  accom- 
modation. Of  the  one  now  in  question  I 
well  recollect  the  name— she  was  called 
the  "'  Alert,"  and  certainly  a  more  unfor- 
tunate misnomer  could  scarcely'  be  con- 
ceived. Well,  there  was  no  choice  ;  so  I 
took  my  place  upon  the  crowded  deck  of 
the  little  craft,  and,  in  a  drizzling  shower 
of  chilly  rain,  and  amid  more  noise,  confu- 
sion, and  bustle  than  would  prelude  the 
launch  of  a  line-of-battle  ship,  Ave  "si- 
dled," goose-fashion,  from  the  shore,  and 
began  our  voyage  towards  England. 

It  is  not  my  intention,  in  the  present 


3tage  of  "  my  Coni essions, "  to  deiay  on  the 
road  towards  an  event  which  influenced  bo 
powerfully,  and  so  permanently,  my  after- 
life; yet  I  cannot  refrain  from  chronicling 
a  slight  incident  winch  occurred  on  board 
the  packet,  and  which,  I  have  no  doubt, 
may  be  remembered  by  some  of  I  hot 
throw  i  heir  eyes  on  these  pag<  -. 

One  of  my  fellow-passengi  rs  was  s  '_r,'n- 
tlcman  holding- a.  high  official  appointment 
in  the  viceregal  court,  either  comptroller 
of  the  household,  master  of  the  horse,  or 
something  else  equally  magnificent  ;  how- 
ever, whatever  the  nature  of  the  situation, 
one  thing  is  certain — one  possessed  of  more 
courtly  manners  and  more  polished  address 
cannot  be  conceived,  to  which  he  added  all 
the  attractions  of  a  very  handsome  p 
and  a  most  preposs<  -  ng  countenance. 
The  only  thing  the  mosl  scrupulous  critic 
could  possibly  detect  as  faulty  in  his  whole 
air  and  hearing,  was  a  certain  ultra  refine- 
ment and  fastidiousness,  which  in  a  man 
of  acknowledged  family  and  connections 
was  somewhat  unaccountable,  and  certain- 
ly unnecessary.  The  fastidiousness  I  speak 
of  extended  to  everything  round  and  about 
him;  he  never  ate  of  the  wrong  dish  nor 
spoke  to  the  wrong  man  in  his  life,  and 
that  very  consciousness  gave  him  a  kind  of 
horror  of  chance  acquaintances,  which 
made  him  shrink  within  himself  from  per- 
sons in  every  respect  his  equals.  Those 
who  knew  Sir  Stewart  Moore,  will  know  I 
do  not  exaggerate  in  either  my  praise  or 
censure,  and  to  those  who  have  not  had 
that  pleasure,  I  have  only  to  say,  theirs 
was  the  loss,  and  they  must  take  my  word 
for  the  facts. 

The  very  antithesis  to  the  person  just 
mentioned  was  another  passenger  then  on 
board.  She — for  even  in  sex  they  were 
different — she  Avas  a  short,  squat,  red- 
faced,  vulgar-looking  woman,  of  about 
fifty,  possessed  of  a  most  garrulous  tend- 
ency, and  talking  indiscriminately  with 
every  one  about  her,  careless  what  recep- 
tion her  addresses  met  with,  and  quite 
indifferent  to  the  many  rebuffs  she  mo- 
mentarily encountered.  To  me,  by  what 
impulse  driven  Heaven  knows,  this  amor- 
phous piece  of  womanhood  seemed  deter- 
mined to  attach  herself.  Whether  in  the 
smoky  and  almost  impenetrable  recesses  of 
the  cabin,  or  braving  the  cold  and  pene- 
trating rain  upon  deck,  it  mattered  not, 
she  was  ever  at  my  side,  and  not  only 
martyring  me  by  the  insufferable  annoy- 
ance of  her  vulgar  loquacity,  but  actually, 
from  the  appearance  of  acquaintanceship 
such  constant  association  gave  rise  to, 
frightening  any  one  else  from  conversing 


46 


CHARLES  LAYER'S   WORKS. 


with  me,  and  rendering  me,  ere  many 
hours,  u  perfect  Pariah  among  the  passen- 
gers. By  no  one  were  we — for,  alas  !  we 
had  become  Siamese — so  thoroughly  dread- 
ed as  by  the  refined  baronet  I  have  men- 
tioned; lie  appeared  to  shrink  from  our 
very  approach,  and  avoided  ns  as  though 
we  had  the  plagues  of  Egypt  about  us.  I 
saw  this — I  felt  it  deeply,  and  as  deeply 
and  resolutely  I  vowed  to  be  revenged, 
and  the  time  Avas  not  long  distant  in  af- 
fording me  the  opportunity. 

The  interesting  Mrs.  Mulrooney,  for 
such  was  my  fair  companion  called,  was 
on  the  present  occasion  making  her  dchul 
on  what  she  was  pleased  to  call  the 
•''says  :  "  she  was  proceeding  to  the  Liver- 
pool market  as  proprietor  and  supercargo 
over  some  legion  of  swine  that  occupied 
the  hold  of  the  vessel,  and  whose  melliflu- 
ous tones  were  occasionally  heard  in  all 
parts  of  the  ship.  Having  informed  me 
on  these,  together  with  some  circumstances 
of  her  birth  and  parentage,  she  proceeded 
to  narrate  some  of  the  cautions  given  by 
her  friends  as  to  her  safety  when  making 
such  a  long  voyage,  and  also  to  detail 
some  of  the  anti-septics  to  that  dread 
scourge,  sea-sickness,  in  the  fear  and  ter- 
ror of  which  she  had  come  on  board,  and 
seemed  every  hour  to  be  increasing  in 
alarm  about. 

"Do  you  think  then,  sir,  that  pork  is 
no  good  agin  the  sickness  ?  Mickey,  that's 
my  husband,  sir — says  it's  the  only  thing 
in  life  for  it,  av  it's  toasted." 

"  Not  the  least  use,  I  assure  you." 

"Nor  sperits  and  walker?" 

'•  Worse  and  worse,  ma'am." 

"  Oh,  thin,  maybe  oaten  mail  tay  would 
do  ?  It's  a  beautiful  thing  for  the  stom- 
ick,  any  how." 

"  Rank  poison  on  the  present  occasion, 
believe  me." 

•     "Oh,  then,  blessed  Mary,  what  am  I  to 
do — what  is  to  become  of  me  ?" 

"  Go  clown  at  once  to  your  berth,  ma'am; 
lie  still  and  without  speaking  till  we  conic 
in  sight  of  land  ;  or," — and  here  a  bright 
thought  seized  me — "if  you  really  feel 
very  ill,  call  for  that  man  there,  with  the 
fur  collar  on  his  coat ;  he  can  give,  you  the 
only  thing  I  ever  knew  of  any  efficacy; 
he's  the  steward,  ma'am.  Stewart  Moore  ; 
but  you  must  be  on  your  guard,  too,  as 
you  are  a  stranger,  for  lie's  a  conceited 
fellow,  and  has  saved  a  trifle,  and  sets 
up  for  a  half  gentleman  ;  so  don't  be  sur- 
prised at  his  manner;  though,  after  all, 
you  may  find  him  very  different;  some 
people,  I've  heard,  think  him  extremely 
civil." 


"And  lie  has  a  cure,  ye  say  ?" 

"  The  only  one  I  ever  heard  of  ;  it  is  a 
little  cordial,  of  which  you  take,  1  don't 
know  how  much,  every  ten  or  fifteen  min- 
utes." 

"  And  the  navgur  doesn't  let  the  saycret 
but,  bad  manners  to  him  ? " 

"No.  ma'am  ;  he  has  refused  every  offer 
on  the  subject." 

"  May  I  be  so  bowld  as  to  ax  his  name- 
again  ?" 

"Stewart  Moore,  ma'am.  Moore  is  the 
name,  but  people  always  call  him  Stewart 
Moore  ;  just  say  that  in  a  loud,  clear 
voice,  and  you'll  soon  have  him." 

With  the  most  profuse  protestations  of 
gratitude  and  promises  of  pork  a  discre- 
tion, if  ever  I  sojourned  at  Ballinasloe,  my 
fair  friend  proceeded  to  follow  my  advice, 
and  descended  to  the  cabin. 

Some  hours  after,  I  also  betook  myself 
to  my  rest,  from  which,  however,  towards 
midnight,  I  was  awoke  by  the  heavy  work- 
ing and  pitching  of  the  little  vessel,  as  she 
labored  in  a  rough  sea.  As  I  looked  forth 
from  my  narrow  crib,  a  more  woebegone 
picture  can  scarcely  be  imagined  than  that 
before  me.  Here  and  there  through  the 
gloomy  cabin  lay  the  victims  of  the  fell 
malady,  in  every  stage  of  suffering,  and  in 
every  attitude  of  misery.  Their  cries  and 
lamentings  mingled  with  the  creaking 
of  the  bulkheads  and  the  jarring  twang 
of  the  dirty  lam  p.  whose  irregular  swing  told 
plainly  how  oscillatory  was  our  present 
motion.  I  turned  myself  from  the  un- 
pleasant sight,  and  was  about  again  to  ad- 
dress myself  to  slumber  with  what  success 
I  might,  when  I  started  at  the  sound  of  a 
voice  in  the  very  berth  next  to  me,  whose 
tones,  once  heard,  there  was  no  forgetting. 
The  words  ran,  as  nearly  as  I  can  recol- 
lect, thus  : — 

"  Oh,  then,  bad  luck  to  ye  for  pigs,  that 
ever  brought  me  into  the  like  of  this.  Oh, 
Lord,  there  it  is  again."  And  here  a  slight 
interruption  to  eloquence  took  place,  dur- 
ing which  I  was  enabled  to  reflect  upon  the 
author  of  the  complaint,  who,  I  need  not 
say,  was  Mrs.  Mulrooney. 

"  I  think  a  little  tay  would  settle  my 
stomick,  if  I  only  could  get  it  :  but  what's 
the  use  of  talking  in  this  horrid  place  ? 
They  nevermind  me  no  more  than  if  I  was 
a  pig.  Steward,  steward  !— oh,  then,  its 
wishing  you  well  1  am  for  a  steward. 
Steward,  I  say  !"  and  this  she  really  did 
say,  with  an  energy  of  voice  and  manner 
thai  startled  more  than  one  sleeper.  "Oh, 
you're  coming  at  last,  steward." 

"  Ma'am,"  said  a  little  dapper  and  dirty 
personage  in  a  bluejacket,  with  a  greasy 


HARRY  LORBEQUER. 


i: 


napkin  negligently  thrown  over  .one  arm 
fficio,  "  ma'am,  did  yon  call  ? " 
"Call  ! — is  it  call  ?  No;  but  I'm  roar- 
ing for  you  this  half-hour.  Come  here. 
Have  you  any  of  the  cordial  dhrops  agin 
the  sickness  ?  -yon  know  what  I  mean." 
"  Is  it  brandy,  ma'am  ? 
No.  it  isn'i  brandy, 


blood  rushing  to  her  face  and  temp 
-he  3poke  for  I  he  Bame  reason  ae  her  fuir 
townswoman  is  reported  to  have  borne 
with  stoical  fortitude  every  harsh  epithet 
of  the  language,  until  it,  occurred  to  hi  r op- 
ponent to  tell  her  thai  "  I  he  di\  il  a  bit 
better  Bhe  was  dot  a  pronoun  ;"  so  Mr-\ 
Mulrooney,    taking  "omne    ignotum   pro 


"We  have  got  gin,  ma'am,  and  bottled   horribile,     became  perfectly  beside  herself 


porter — cider,  ma'am,  if  you  like." 

"Agh,  no  !  surel  want,  the  dhrops  agin 

the  sickness.'* 

"Don't  know,  indeed,  ma'am." 

"Ah,  you  stupid  creature!  Maybe 
you're  not  the  real  steward.  What's  your 
name  ?" 

"  Smith,  ma'am." 

"Ah,  I  thought  so.  Go  away,  man,  go 
away." 

This  injunction,  given  in  a  diminuendo 
cadence,  was  quickly  obeyed,  and  all  was 
silence  for  a  moment  or  two.  Once  more 
was  I  dropping  asleep,  when  the  same 
voice  as  before  burst  out  with — 

"  Am  I  to  die  here  like  a  haythen,  and 
nohody  to  come  near  me  ?  Steward  !  stew- 
ard !  steward  Moore.  I  say." 

••  Who  calls  me?"  said  a  deep  sonorous 
voice  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  cabin, 
while  at  the  same  instant  a  tall  green  silk 
nightcap,  surmounting  a  very  aristocratic- 
looking  forehead,  appeared  between  the 
curtains  of  the  opposite  berth, 


at  the  unlucky  phrase.      •"  I'm  wluit  ?      |,\ 

paie  ii  ;n  ye  dare,  and  I  II  tear  yer  eyes  out  ! 
Ye  dirty  bla—  guard,  to  be  lying  there  at 
yer  ease  under  the  blankets,  grinning  al 
me.     What's  yourthrad< — answer  m 

— av  it  isn't  to  wait  on  the  ladies,  eh  ':'' 

"Oh,  the  woman  must  be  mad,"  said 
Sir  Steward. 

"The  devil  a  taste  mad,  my  dear — I'm 
only  sick.     Now  just  come  over  to  me  like 
a  decent  creat  nre,  and  give  me  thedhrop  of 
comfort  ye  have.     Come,  avick." 
"  Go  over  to  you  ?" 

"Ay,  ami  why  not  ?  Or,  if  it's  so  lazy 
ye  are.  why  then  I'll  thryand  cross  overt© 
your  side." 

These  words  being  accompanied  by  a 
certain  indication  of  change  of  residence 
on  the  part  of  Airs.  Mulrooney,  8ir  Stewart 
perceived  there  was  no  time  to  lose,  and 
springing  from  his  berth,  he  rushed  half- 
dressed  through  the  cabin  and  up  the  com- 
panion-ladder, jusi  as  Mrs.  Mulrooney  had 
protruded  a  pair  of  enormous  legs  from  her 
"Steward  Moore  !"  said  the  lady  again,   conch,  and  hung  for  a  moment   pendulous 


with  her  eyes  straining  in  the  direction  of 
the  door  by  which  she  expected  him  to 
enter. 

"This  is  most  strange."  muttered  the 
baronet,  half  aloud.  "  Why,  madam,  you 
are  calling  me!  " 

"And  "if  I  am,"  said  Mrs.  Mulrooney, 
"and  if  ye  hcerd  me,  have  ye  no  manners 
to  answer  your  name,  eh  ?  Are  ye  Steward 
Moore  ?  " 

"Upon  my  life,  ma'am,  I  thought  so 
last  night  when  I  came  on  board  !  but  you 
really  have  contrived  to  make  me  doubt 
my  own  identity." 

"And  is  it  there  ye're  lying  on  the  broad 
of  yer  back,  and  me  as  sick  as  a  dog  for- 
nent  ye  ?  " 

"  I  concede,  ma'am,  the  fact  ;  the  posi- 
tion is  a  most  irksome  one  on  every  ac- 
count." 

"Then  why  don't  ye  come  over  to  me  ?" 
And  this  Mrs.  Mulrooney  said  with  a  voice 
of  something  like  tenderness — wishing  at 
all  hazards  to  conciliate  so  important  a 
functionary. 

"  Why,  really,  you  are  the  most  incom- 
prehensible person  I  ever  met." 

"I'm  what?"  said  Mrs  Mulroonev,  her 


before  she  dropped  upon  the  floor  and 
followed  him  to  the  deck.  A  tremendous 
shout  of  laughter  from  the  sailors  and  deck 
passengers  prevented  my  hearing  the  dia- 
logue which  ensued  ;  nor  do  I  yet  know 
how  Mrs.  Mulrooney  learned  her  mistake. 
Certain  it  is,  she  no  more  appeared 
amongst  the  passengers  in  the  cabin,  and 
Sir  Steward's  manner  the  following  morn- 
ing at  breakfast  amply  satisfied  me  that  I 
had  my  revenge. 


CHAPTER    X. 


UPSET — MIND — AXD   BODY. 


Xo  sooner  in  Liverpool,  than  I  hastened 

to  take  my  place  in  the  earliest  conveyance 
for  London.  At  that  time  the  Umpire 
coach  was  the  perfection  of  fast  traveling: 
and,  seated  behind  the  box,  enveloped  in  a 
sufficiency  of  broadcloth,  I  turned  my 
face  towards  town  with  as  much  anxiety 
and  as  ardent  expectations  as  most  of  those 
about  me.  All  went  on  in  the  regular 
monotonous  routine  of  such  matters  until 


48 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


we  reached  Northampton,  passing  down 
the  steep  street  of  which  (own.  the  near 
wheel-horse  stumbled  and  fell  ;  the  coach, 

after  a  tremendous  roll  to  one  side,  toppled 
over  on  the  other,  and  with  a  tremendous 
crash,  and  sudden  shock,  sent  all  the  out- 
sides,  myself  among  the  number,  flying 
through  the  air  like  sea-gulls.  As  for  me. 
after  describing  a  very  respectable  parabola, 
my  angle  of  incidence  landed  me  in  a  bon- 
net-maker's shop,  having  passed  through  a 
large  plate-glass  window,  and  destroyed 
more  leghorns  and  dunstables  than  a  year's 
pay  would  recompense.  1  have  but  slight 
recollection  of  the  details  of  that  occasion, 
until  I  found  myself  lying  in  a  very  spa- 
cious bed  at  the  George  Inn,  having  been 
bled  in  both  arms,  and  discovering  by  the 
multitude  of  bandages  in  which  I  was  en- 
veloped, that  at  least  some  of  my  bones 
were  broken  by  the  fall.  That  such  fate 
had  befallen  my  collar-bone  and  three  of 
my  ribs,  I  soon  learned;  and  was  horror- 
struck  at  hearing  from  the  surgeon  who 
attended  me  that  four  or  live  weeks  would 
be  the  very  earliest  period  I  could  bear  re- 
moval with  safety.  Here  then  at  once 
there  was  a  large  deduction  from  my  six 
months'  leave,  not  to  think  of  the  misery 
that  awaited  me  for  such  a  time,  confined 
to  my  bed  in  an  inn,  without  books,  friends, 
or  acquaintances.  However,  even  this 
could  be  remedied  by  patience,  and  sum- 
moning up  all  I  could  command,  1  ''bided 
my  time,"  but  not  before  I  had  completed 
a  term  of  two  months'  imprisonment,  and 
had  become,  from  actual  starvation,  some- 
thing very  like  a  living  transparency. 

No  sooner  however,  did  I  feel  myself 
once  more  on  the  road,  than  my  spirits 
rose,  and  I  felt  myself  as  full  of  high  hope 
and  buoyant  expectancy  as  ever.  It  was 
late  at  night  when  I  arrived  in  London.  I 
drove  to  a  quiet  hotel  in  the  West-end  ; 
and  the  following  morning  proceeded  to 
Portman-square,  bursting  with  impatience 
to  see  my  friends  the  Callonbys,  and  re- 
count all  my  adventures— for  as  I  was  too 
ill  to  write  from  Northampton,  and  did 
not  wish  to  entrust  to  a  stranger  the  office 
of  communicating  with  them,  I  judged 
that  they  must  be  exceedingly  uneasy  on 
my  account,  and  pictured  to  myself  the 
thousand  emotions  my  appearance  so  in- 
dicative of  illness  would  give  rise  to,  and 
could  scarcely  avoid  running  in  my  impa- 
tience to  be  once  more  among  them.  How 
Lady  Jane  would  meet  me,  I  thought  of 
over  again  and  again;  whether  the  same 
cautious  reserve  awaited  me,  or  whether 
her  family's  approval  would  have  wrought 
a  change  in  her  reception  of  me,  I  burned 


to  ascertain.  As  my  thoughts  ran  on  in 
this  way,  I  found  myself  at  the  door  ;  but 
was  much  alarmed  to  perceive  that  the 
closed  window-shutters  and  dismantled 
look  of  the  house  proclaimed  them  from 
home.  I  rang  the  bell,  and  soon  learned 
from  a  servant,  whose  face  I  had  not  seen 
before,  that  the  family  had  gone  to  Paris 
about  a  month  before,  with  the  intention 
of  spending  the  winter  there.  I  need  not 
say  how  grievously  this  piece  of  intelli- 
gence disappointed  me,  and  for  a  minute 
or  two  I  could  not  collect  my  thoughts.  At 
last  the  servant  said, — 

'■  If  you  have  anything  very  particular, 
sir,  that  my  lord's  lawyer  can  do,  I  can 
give  you  his  address." 

"  No,  thank  you — nothing  ;"  at  the  same 
time  I  muttered  to  myself,  "I'll  have  some 
occupation  for  him  though,  ere  long. 
The  family  were  all  quite  well,  didn't  von 

"  Yes,  sir,  perfectly  well.  My  lord  had 
only  a  slight  cold." 

"Ah — yes — and  their  address  is  'Men- 
rice  : '  very  well." 

So  saying.  I  turned  from  the  door,  and 
with  slower  steps  than  I  had  come,  re- 
turned to  my  hotel. 

My  immediate  resolve  was  to  set  out  for 
Paris  ;  my  second  was  to  visit  my  uncle. 
Sir  Guy  Lorrequcr,  first,  and,  having  ex- 
plained to  him  the  nature  of  my  position 
and  the  advantageous  prospects  before  me, 
endeavor  to  induce  him  to  make  some  set- 
tlement on  Lady  Jane,  in  the  event  of  my 
obtaining  her  family's  consent  to  our  mar- 
riage. This,  from  his  liking  great  people 
much,  and  laying  great  stress  upon  the  ad- 
vantages of  connection,  I  looked  upon  as  a 
matter  of  no  great  difficulty  ;  so  that,  al- 
though my  hopes  of  happiness  were  de- 
layed in  their  fulfilment,  I  believed  they 
were  only  to  be  the  more  securely  realized. 
The  same  day  I  set  out  for  Elton,  and  by 
ten  o'clock  at  night  reached  my  uncle's 
house.  I  found  the  old  gentleman  just  as 
I  had  left  him  three  years  before,  com- 
plaining a  little  of  gout  in  the  left  foot — 
praising  his  old  specific,  port  wine — abus- 
ing his  servants  for  robbing  him — and 
drinking  the  Duke  of  Wellington's  health 
every  night  after  supper;  which  meal  I 
had  much  pleasure  in  surprising  him  at  on 
my  arrival — not  having  eaten  since  my  de- 
parture from  London. 

"Well  Harry,"  said  my  uncle,  when  the 
servants  had  left  the  room,  and  we  drew 
over  the  spider  table  to  the  fire  to  discuss 
our  Avine  with  comfort,  "  what  good  wind 
has  blown  you  down  to  me,  my  boy  ?  for 
it's    odd    enough,   five    minutes    befov?    I 


HA  RR  Y  L  ORREQ  UER. 


49 


heard  the  wheels  on  the  gravel  I  was  just 
wishing  some  good  fellow  would  join  mo 
at  the  grouse — and  yon  see  I  have  had  my 
wish  !  The  old  story,  I  suppose,  '  out  of 
cash.'  Would  not  conic  down  here  for 
nothing — eh  ?  Come,  lad,  tell  truth  ;  is  it 
DOi    SO  ?  " 

"  Why,  not  exactly,  sir  :  but  I  really  had 
rather  at  present  talk  aboutyou  than  about 

my  own  matters,  which  we  can  chat  over 
to-morrow.  How  do  you  get  on,  sir,  with 
the  Scotch  Stewart?" 

"He's  :i  rogue,  sir — a  cheat — a  scoun- 
drel ;  but  it  is  the  same  with  them  all  ;  and 
your  cousin,  Harry — your  cousin,  that  f 
have  reared  from  his  infancy  to  be  my  heir 
(pleasant  topic  for  me!) — he  cares  no  more 
for  mi;  than  the  rest  of  them,  aim  would 
never  come  near  me.  if  it  were  not,  that, 
like  yourself,  he  was  hard  run  for  money, 
and  wanted  to  wheedle  me  out  of  a,  hun- 
dred or  two." 

"  But  you  forget,  sir  ;  I  told  you  I  have 
not  come  with  such  an  object." 

"•  We'll  see  that,  we'll  see  that  in  the 
morning,'"  replied  he,  with  an  incredulous 
shake  of  the  head. 

"  But  Guv.  sir — what  has  Guy  done  ?" 

"  What  lias  he  not  done  ?  No  sooner 
did  he  join  that  popinjay  set  of  fellows, 
the — th  hussars,  than  he  turned  out  what 
he  calls  a  four-in-hand  drag,  which  dragged 
nine  hundred  pounds  out  of  my  pocket. 
Then  he  has  got  a  yacht  at  ('owes — a 
grouse  mountain  in  Scotland — and  has  ac- 
tually given  Tattersall  an  unlimited  order 
to  purchase  the  Wreck iiigton  pack  of  har- 
riers, which  he  intends  to  keep  for  the  use 
of  the  corps.  In  a  word,  there  is  not  an 
amusement  of  that  villanous  regiment,  not 
a  flask  of  champagne  drunk  at  their  mess, 
I  don't  bear  my  share  in  the  cost  of  ;  all 
through  the  kind  offices  of  your  worthy 
cousin,  Guy  Lorrequer." 

This  was  an  exceedingly  pleasant  expose 
for  mte,  to  hear  of  my  cousin  indulged  in 
every  excess  of  foolish  extravagance  by  his 
rich  uncle,  while  I,  the  son  of  an  elder 
brother,  who  unfortunately  called  me  by  his 
own  name,  Harry,  remained  the  sub.  in  a 
marching  regiment,  with  not  three  hun- 
dred pounds  a  year  above  my  pay,  and 
whom  any  extravagance,  if  such  had  been 
proved  against  me,  would  have  deprived  of 
even  that  small  allowance.  My  uncle, 
however,  did  not  notice  the  chagrin  with 
which  I  heard  his  narrative,  but  continued 
to  detail  various  instances  of  wild  and 
reckless  expense  the  future  possessor  of  his 
ample  property  had  already  launched  into. 

Anxious  to  say  something,  without  well 
knowing  what,  1  hinted  that  probably  my 


good  cousin  would   reform  some  of  ti 
days,  and  marry. 

"  Marrj  !  "  --aid  my  nncl<  - .    hel  T 

believe   is  the   L -,-t    I  hing   ■      can  do  wh  a 
him;  and    1    hope   now   the   matter  is    m 
good    t  rain — so  the  lab 
lea  t." 

"  Ah,  indeed  ! "  said  I.  endeavoring  f'. 
take  an  interesl  where  1  really  felt  d< 
for  my  cousin  and  I  had  never  been  very 
intimate  friends,  and  the  difference  in  our 
fortunes  had  not.  at  least  to  my  thinking. 
been  compensated  by  any  advances  which 
he,  uinh  r   the   circumsta  i 1 1  have 

made  to  me. 

•'  Why,  Harry,  did  you  not  hear  of  it  ?" 
said  my  uncle. 

••  No  ;  not  a  word,  sir." 

"Very  strange,  indeed — a  great  match, 
Harry — a,  very  great  match,  indeed." 

••  Some  rich  banker's  daughter,"  thought 
T.   '"'What  will  he. say  when  he  hears 
fortune  ?  " 

••  A  very  Tine  young  woman,  too,  I  un- 
derstand— quite  the  telle  of  London — and 
a  splendid  property  left  by  an  aunt." 

I  was  bursting  to  tell  him  of  my  affair, 
ami  that  he  had  another  nephew,  to 
whom,  if  common  justice  were  rendered, 
his  fortune  was  as  certainly  made  for  life. 

"Guy's  business  happened  this  way,'" 
continued  my  uncle,  who  was  quite  •  n 
grossed  by  the  thought  of  his  favorite's 
success.  k'The  father  of  the  young  lady 
met  him  in  Ireland,  or  Scotland,  or  some- 
such  place,  where  he  was  with  his  regiment 
— was  greatly  struck  with  his  manner  and 
address — found  him  out  to  he  my  nephew 
— asked  him  to  his  house — and,  in  fact, 
almost  threw  this  lovely  girl  at  his  head 
before  they  were  two  months  acquainted." 

'•  As  nearly  as  possible  my  own  adven- 
ture," thought  I,  laughing  to  myself. 

•■  But  you  have  not  told  me  who  they 
are,  sir,"  said  I,  dying  to  have  his  story 
finished,  and  to  begin  mine. 

"I'm  coming  to  that— I'm  coming  to 
that.  Guy  came  down  here,  but  did  not 
tell  me  one  word  of  bis  having  ever  n 
the  family,  but  begged  of  me  to  give  him 
an  introduction  to  them,  as  they  were  in 
Paris,  where  he  was  going  on  a  short  leave, 
and  the  first  thing  I  heard  of  the  ma 
was  by  a  letter  from  the  papa,  demanding 
from  'me  if  Guy  was  to  ho  my  heir,  and 
asking  'how  far  his  attentions  in  his  fam- 
ily met  with  my  approval.' " 

"  Then  how  did  you  know,  sir,  that  they 
were  previously  known  to  each  other  ': 

"  The  family  lawyer  told  me,  who  heard 
it  all  talked  over." 

•;  And  why,  then,  did  Guy  get  the  letter 


50 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


of  introduction  from  you,  when  he  was  al- 
ready acquainted  with  them  ?" 

"I  am  sure  I  cannot  tell,  except  that 
you  know  he  always  docs  everything  unlike 
every  one  else,  and  to  be  sure  the  letter 
seems  to  have  excited  some  amusement. 
I  must  show  you  his  answer  to  my  first 
note  to  know  how  all  was  going  on — for  I 
felt  very  anxious  about  matters — when  1 
heard  from  some  person  who  had  met 
them,  that  Guy  was  everlastingly  in  the 
house,  and  that  Lord  Callonby  could  not 
live  without  him." 

"Lord,  who,  sir?"  said  I,  in  a  voice 
that  made  the  old  man  upset  his  glass,  and 
spring  from  his  chair  in  horror. 

"  What  the  devil  is  the  matter  with  the 
boy  ?     What  makes  you  so  pale  ?  " 

"Whose  name  did  you  say  at  that  mo- 
ment, sir  ? "  said  I,  with  a  slowness  of 
speech  that  cost  me  agony. 

"  Lord  Callonby,  my.  old  schoolfellow 
and  fag  at  Eton." 

"And  the  lady's  name,  sir?"  said  I,  in 
scarcely  an  audible  whisper. 

"  I'm  sure  I  forgot  her  name  ;  but  here's 
the  letter  from  Guy,  and  I  think  he  men- 
tions her. name  in  the  postscript." 

I  snatched  rudely  the  half-opened  letter 
from  the  old  man,  as  he  was  vainly  endea- 
voring to  detect  the  place  he  wanted,  and 
read  as  follows  : — ■ 

"  My  adored  Jane  is  all  your  fondest 
wishes  for  my  happiness  could  picture,  and 
longs  to  see  her  dear  uncle,  as  she  already 
calls  you  on  every  occasion."  I  read  no 
more — my  eyes  swam — the  paper,  the  can- 
dles, everything  before  me  was  misty  and 
confused  ;  and  although  I  heard  my  uncle's 
voice  still  going  on,  I  knew  nothing  of 
what  he  said. 

For  some  time  my  mind  could  not  take 
in  the  full  extent  of  the  base  treachery  I 
had  met  with,  and  I  sat  speechless  and 
stupefied.  By  degrees  my  faculties  became 
clearer,  and  with  one  glance  I  read  the 
whole  business,  from  my  first  meeting  with 
them  at  Kilrush  to  the  present  moment. 
I  saw  that  in  their  attentions  to  me,  they 
thought  they  were  winning  the  heir  of 
Elton,  the  future  proprietor  of  fifteen 
thousand  per  annum.  From  this  tangled 
web  of  heartless  intrigue  I  turned  my 
thoughts  to  Lady  Jane  herself.  How  had 
she  betrayed  me  ?  for  certainly  she  had 
not  only  received,  but  encouraged  my  ad- 
dresses— and  so  soon  too  !  To  think  that, 
at  the  very  moment  when  my  own  precip- 
itate haste  to  see  her  had  involved  me  in 
a  nearly  fatal  accident,  she  was  actually 
receiving  the  attentions  of  another!  Ob, 
it  was  too,  too  bad. 


lint  enough — even  now  I  can  scarcely 
dwell  upon  the  memory  of  that  moment, 
when  the  hopes  and  dreams  of  many  a  long 
day  and  night  were  destined  to  be  thus 
rudely  blighted.  1  seized  the  first  oppor- 
tunity of  bidding  my  uncle  good  night; 
and  having  promised  him  to  reveal  all  my 
[dans  on  the  morrow,  hurried  to  my  room. 

My  plans!  alas,  1  bad  none! — that  one 
fatal  paragraph  bad  scattered  them  to  the 
winds  ;  and  I  threw  myself  upon  my  bed, 
wretched  and  almost  heart-broken. 

I  have  once  before  in  these  "Confes- 
sions" claimed  to  myself  the  privilege,  not 
inconsistent  with  a  full  disclosure  of  the 
memorabilia  of  my  life,  to  pass  slightly 
over  those  passages  the  burden  of  which 
was  unhappy,  and  whose  memory  is  still 
painful.  1  must  now,  therefore,  claim  the 
"  benefit  of  this  act,"  and  beg  of  the  reader 
to  let  me  pass  from  this  sad  portion  of  my 
history,  and  for  the  full  expression  of  my 
mingled  rage,  contempt,  disappointment, 
and  sorrow,  let  me  beg  of  him  to  receive 
instead,  what  a  learned  pope  once  gave  as 
his  apology  for  not  reading  a  rather  poly- 
syllabic word  in  a  Latin  letter — "As  for 
this,"  said  he,  looking  at  the  phrase  in 
question,  "suppose  it  said."  So  say  I. 
And  now,  en  route. 


CHAPTER  XL 


CHELTENHAM — MATRIMONIAL   ADVENTURE — SHOWING 
HOW  TO   MAKE   LOVE   FOR   A   FRIEND. 

It  was  a  cold  raw  evening  in  February, 
as  I  sat  in  the  coffee-room  of  the 
Old  Plough,  in  Cheltenham,  Liccullus 
c.  Lucullo — no  companion  save  my  half- 
finished  decanter  of  port.  I  had  drawn 
my  chair  to  the  corner  of  the  ample 
fireplace,  and  in  a  half-dreamy  state 
was  reviewing  the  incidents  of  my  early 
life,  and  like  most  men  who,  however 
young,  have  still  to  lament  talents  misap- 
plied, opportunities  neglected,  profitless 
labor,  and  disastrous  idleness.  The 
dreary  aspect  of  the  large  and  ill-lighted 
room — the  close-curtained  boxes — the  un- 
social look  of  every  thing  and  body  about, 
suited  the  habit  of  my  soul,  and  I  was  on 
the  verge  of  becoming  excessively  senti- 
mental; the  unbroken  silence,  where  sev- 
eral people  were  present,  bad  also  its  effect 
upon  me, and  1  felt  oppressed  and  dejected. 
»So  I  sat  for  an  hour;  the  clock  over  the 
mantle  ticked  sharply  on — the  old  man  in 
the  brown  surtout  had  turned  in  bis  chair, 
and   now   snored    louder — the   gentleman 


JIARR  Y  L O 11 llKn  VER. 


51 


who  read  the  Times  had  got  the  Clironicle, 

and  I  thought  I  saw  liim  nodding  over  the 
advertisements.  The  father  who,  with  a 
raw  son  of  about  nineteen,  had  dined  at 
six,  sat  still  and    motionless  opposite  bis 

offspring,  and  only  breaking  the  silence 
around  by  the  grating  of  the  decanter  as 
lie  posted  it  across  the  table.  The  only 
thing  denoting  active  existence  was  a  lit- 
tle, shrivelled  man,  who,  with  spectacles 
on  his  forehead  and  hotel  slippers  on  his 
leet.  rapidly  walked  rip  and  down,  occa- 
sionally stopping  at  his  table  to  sip  a,  little 
weak-looking  negus,  which  was  hismoder- 
ate  potation  for  two  hours.  1  have  been 
particular  in  chronicling  these  few  and  ap- 
parently trivial  circumstances,  for  bywhai 
mere  trifles  are  our  greatest  and  most  im- 
portant movements  induced!  Had  the 
near  wheeler  of  the  Umpire  been  only  safe 

on  his  forelegs  and hut  let  me  continue. 

The  gloom  and  melancholy  which  besei 
me  momentarily  increased.  But  three 
months  before,  and  my  prospects  presented 
everything  that  was  fairest  and  brightest 
— now  all  the  future  was  dark  and  dismal. 
Then,  my  best  friends  could  scarcely  avoid 
envy  at  my  fortune — now,  my  reverses 
might  almost  excite  compassion  even  in  an 
enemy.  It  was  singular  enough — and  I 
should  not  like  to  acknowledge  it,  were  not 
these  "Confessions"  in  their  very  nature 
intended  to  disclose  the  very  penetralia  of 
my  heart — hut  singular  it  certainly  was — 
and  so  I  have  always  felt  it  since,  when  re- 
flecting on  it — that  although  much  and 
warmly  attached  to  Lady  Jane  Callonby, 
and  feeling  most  accutely  what  I  must  call 
her  abandonment  of  me.  yet,  the  most  con- 
stantly recurring  idea  of  my  mind  on  the 
subject  was,  what  will  the  mess  say? — 
what  will  they  think  at  headquar- 
ters ? — the  raillery,  the  jesting,  the  half- 
concealed  allusion,  the  tone  of  assumed 
compassion,  which  all  awaited  me.  as  each 
of  my  comrades  took  up  his  line  'of  behav- 
ing towards  me,  was,  after  all,  the  most 
difficult  thing  to  be  borne,  and  1  absolutely 
dreaded  to  join  my  regiment  more  thor- 
oughly than  did  ever  schoolboy  to  return 
to  his  labor  on  the  expiration  of  his  holi- 
days. I  had  framed  to  myself  all  manner 
of  ways  of  avoiding  this  dread  event  : 
sometimes  I  meditated  an  exchange  into 
an  African  corps — sometimes  to  leave  the 
army  altogether.  However  I  turned  the 
affair  over  in  my  mind,  innumerable  diffi- 
culties presented  themselves  ;  and  I  was 
at  last  reduced  to  that  stand-still  point,  in 
which,  after  continual  vacillation,  one 
only  waits  for  the  slightest  impulse  of  per- 
suasion  from   another,  to  adopt   any,   no 


matter  what.  on.     In  this  envia 

frame  of   mind   1  -at   sipping  mv  wine,  and 

watching  the  clock  for  that  hour  at  which, 
with  a  safe  conscience,  1  might  retire  to 
my  bed,  when  the  waiter  roused  me  by  de- 
manding if  my  name  was  Mr.  Lorrequer, 
for  that  a  gentleman  having  Been  mv 
card  in  the  bar.  had  been  making  in- 
quiry for  the   owner  of  it  all  through  tin- 

hotel. 

•■  Yes,"  said  I.  "such  is  my  name ;  but 
I   am    ool   acquainted  with  any  one  hi 
that  I  can  remember." 

"The   gentleman    has    only  arrived   an 

hour  since  by  the  London  mail,  sir;  and 
here  he  isc" 

At  t  his  moment,  a  tail,  dashing-looking, 
half-swaggering  fellow,  in  a  very  sufficient 
envelope'of  box-coats,  entered  the  coffee- 
room,  and  unwinding  a  shawl  from  bis 
throat,  showed  me  the  honesi  and  manly 
countenance  of  my  friend  Jack  "Waller,  of 
the  — th  dragoons,  with  whom  I  had  serv- 
ed in  the  Peninsula. 

Five  minutes  sufficed  for  Jack  to  tell 
that  he  was  come  down  on  a  hold  specula- 
tion at  this  unseasonable  time  for  Chelten- 
ham; that  he  was  quite  sure  his  fortune 
was  about  to  be  made  in  a  few  weeks  at 
furthest  ;  and  what  seemed  nearly  as  en- 
grossing a  topic — that  he  was  perfectly 
famished,  and  desired  a  "hot  supper,  de 
suite. 

Jack  having  despatched  this  agreeable 
meal  with  a  traveler's  appetite,  proceeded 
to  unfold  his  plans  to  me  as  follows  : 

There  resided  somewhere  near  Chelten- 
ham, in  what  direction  he  did  not  abso- 
lutely know,  an  old  East  India  colonel, 
who  had  returned  from  a  long  career  of 
successful  staff  duties  and  government  con- 
tracts, with  the  moderate  fortune  of  two 
hundred  thousand.  He  possessed,  in  ad- 
dition, a  son  and  a  daughter  ;  the  former, 
being  a  rake  and  a  gambler,he  had  long 
since  consigned  to  his  own  devices,  and  to 
the  latter  he  had  avowed  his  intention  of 
leaving  all  his  wealth.  That  she  was  beau- 
tiful as  an  angel — highly  accomplished — 
gifted — agreeabk — and  all  that.  Jack,  who 
had  never  seen  her.  was  firmly  convinced  ; 
that  she  was  also  bent  resolutely  on  marry- 
ing him.  or  any  other  gentleman  whose 
claims  were  principally  the  want  of  money, 
he  was  quite  ready  to  swear  to  :  and,  in 
fact,  so  assured  did  he  feel  that  "the 
whole  affair  was  feasible"  (I  use  his  own 
expression),  that  he  had  managed  a  two 
months'  leave,  and  was  come  down  express, 
to  see,  make  love  to,  and  carry  her  off  ac 
once. 

•«  But,"  said  I,  with  difficulty  interrupt- 


52 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


ing  him,  "how  long  have  you  known  her 
father?" 

"  Known  him  ?  I  never  saw  him." 

"Well,  that  certainly  is  cool.  And  how 
do  yon  propose  making  his  acquaintance  ? 
Do  you  intend  to  make  him  a  particeps 
criminis  in  the  elopement  of  his  own-daugh- 
ter, for  a  consideration  to  be  hereafter  paid 
out  of  his  own  money  ?'" 

"Now,  Harry,  you've  touched  upon  the 
point  in  which,  you  must  confess,  my 
genius  always  stood  unrivalled.  Acknowl- 
edge, if  you  are  not  dead  to  gratitude- 
acknowledge  how  often  should  you  have 
gone  supperless  to  bed  in  our  bivouacs  in 
the  Peninsula,  had  it  not  been  for  the  in- 
genuity of  your  humble  servant— avow, 
that  if  mutton  was  to  be  had,  and  beef  to 
be  purloined  within  a  circuit  of  twenty 
miles  round,  our  mess  certainly  kept  no 
fast  days.  I  need  not  remind  you  of  the 
cold  morning  on  the  retreat  from  Burgos, 
when  the  inexorable  Lake  brought  five 
men  to  the  halberds  for  stealing  turkeys, 
that  at  the  same  moment  I  was  engaged  in 
devising  an  ox-tail  soup  from  a  heifer 
brought  to  our  tent  in  jack-boots,  the  even- 
ing before,  to  escape  detection  by  her  foot 
tracks." 

"  True,  Jack,  I  never  questioned  your 
Spartan  talent ;  but  this  affair,  time  con- 
sidered, does  apnear  rather  difficult." 

"And  if  it  were  not,  should  I  have  ever 
engaged  in  it  ?  No,  no,  Harry.  I  put  all 
proper  value  upon  the  pretty  girl,  with  her 
two  hundred  thousand  pounds  pin-money. 
But  I  honestly  own  to  you,  the  intrigue, 
the  scheme,  has  as  great  charm  for  me  as 
any  part  of  the  transaction." 

"  Well,  Jack,  now  for  the  plan,  then  !" 

"'  The  plan  !  oh,  the  plan  !  Why,  I  have 
several  ;  but  since  I  have  seen  you,  and 
talked  the  matter  over  with  you.  I  have 
begun  to  think  of  a  new  mode  of  opening 
the  trenches." 

"  Why,  I  don't  see  how  I  can  possibly 
have  admitted  a  single  iiq^v  ray  of  light 
upon  the  affair." 

"  There  you  are  quite  wrong-  Just 
hear  me  out  without  interruption,  and  I'll 
explain. '  I'll  first  discover  the  locale  of 
this  worthy  colonel — '  Hydrabad  Cottage  ' 
he  calls  it ;  good,  eh  ? — then  I  shall  pro- 
ceed to  make  a  tour  of  the  immediate 
vicinity,  and  either  be  taken  dangerously 
ill  in  his  grounds,  within  ten  yards  of  the 
hall-door,  or  be  thrown  from  my  gig  at  the 
gate  of  his  avenue  and  fracture  my  skull  ; 
I  don't  much  care  which.  Well,-  then,  as  I 
learn  the  old  gentlemen  is  the  most  kind, 
hospitable  fellow  ii*  the  world,  he'll  admit 
me  at  once  ;  his  daughter  will  tend  my  sick 


couch — nurse — read  to  me;  glorious  fun, 
Harry!     I'll  make  fierce  love  to  her.     And 

now.  the  only  point  to  be  decided  is 
whether,  having  partaken  of  the  colonel's 
hospitality  so  freely,  !  ought  to  carry  her 
off,  or  marry  her  with  papa's  consent. 
You  see  there  is  much  to  be  said  for  either 
line  of  proceeding." 

"I  certainly  agree  with  you  there  ;  but 
since  you  seem  to  see  your  way  so  clearly 
up  to  that  point,  why.  1  should  advise  you 
leaving  that  an  '  open  question,'  as  the 
ministers  say  when  they  are  hard  pressed 
for  an  opinion." 

"Well,  Harry,  I  consent;  it  shall  re- 
main so.  Now  for  your  part,  for  I  have 
now  come  to  that." 

''Mine !  "  said  I,  in  amazement ;  "why, 
how  can  I  possibly  have  any  character  as- 
signed me  in  the  drama?  " 

"'I'll  tell  you,  Harry;  you  shall  come 
with  me  in  the  gig  in  the  capacity  of  my 
valet." 

•"  Your  what  ?"  said  I,  horror-struck  at 
his  impudence. 

"  Come,  no  nonsense,  Harry;  you'll  have 
a  glorious  time  of  it — shall  choose  as  be- 
coming a  livery  as  you  like- — and  you'll 
have  the  whole  female  world  below  stairs 
dying  for  you  ;  and  all  I  ask  for  such  an 
opportunity  vouchsafed  to  you  is  to  puff 
me,  your  master,  in  every  possible  shape 
and  form,  and  represent  me  as  the  finest 
and  most  liberal  fellow  in  the  world,  rol- 
ling in  wealth,  and  only  striving  to  get  rid 
of  it." 

The  unparalleled  effrontery  of  Master 
Jack,  in  assigning  to  me  such  an  office, 
absolutely  left  me  unable  to  reply  to  him  ; 
while  he  continued  to  expatiate  upon  the 
great  field  for  exertion  thus  open  to  us 
both.  At  last  it  occurred  to  me  to  benefit 
by  an  anecdote  of  a  something  similar  ar- 
rangement, of  capturing,  not  a  young  lady 
but  a  fortified  town,  by  retorting  Jack's 
proposition. 

"  Come,"  said  I,  "  I  agree,  with  one  only 
difference — I'll  be  the  master  and  you  the 
man  on  this  occasion." 

To  my  utter  confusion,  and  without  a 
second's  consideration,  Waller  grasped  my 
hand,  and  cried,  "Done!"  Of  course  I 
laughed  heartily  at  the  utter  absurdity  of 
the"  whole  scheme,  and  rallied  my  friend 
on  his  prospects  of  Botany Bayfor  such  an 
exploit,  never  contemplating  in  the  most 
remote  degree  the  commission  of  such  ex- 
travagance. 

Upon  this.  Jack,  to  use  the  expressive 
French  phrase  prit  la  parole,  touching, 
with  a  master-like  delicacy,  on  my  late  de- 
feat among   the  Callonbys  (which  up  to 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


this  instant  T  belii  ved  him  in  ignorance 
of),  he  expal  iated  upon  t  lie  prospect  of  my 
repairing  that  misfortune,  and  obtainingu 
fortune  considerably  larger  ;  he  cautiously 
abstained  from  mentioning  the  personal 
charms  of  the  young  lady,  supposing  from 
my  lachrymose  look,  that  my  heart  had 
not  yet  recovered  the  shock  of  Lady  Line's 
perfidy,  and  rather  preferred  todwell  upon 
the  escape  such  a  marriage  would  open  to 
me  from  the  mockery  of  the  mess-table, 
the  jesting  of  my  brother  officers,  and  the 
life-long  raillery  of  the  service,  wherever 
the  story  reached. 

The  fatal  facility  of  my  disposition,  so 
often  and  so  frankly  chronicled  in  these 
"Confessions'' — the  openness  to  be  led 
whither  any  one  might  lake  the  trouble  to 
conduct  me — the  easy  indifference  to  as- 
sume any  character  which  might  be 
pressed  upon  me,  by  chance,  accident,  or 
design,  assisted  by  my  share  of  three  flasks 
of  champagne,  induced  me  first  to  listen — 
then  to  attend  to — soon  after  to  suggest — 
and  finally,  absolutely  to  concur  in  and 
agree  to  a  proposal  which,  at  any  other 
moment,  I  must  have  regarded  as  down- 
right insanity.  As  the  clock  struck  two. 
I  had  just  affixed  my  name  to  an  agree- 
ment ;  for  Jack  Waller  had  so  much  of 
method  in  his  madness,  that,  fearful  of  my 
retracting  in  the  morning,  he  had  com- 
mitted the  whole  to  writing,  which,  as  a 
specimen  of  Jack's  legal  talents,  I  copy 
from  the  original  document,  now  in  my 
possession. 

"The  Plough,  Cheltenham,  Tuesday 
night  or  morning,  two  o'clock — be  the 
same  more  or  less.  I,  Harry  Lorrequer, 
sub.  in  his  Majesty's  — th  Regiment  of 
Foot,  on  the  one  part,  and  I,  John  Waller, 
commonly  called  Jack  Waller,  of  the  — th 
Light  Dragoons,  on  the  other,  hereby  prom- 
ise and  agree,  each  for  himself,  and  not 
one  for  the  other,  to  the  following  condi- 
tions, which  are  hereafter  subjoined,  to 
wit,  the  aforesaid  Jack  Waller  is  to  serve. 
obey,  and  humbly  follow  the  aforemen- 
tioned Harry  Lorrequer,  for  the  space  of 
one  month  of  four  weeks;  conducting  him- 
self in  all  respects,  modes,  ways,  manners, 
as  his,  the  aforesaid  Lorrequer's  own  man. 
skip,  valet,  or  flunkey — duly  praising. 
puffing,  and  lauding  the  aforesaid  Lorre- 
quer, and  in  every  way  facilitating  his  suc- 
cess to  the  hand  and  fortune  of " 

"Shall  we  put  in  her  name,  Harry, 
here  ?"  said  Jack. 

"  I  think  not ;  we'll  fill  it  up  in  pencil ; 
that  looks  very  knowing." 

at  the  end  of  which  period,   if 


successful  in  his  suit,  the  aforesaid  Harry 


Lorrequer  is  to  render  to  (lie  aforesaid 
Waller  the  sum   of  ten  thousand  pounds 

three  ami  a  half  per  cent,    with    a    faithful 

discharge  in  writing  for  In-  si  r\  ices, 
may  he.  If,  on  t  he  ot  her  hand  and  wh 
Heaven   forbid  !    the  aforesaid    Lorrequer 

fail   in  obtaining  the  hand  of ,  that   he 

will    evacuate    the    territory     within    twelve 

hours,  and  repairing  to  a  convenienl  spol 
selected  by  the  aforesaid  Waller,  then  and 
there  duly  invest  himself  with  a,  livery 
chosen  by  the  aforesaid  Waller " 

"•  You    know,  each    man    a  hoiee 

in  this  particular,"  said  Jack. 

" and,  for  the  .-pare  of  four  calen- 
dar weeks,  be  unto  the  aforesaid  Waller  as 
his  skip,  or  valet,  receiving,  in  the  event 
of  success,  the  like  compensation  as  afore- 
said, each  promising  strictly  to  maintain 
the  terms  of  this  agreement,  and  bind 
by  a  solemn  pledge,  to  divest  himself  of 
every  right  appertaining  to  his  former  con- 
dition, for  the  space  of  time  there  men- 
!  i otied." 

We  signed  and  sealed  it  formally,  and 
finished  another  flask  to  its  perfect-  ratifica- 
tion. This  done,  and  after  a  hearty  shake 
hands,  we  parted  and  retired  for  the 
night. 

The  first  thing  I  saw  on  waking  the  fol- 
lowing morning  was  Jack  Wader  standing 
beside  my  bed,  evidently  in  excellent  spirits 
with  himself  and  all  the  world. 

"  Harry,  my  boy,  I  have  done  it  glori- 
ously," said  he.  ''  I  only  remembered  on 
parting  with  you  last  night,  that  one  of 
the  most  marked  features  in  our  old 
colonel's  character  is  a  certain  vague  idea 
he  has  somewhere  picked  up  that  he  has 
been  at  some  very  remote  period  of  his 
history  a  most  distinguised  officer.  This 
notion,  it  appears,  haunts  his  mind,  and  he 
absolutely  believes  he  has  been  in  every  en- 
gagement from  the  Seven  Years'  War 
down  to  the  battle  of  Waterloo.  You 
cannot  mention  a  siege  he  did  not  lav 
down  the  first  parallel  for.  nor  a  storming 
party  where  he  did  not  lead  the  forlorn 
hope  ;  and  there  is  not  a  regiment  in  the 
service,  from  those  that  formed  the  fight- 
ing brigade  of  Picton  down  to  the  London 
train-bands,  with  which,  to  use  Ins  own 
phrase,  he  has  not  fought  and  bled.  This 
mania  of  heroism  is  droll  enough,  when 
one  considers  that  the  sphere  of  his  action 
was  necessarily  so  limited  :  but  yet  we 
have  every  reason  to  be  thankful  for  the 
peculiarity,  as  you'll  say,  when  I  inform 
you  that  this  morning  I  despatched  a 
hasty  messenger  to  his  villa,  with  a  most 
polite  note,  setting  forth  that  'as  Mr.  Lor- 
requer ' — ay,  Harry,  all  aboveboard — thers 


54 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


is  nothing  like  it — 'us  Mr.  Lorrequer,  of 
the  —  th,  was  collecting  for  publication 
such  materials  as  might  serve  to  commem- 
orate the  distinguished  achievements  of 
British  officers,  who  have,  at  any  time, 
been  in  command,  he  most  respectfully  re- 
quests an  interview  with  Colonel  Kam- 
worth,  whose  distinguished  services,  on 
many  gallant  occasions,  have  called  forth 
the  unqualified  approval  of  his  Majesty's 
government.  Mr.  Lorrequer's  stay  is  nec- 
essarily limited  to  a  few  days,  as  he  pro- 
ceeds from  this  to  visit  Lord  Anglesey, 
and,  therefore,  would  humbly  suggest  as 
early  a  meeting  as  may  suit  Colonel  K.'s 
convenience.'  What  think  you  now  ?  Is 
this  a  master-stroke,  or  not  ?  " 

"  Why,  certainly,  Ave  are  in  for  it  now," 
Raid  I,  drawing  a  deep  sigh.  "  But,  Jack, 
what  is  all  this  ?  Why,  you're  in  livery  al- 
ready ! " 

I  now,  for  the  first  time,  perceived  that 
Waller  was  arrayed  in  a  very  decorous  suit 
of  dark  grey,  with  cord  shorts  and  boots, 
and  looked  a  very  knowing  style  of  servant 
for  the  side  of  a  tilbury. 

"You  like  it,  do  you  ?  Well.  I  should 
have  preferred  something  a  little  more 
showy  myself ;  but  as  you  chose  this  last 
night,  I  of  course  gave  way;  and,  after  all, 
I  believe  you're  right — it  certainly  is  neat." 

"Did  I  choose  it  last  night?  I  have 
not  the  slightest  recollection  of  it." 

"Yes,  you  were  most  particular  about 
the  length  of  the  waistcoat  and  the  height 
of  the  cockade,  and  you  see  I  have  follow- 
ed your  orders  tolerably  close  ;  and  now, 
adieu  to  sweet  equality  for  the  season, 
and  I  am  your  most  obedient  servant  for 
four  weeks — see  that  you  make  the  most  of 
it." 

While  we  were  talking,  the  waiter  entered 
with  a  note  addressed  to  me,  which  I 
rightly  conjectured  could  only  come  from 
Colonel  Kamworth.     It  ran  thus  : — 

"Colonel  Kamworth  feels  highly  flatter- 
ed by  the  polite  attention  of  Mr.  Lorre- 
quer, and  will  esteem  it  a  particular  favor 
if  Mr.  L.  can  afford  him  the  few  days  his 
stay  in  this  part  of  the  country  will  per- 
mit, by  spending  them  at  Hydrabad  Cot-' 
tage.  Any  information  as  to  Colonel  Kam- 
worth's  services  in  the  four  quarters  of  the 
globe,  he  need  not  say,  is  entirely  at  Mr. 
L.'s  disposal. 

"Colonel  K.  dines  at  six  precisely. 

When  Waller  had  read  the  note  through, 
he  tossed  his  hat  up  in  the  air.  and.  with 
something  little  short  of  an  Indian  whoop, 
shouted  out, — 


"The  game  is  won  already!  Harry, 
my  man,  give  me  the  cheque  for  the  ten 
thousand  :  she  is  your  own  this  minute." 

Without  participating  entirely  in  Wal- 
ler's exceeding  delight,  I  could  not  help 
feeling  a  growing  interest  in  the  part  I 
was  advertised  to  perform,  and  began  my 
rehearsal  with  more  spirit  (ban  I  thought 
I  should  have  been  able  to  command. 

The  same  evening,  at  the  same  hour  as 
that  in  which  on  the  preceding  night  I  sat 
lone  and  comfortless  by  the  coffee-room 
fire,  I  was  seated  opposite  a  very  pompous, 
respectable-looking  old  man,  with  a  large, 
stiff  queue  of  white  hair,. who  pressed  me 
repeatedly  to  fill  my  glass  and  pass  the 
decanter.  The  room  was  a  small  library, 
with  handsomely-fitted  shelves  ;  there  were 
but  four  chairs,  but  each  would  have  made 
at  least  three  of  any  modern  one  ;  the 
curtains,  of  deep  crimson  cloth,  effectually 
secured  the  room  from  draught,  and  the 
cheerful  wood  fire  blazing  on  the  hearth, 
which  was  the  only  light  in  the  apartment, 
gave  a  most  inviting  look  of  comfort  and 
snugness  to  everything.  "This,"  thought 
I,  "  is  all  excellent,  and  however  the  ad- 
venture ends,  this  is  certainly  pleasant, 
and  I  never  tasted  better  Madeira." 

"And  so,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  you  heard  of 
my  affair  at  Cantantrabad,  when  I  took 
the  Rajah  prisoner  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  I  ;  "the  Governor-General 
mentioned  the  gallant  business  the  very 
last  time  I  dined  at  Government  House." 

"Ah,  did  he?  kind  of  him,  though. 
Well.  sir.  I  received  two  lacs  of  rupees  on 
the  morning  after,  and  a  promise  of  ten 
more  if  I  would  permit  him  to  escape  ; 
but  no — I  refused  flatly." 

"Is  it  possible  !  And  what  did  you  do 
with  the  two  lacs  ? — sent  them  back,  of 
course " 

"  No,  that  I  didn't ;  the  wretches  know 
nothing  of  the  use  of  money.  No,  no  ;  I 
have  them  this  moment  in  good  Govern- 
ment security.  I  believe  I  never  mentioned 
to  you  the  storming  of  Java.  Fill  your- 
self another  glass,  and  I'll  describe  it  all  to 
you,  for  it  will  be  of  infinite  consequence 
that  a  true  narrative  of  this  meets  the 
public  eye — they  really  are  quite  ignorant 
of  it.  Here,  now,  is  Fort  Cornelius,  and 
there  is  the  moat  ;  the  sugar-basin  is  the 
citadel,  and  the  tongs  is  the  first  trench  ; 
the  decanter  will  represent  the  tall  tower 
towards  the  south- \vest  angle,  and  here. 
the  wine-glass — this  is  me.  Well,  it  was  a 
little  after  ten  at  night  that  I  got  the  order 
from  the  general  in  command  to  march 
upon  this  plate  of  tigs,  which  was  an  open 
space  before  Fort  Cornelius,  and  to  take 


//.  I  11 R  Y  L  ORREQ  UER. 


oo 


up  my  position  in  front  of  the-  fort,  and 
with  four  pieces  of  field  artillery — these 
walnuts  here  —to  be  ready  t<>  open  ray  fire 
at  a  moment's  warning  upon  the  sou'-west 
tower;  but,  my  dear  sir,  you  have  moved 
the  tower;  1  thought  you  were  drinking 
Madeira,  As  I  said  before,  to  open  my 
fire  upon  the  sou'-west  tower,  or,  if  neces- 
sary, to  protect  the  sugar-tongs,  which  I 
explained  to  you  was  the  trench.  Just,  at 
the  same  time,  the  besieged  were  making 
preparations  for  a  sortie  to  occupy  tin- 
dish  of  almonds  and  raisins — the  high 
ground  to  the  left  of  my  position — put  an- 
other ldg  on  the  fire,  if  you  please,  sir,  for 
I  cannot  see  myself — I  thought  I  was  up 
near  the  figs,  and  I  find  myself  down  near 
the  half-moon " 

"It  is  past  nine,"  said  a  servant,  enter- 
ing the  room  ;  ''shall  I  take  the  carriage 
for  Miss  Kam worth,  sir  ?" 

This  being-  the  first  time  the  name  of 
the  young  lady  was  mentioned  since  my 
arrival,  I  felt  somewhat  anxious  to  hear 
more  of  her,  in  which  laudable  desire  I 
was  not,  however,  to  be  gratified,  for  the 
colonel,  feeling  considerably  annoyed  by 
the  interruption,  dismissed  the  servant  by 
saying — 

"What  do  you  mean,  sirrah,  by  coming 
in  at  this  moment  ?  Don't  you  see  I  am 
preparing  for  the  attack  on  the  half-moon  ? 
Mr.  Lorrequer,  I  beg  your  pardon  for  one 
moment ;  this  fellow  lias  completely  put 
me  out ;  and  besides,  I  pereeive  you  have 
eaten  the  flying  artillery,  and,  in  fact,  my 
dear  sir,  I  shall  be  obliged  to  lay  down  the 
position  again." 

With  this  praisworthy  interest  the  colo- 
nel proceeded  to  arrange  the  materiel  of 
our  dessert  in  battle  array,  when  the  door 
was  suddenly  thrown  open,  and  a  very 
handsome  girl,  in  a  most  becoming  demi- 
toilet,  sprang  into  the  room,  and  either 
not  noticing,  or  not  caring,  that  a  stranger 
was  present,  threw  herself  into  the  old 
gentleman's  arms,  with  a  degree  of  ern- 
pressement  exceedingly  vexatious  for  any 
third  and  unoccupied  parry  to  witness. 

"■Mary,  my  dear,"  said  the  colonel,  com- 
pletely forgetting  Java  and  Fort  Cornelius 
at  once,  "you  don't  pereeive  I  have  a  gen- 
tleman to  introduce  to  you — Mr.  Lorre- 
quer, my  daughter,  Miss  Kamworth." 
Here  the  young  lady  curtseyed  somewhat 
stiffly,  and'  I  bowed  reverently  ;  and  we  all 
resumed  places.  I  now  found  out  that 
Miss  Kamworth  had  been  spending  the 
preceding  four  or  five  days  at  a  friend's  in 
the  neighborhood,  and  had  preferred  com- 
ing home  somewhat  unexpectedly  to  wait- 
ing for  her  own  carriage. 


My  "Confessions,"  if  recorded  verbatim 
from  the  notes  of  that  four  weeks' sojourn. 
would  only  increase  the  already  too  prolix 
and  uninteresting  details  of  this  chapter 
of  my  life  ;  I  need  only  say,  i  hal  without 
falling  in  love  wit  h  Marj  Kamworth 
prodigiously  disposed  thereto.  She  was 
exl  remely  pretty,  had  a  foot  and  anl 
swear  by,  the  most  silvery-toned  voii 

ever  heard,  and  a  certain  witchery 
and  archness  of  manner  thai  by  its  very 
tantalizing  uncertainty  continually  pro- 
voked attention,  and  by  suggesting  a  diffi- 
culty in  the  road  to  since--,  imparted  :i 
more  than  common  zesl  in  the  pursuit. 
She  was  a  little,  a  very  little  blui — rather 
a  dabbler  in  the  "ologies"  than  a  real  dis- 
ciple. Yet  she  made  collections  of  miner- 
al, and  brown  beetles,  and  cryptogamias, 
and  various  other  homoeopathic  doses  of  the 
creation,  infinitesimally  small  in  their  sub- 
division :  in  none  of  which  I  felt  any  in- 
terest, save  in  the  excuse  they  gave  for  ac- 
companying her  in  her  pony-phaeton. 
This  was,  however,  a  rare  pleasure,  since 
every  morning  for  at  least  three  or  four 
hours,  I  was  obliged  to  sit  opposite  the 
colonel,  engaged  in  the  compilation  of  that 
narrative  of  his  deeds,  which  was  to  eclipse 
the  career  of  Napoleon,  and  leave  Welling- 
ton's laurels  but  a  very  faded  lustre  \\ 
comparison.  In  this  agreeable  occupation 
did  I  pass  the  greater  part  of  my  day,  lis- 
tening to  the  insufferable  prolixity  of  the 
most  prolix  of  colonels,  and  at  times,  not- 
withstanding the  propinquity  of  relation- 
ship which   awaited   us.  almost   regretting 

j  that  he  was  not  blown  up  in  any  of  tin- 
numerous  explosions  his  memoir  abounded 

|  with.  I  may  here  mention,  that  while  my 
literary  labor  was  thus  progressing,  the 
young  lady  continued  her  avocations  as  be- 
fore— not,  indeed  with  me  for  her  com- 
panion, but  Waller — for  Colonel  Kam- 
worth, "having  remarked  the  steadiness 
and  propriety  of  my  man.  felt  no  scruple 
in  sending  him  out  to  drive  Miss  Kam- 
worth," particularly  as  I  gave  him  a  most 
excellent  character  for  every  virtue  under 
heaven. 

I  must  hasten  on.  The  last  evening  of 
my  four  weeks  was  drawing  to  a  close. 
Colonel  Kamworth  had  pressed  me  to  pro- 
long my  visit,  and  I  only  waited  for  Wal- 
ler's return  from  Cheltenham,  whither  I 
had  sent  him  for  my  letters,  to  make  ar- 
rangements with  him  to  absolve  me  from 
my  ridiculous  bond,  and  accept  the  invita- 
tion. We  were  sitting  round  the  library 
fire,  the  colonel,  as  usual,  narrating  his 
early  deeds  and  hair-breadth  'scapes; 
Mary,  embroidering  an  indescribable  some- 


5G 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


thing,  which  every  evening  made  its  ap- 
pearance, but  seemed  never  to  advance, 
was  rather  in  better  spirits  than  usual,  at 
the  same  time  her  manner  was  nervous  and 

uncertain  ;  and  I  conld  perceive,  by  her 
frequent  absence  of  mind,  that  her 
thoughts  were  not  as  much  occupied  by 
the    siege   of   Java  as    her  worthy  father 

slieved  them.  Without  laving  any  stress 
upon  the  circumstance,  I  must  yet  avow 
that  Waller's  not  having  returned  from 
Cheltenham  gave  me  some  uneasiness,  and 
I  more  than  once  had  recourse  to  the  bell 
to  demand  if  "my  servant  had  come  back 
yet  ?"  At  each  of  these  times  I  well  re- 
member the  peculiar  expression  of  Mary's 
look,  the  half  embarrassment,  half  drol- 
lery, with  which  she  listened  to  the  ques- 
tion, and  heard  the  answer  in  the  negative. 
Supper  at  length  made  its  appearance  ; 
and  I  asked  the  servant  who  waited  "if 
my  man  had  brought  me  any  letters," 
varying  my  inquiry  to  conceal  my  anxiety; 
and  again  J  heard  he  had  not  returned. 
Resolving  now  to  propose  in  all  form  for 
Miss  Kamworth  the  next  morning,  and  by 
referring  the  Colonel  to  my  uncle  Sir  Guy, 
smooth,  as  far  as  I  could,  all  difficulties,  I 
wished  them  good  night,  and  retired  ;  not, 
however,  before  the  colonel  had  warned 
me  that  they  were  to  have  an  excursion  to 
some  place  in  the  neighborhood  the  next 
day,  and  begging  that  I  might  be  in  the 
breakfast-room  at  nine,  as  they  were  to  as- 
semble there  from  all  parts,  and  start 
early  on  the  expedition.  I  was  in  a  sound 
sleep  the  following  morning,  when  a  gen- 
tle tap  at  the  door  awoke  me  ;  at  the  same 
time  I  recognized  the  voice  of  the  colonel's 
servant,  saying  "  Mr.  Lorrequer,  breakfast 
is  waiting,  sir." 

I  sprang  up  at  once,  and  replying, 
"  Very  well,  I  shall  come  down,"  proceeded 
to  dress  in  all  haste,  but  to  my  horror  1 
could  not  discern  a  vestige  of  my  clothes  ; 
nothing  remained  of  the  habiliments  I  pos- 
sessed only  the  day  before — even  my  port- 
manteau had  disappeared.  After  a  most 
diligent  search,  I  discovered  on  a  chair  in 
a  corner  of  the  room  a  small  bundle  tied 
up  in  a  handkerchief,  on  opening  which  I 
perceived  a  new  suit  of  livery  of  the  most 
gaudy  and  showy  description  ;  the  vest  and 
breeches  of  yellow  plush,  with  light  bine 
binding  and  lace,  of  which  color  was  also 
the  coat,  which  had  a  standing  collar  and 
huge  cult's,  deeply  ornamented  with  work- 
ed button-holes  and  large  buttons.  As  I 
turned  the  things  over,  without  even  a 
guess  of  what  they  could  mean,  for  1  was 
scarcely  well  awake.  I  perceived  a  small 
slip  of  paper   fastened    to   the   coat-sleeve, 


upon  which,  in   Waller's  handwriting,  the 
following  few  words  were  written  : — 

"  The  livery  I  hope  will  fit  you,  as  I  am 
rather  particular  about  how  you'll  look. 
Get  quietly  down  to  the  stable  yard,  and 
drive  the  tilbury  into  Cheltenham,  where 
wait  for  further  orders  from  your  kind 
master, 

"John  Waller." 

The  horrible  villany  of  this  wild  scamp 
actually  paralyzed  me.  That  I  should  put 
on  such  ridiculous  trumpery  was  out  of 
the  question  :  yet  what  was  to  be  done  ? 
I  rang  the  bell  violently.  "  Where  are  my 
clothes,  Thomas  ?  " 

"  Don't  know,  sir  ;  I  was  out  all  the 
morning,  sir,  and  never  seed  them." 

"  There,  Thomas,  be  smart  now,  and 
send  them  up,  will  you  ?"  Thomas  dis- 
appeared, and  speedily  returned  to  say, 
"  that  my  clothes  could  not  be  found  any- 
where :  no  one  knew  anything  of  them, 
and  begged  me  to  come  down,  as  Miss 
Kamworth  desired  him  to  say  that  they 
were  still  waiting,  and  she  begged  Mr. 
Lorrequer  would  not  make  an  elaborate 
toilet,  as  they  Avere  going  on  a  (jormtry 
excursion."  An  elaborate  toilet.  1  wish 
to  Heaven  she  saw  my  costume  ;  no,  I'll 
never  do  it.  "Thomas,  you  mtoat  tell  the 
ladies,  and  the  colonel,  too,  that  I  feel  very 
ill  :  I  am  not  able  to  leave  my  bed  ;  I  am 
subject  to  attacks — very  violent  attacks  in 
my  head,  and  must  always  be  left  quiet 
and  alone  —  perfectly  alone — mind  me, 
Thomas — for  a  day  at  least."  Thomas 
departed  ;  and  as  1  lay  distracted  in  my 
bed,  I  heard  from  the  breakfast-room,  the 
loud  laughter  of  many  persons,  evidently 
enjoying  some  excellent  joke.  Could  it  be 
me  they  were  laughing  at  ?  The  thought 
was  horrible  ! 

''Colonel  Kamworth  wishes  to  know  if 
you'd  like  the  doctor,  sir,"  said  Thomas, 
evidently  suppressing  a  most  inveterate  lit 
of  laughing,  as  he  again  appeared  at  the 
door. 

'•No,  certainly  not,"  said  I,  in  a  voice 
of  thunder.  "  What  the  devil  are  you 
grinning  at  ?" 

"  Vou  may  as  well  come,  my  man  ; 
you're  found  out;  they  all  know  it  now," 
said  the  fellow  with  an  odious  grin. 

I  jumped  out  of  the  bed,  and  hurled  the 
boot-jack  at  him  with  all  my  strength;  but 
had  only  the  satisfaction  to  hear  him  go 
downstairs  chuckling  at  his  escape  ;  and 
as  he  reached  the  parlor,  the  increase  of 
mirth  and  the  loudness  of  the  laughter 
told  me  that  he  was  not  the  only  one  who 
was  merry  at  my  expense.     Anything  was 


uMUlY  LORREQUER. 


57 


preferable  to  this.  Downs! air-  I  resolved 
to  go  at  once — but  how  ? — a  blanket,  ] 
thought,  would  ooi  be  a  bad  thing,  and 
particularly  as  I  had  said  I  was  ill;  I  could 
at  least  gel  as  Ear  as  Colonel  Kamworth's 
dressing-room,  and  explain  to  him  the 
whole  affair.;  but  then,  if  I  was  detected 
en  route!  which  I  was  almost,  sim-  to  be, 
with  so  many  people  parading  about,  the 
house.  No,  thai  would  never  do;  there 
w;is  but  one  alternative,  and  dreadful, 
shocking  as  it  was,  I  could  not  avoid  it. 
and  with  a  heavy  heart,  and  as  much  in- 
dignation at  Waller,  for  what  1  could 
not  but  consider  a  most  scurvy  trick,  i 
donned  the  yellow  inexpressibles;  oexi 
came  the  vest,  and  last  the  coat,  with  its 
broad  flaps  and  lace;  excrescences,  fifty 
times  more  absurd  and  merry-au  drew  than 
any  stage  servant  who  makes  off  with  his 
table  and  two  chairs  amid  the  hisses  and 
gibes  of  an  upper  gallery. 

If  my  costume  leaned  towards  the  ridic- 
ulous,  1  resolved  that  my  air  and  bearing 
should  be  more  than  usually  austere  and 
haughty  ;  and  with  something  of  the 
stride  of  John  Kemble  in  Coriolanus,  I 
was  leaving  my  bedroom,  when  I  accident- 
ally caught  a  view  of  myself  in  the  glass  ; 
and  so  mortified,  so  shocked  was  I,  that  1 
sank  into  a  chair,  and  almost  abandoned 
my  resolution  to  go  on  ;  the  very  gesture 
I  had  assumed  for  my  vindication  only  in- 
creased the  ridicule  of  my  appearance:  and 
the  strange  quaintness  of  the  costume  to- 
tally obliterated  every  trace  of  any  charac- 
teristic of  the  wearer,  so  infernally  cunning 
was  its  contrivance.  I  don't  think  that 
the  most  saturnine  martyr  of  gout  and 
dyspepsia  could  survey  me  without  laugh- 
ing. With  a  bold  effort  I  Hung  open  my 
door,  hurried  down  the  stairs,  and  reached 
the  hall.  The  first  person  I  met  was  a 
kind  of  pantry-boy,  a  beast  only  lately 
emancipated  from  the  plough,  and  des- 
tined, after  a  dozen  years  training  as  a  ser- 
vant, again  to  be  turned  back  to  his  old 
employ  for  incapacity;  he  grinned  horribly 
for  a  minute  as  I  passed,  and  then,*  in  a 
half- whisper,  said, — 

"  Maester,  1  advise  ye  run  for  it;  they're 
a-waiting  for  ye  with  the  constables  in  the 
justice?s  room."'  I  gave  him  a  look  of 
contemptuous  superiority,  at  which  he 
grinned  the  more,  and  passed  on. 

Without  stopping  to  consider  where  I 
was  going,  I  opened  the  door  of  the  break- 
fast-parlor, and  found  myself  at  vine  plunge 
in  a  room  full  of  people.  My  first  impulse 
was  to  retreat  again  ;  but  so  shocked  was  I 
at  the  very  first  thing  that  met  my  sight, 
that  I  was  perfectly  powerless  to  do  any- 


thing.    Among  a  consid<  rable  numbei 
people  who  stood   in  small  groups  round 
the  breakfast-table,  1  discerned  Jack  Wal- 
ler habited  in  ;t  very  accurate  black   frock 
and   dark   tro  supporting  upon  his 

arm  -shall  1  confess  -  no  i  jou  than 

Mary  Kamworth,  who  leaned  on  him  with 
the  familiarity  of  an  old  acquaintance,  and 
chatted  gaily  with  him.  'I  he  buzz  of  con- 
versation which  filled  the  apartmeni  when 
I  entered  ceased  for  a  Becond  of  deep  si- 
lence ;  and  then  followed  ,-i  p.  ;il  of  laughter 
so  long  and  so  vociferous,  that  in  my  mo- 
ary  anger  1  prayed  some  one  might 
burst  a  blood-vessel,  and  frighten  the  rest. 
I  put  on  a  look  of  indescribable  indigna- 
tion, and  cast  a  glance  of  what  I  intended 
should  be  most  withering  scorn  on  the  as- 
sembly ;  but,  alas  !  my  infernal  harlequin 
costume  ruined  the  effect;  and  confound 
me,  if  they  did  not  laugh  the  louder.  I 
turned  from  one  to  the  other  with  the  air 
of  a  man  who  marks  out  victims  for  his 
future  wrath  ;  but  with  no  better 
at  last,  amid  the  continued  mirth  of  the 
party,  I  made  my  way  towards  where  Wal- 
ler stood  absolutely  suffocated  with  laugh- 
ter, and  scarcely  able  to  stand  without 
support. 

"  Waller,"  said  I,  in  a  voice  "half  tremu- 
lous with  rage  and  shame  together — 
'•Waller,  if  this  rascally  trick  be  yours,  rest 
assured  no  former  term  of  intimacy  be- 
tween us  shall " 

Before  I  could  conclude  the  sentence,  a 
bustle  at  the  door  of  the  room  called  every 
attention  in  that  direction  ;  I  turned  and 
beheld  Colonel  Kamworth,  followed  by  a 
strong  posse  comitatus  of  constables,  tip- 
staffs, etc.,  armed  to  the  teeth,  and  e\i- 
dently  prepared  for  vigorous  battle.  Be- 
fore I  was  able  to  point  out  my  woes  to  my 
kind  host,  he  burst  out, — 

'"So  you  scoundrel,  you  impostor,  you 
infernal  young  villain,  pretending  t>>  be  a 
gentleman,  you  get  admission  into  a  man's 
house  and  dine  at  his  table,  when  your 
proper  place  had  been  behind  his  chair! 
How  far  be  might  have  gone.  Heaven  can 
tell,  if  that  excellent  young  gentleman,  his 
master,had  not  traced  him  here  this  morn- 
ing ;  but  you'll  pay  dearly  for  it,  you 
young  rascal,  that  you  shall." 

"Colonel  Kamworth."  said  1.  drawing 
myself  proudly  up  (and,  1  confess,  exciting 
new  bursts  of  laughter) — "Colonel  Kam- 
worth, for  the  expressions  you  have  just 
applied  to  me.  a  heavy  reckoning  awaits 
you  ;  not,  however,  before  another  individ- 
ual now  present  shall  atone  for  the  insult 
he  has  dared  to  pass  npon  me"  Colonel 
Kamworth's   passion    at    this   declaration 


68 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


knew  no  bounds  ;  lie  cursed  and  swore  ab- 
solutely like  a  madman,  and  vowed  that 
transportation  for  life  would  be  a  mild  sen- 
tence for  such  an  iniquity. 

Waller  at  length,  wiping  the  tears  of 
laughter  from  his  eyes,  interposed  between 
the  colonel  and  his  victim,  and  begged 
that  I  might,  be  forgiven;  "For  indeed, 
my  dear  sir,"  said  he.  "  the  poor  fellow  is 
of  rather  respectable  parentage,  and  such 
is  his  taste  for  good  society,  that  he'd  run 
any  risk  to  be  among  his  betters,  although, 
as  in  the  present  case,  the  exposure  brings 
a  rather  heavy  retribution  ; — however,  let 
me  deal  with  him.  Come,  Henry,"  said 
he,  with  an  air  of  insufferable  superiority, 
"'take  my  tilbury  into  town,  and  wait  for 
me  at  the  George ;  I  shall  endeavor  to 
make  your  peace  with  my  excellent  friend, 
Colonel  Kamworth,  and  the  best  mode  you 
can  contribute  to  that  object,  is  to  let  us 
have  no  more  of  your  society." 

I  cannot  attempt  to  picture  my  rage  at 
these  words  ;  however,  escape  from  this 
diabolical  predicament  was  my  only  pres- 
ent object,  and  I  rushed  from  the  room, 
and  springing  into  the  tilbury  at  the  door, 
drove  down  the  avenue  at  the  rate  of  fifteen 
miles  per  hour,  amid  the  united  cheers. 
groans,  and*  yells  of  the  whole  servants'- 
hall,  who  seemed  to  enjoy  my  "  detection," 
more  even  than  their  betters.  Meditating 
vengeance,  sharp,  short,  and  decisive,  on 
Waller,  the  colonel,  and  every  one  else  in 
the  infernal  conspiracy  against  me — for  I 
utterly  forgot  every  vestige  of  our  agree- 
ment in  the  surprise  by  which  I  was  taken 
- — 1  reached  Cheltenham.  Unfortunately, 
I  had  no  friend  there  to  whose  manage- 
ment I  could  commit  the  bearing  of  a 
message,  and  was  obliged,  as  soon  as  I 
could  procure  suitable  costume,  to  hasten 
up  to  Coventry,  where  the  — th  dragoons 
were  then  quartered.  I  lost  no  time  in 
selecting  an  adviser,  and  taking  the  neces- 
sary steps  to  bring  Master  Waller  to  a 
reckoning;  and  on  the  third  morning  we 
again  reached  Cheltenham,  I  thirsting  for 
vengeance,  and  bursting  still  with  anger  ; 
not  so,  my  friend,  however,  who  never 
could  discuss  the  affair  with  common  grav- 
ity, and  even  ventured  every  now  and  then 
on  a  sly  allusion  to  my  yellow  shorts.  As 
we  passed  the  last  toll-bar,  a  traveling  car- 
riage came  whirling  by  with  four  horses  at 
a  tremendous  pace  ;  and  as  the  morning 
was  frosty,  and  the  sun  scarcely  risen,  the 
whole  team  were  smoking  and  steaming,  so 
as  to  be  half  invisible.  We  both  remarked 
on  the  precipitancy  of  the  party  ;  for  as 
our  own  pa.ee  was  considerable,  the  two 
vehicles  passed  like   lightning.     We   had 


scarcely  dressed,  and  ordered  breakfast, 
when  a  more  than  usual  bustle  in  the  yard 
called  us  to  the  window;  the  waiter,  who 
came  in  at  the  same  instant,  told  lis  that 
four  horses  were  ordered  out  to  pursue  a 
young  lady  who  had  eloped  that  morning 
with  an  officer. 

"  Ah,  our  friend  in  the  green  traveling 
chariot,  I'll  be  bound."  said  my  compan- 
ion ;  but  as  neither  of  us  knew  that  part 
of  the  country,  and  I  was  too  engrossed 
by  my  own  thoughts,  I  never  inquired 
further.  As  the  chaise  in  chase  drove 
round  to  the  door,  I  looked  to  see  what 
the  pursuer  was  like  ;  and  as  he  issued 
from  the  inn,  recognized  my  ci-devant 
host,  Colonel  Kamworth.  I  need  not  say 
my  vengeance  was  sated  at  once  ;  lie  had 
lost  his  daughter,  and  Waller  was  on  the 
road  to  be  married.  Apologies  and  expla- 
nations came  in  due  time  for  all  my  in- 
juries and  sufferings  ;  and  I  confess  the 
part  which  pleased  me  most  was,  that  I 
saw  no  more  of  Jack  for  a  considerable 
period  after  ;  he  started  for  the  Continent, 
where  he  has  lived  ever  since  on  a  small 
allowance  granted  by  his  father-in-law,  and 
never  paying  me  the  stipulated  sum,  as  I 
had  clearly  broken  the  compact. 

So  much  for  my  second  attempt  at  mat- 
rimony. One  would  suppose  that  such 
experience  should  be  deemed  sufficient  to 
show  that  my  talent  did  not  lie  in  that 
way.  And  here  I  must  rest  for  the  pres- 
ent, with  the  additional  confession,  that 
so  strong  was  the  memory  of  that  vile  ad- 
venture, that  I  refused  a  lucrative  appoint- 
ment under  Lord  Anglesey's  government, 
when  I  discovered  that  his  livery  included 
"yellow  plush  breeches;"  to  have  such 
souvenirs  flitting  around  and  about  me,  at 
dinner  and  elsewhere,  would  have  left  me 
without  a  pleasure  in  existence. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

DUBLIN — TOM   o'FLAHERTY — A  REMINISCENCE   OF   THE 
PENINSULA. 

Dear,  dirty  Dublin  ! — In  te  saluto — how 
many  excellent  things  might  he  said  of 
thee,  if,  unfortunately,  it  did  not  happen 
that  the  theme  is  an  old  one.  and  has  been 
much  better  sung  than  it  can  ever  now  be 
said.  With  thus  much  of  apology  for  no 
more  lengthened  panegyric,  let  me  beg  of 
my  reader,  if  he  be  conversant  with  that 
most  moving  melody — the  Groves  of  Blar- 
ney— to  hum  the  following  lines,  which  I 
heard  shortly  after  my  landing,  and  which 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


59 


well   express     my    own    feelings    for  the 
"  loved  spot." 

"Oh  !  Dublin,  sure,  there  is  no  doubtin', 

Beats  every  citj  upon  the  say ; 
'Tis  there  you'll  see  O'Connell  spouting, 

And  Lady  Morgan  making  "tay." 
For  'tis  the  capital  of  the  greatesl  nation, 

With  fines!  peasantry  on  a  fruitful  6od, 
Fighting  like  devils  for  conciliation, 

And  hating  each  other  for  the  l<>ve  of  God." 

Once  more,  then,  I  found  myself  in  the 
'•'most  car-drivingest  city,"  en  route  to 
join  on  the  expiration  of  my  leave.  Sim  e 
my  departure,  my  regiment  had  been 
ordered  to  Kilkenny,  that  sweet  city,  so 
famed  in  song  for  its  "  fire  without  smoke;" 
but  which,  were  its  character  in  any  way 
to  be  derived  from  its  past  or  present  rep- 
resentative, might  certainly,  with  more 
propriety,  reverse  the  epithet,  and  read 
"  snioke'witltout  fire."  My  last  communi- 
cation from  headquarters  was  full  of  noth- 
ing but  gay  doings.  Balls,  dinners,  dejeii- 
ners,  and  more  than  all,  private  theat  ri- 
cals,  seemed  to  occupy  the  entire  attention 
of  every  man  of  the  gallant  — th.  I  was 
earnestly  entreated  to  come,  without  wait- 
ing for  the  end  of  my  leave ;  that  several 
of  my. old  "parts  were  kept  open  for  me;" 
and  that,  in  fact,  the  "boys  of  Kilkenny" 
were  on  tiptoe  in  expectation  of  my  arrival, 
as  though  his  Majesty's  mail  were  to  con- 
vey a  Kean  or  a  Kemble.  I  shuddered  a 
little  as  I  read  this/and  recollected  '"my 
last  appearance  on  any  stage,"  little  antici- 
pating, at  the  moment,  that  my  next  was 
to  be  nearly  as  productive  of  the  ludicrous, 
as  time  and  my  "  Confessions  "  will  show. 
One  circumstance,  however,  gave  me  con- 
siderable pleasure.  It  was  this  :  I  took 
it  for  granted  that,  in  the  varied  and 
agreeable  occupations  which  so  pleasurable 
a  career  opened,  my  adventures  in  love 
would  escape  notice,  and  that  I  should 
avoid  the  merciless  raillery  my  two  failures, 
in  six  months,  might  reasonably  be  sup- 
posed to  call  forth.  I  therefore  wrote  a 
hurried  note  to  Curzon,  setting  forth  the 
great  interest  all  their  proceedings  had  for 
me,  and  assuring  him  that  my  stay  in  town 
should  be  as  short  as  possible,  for  that  I 
longed  once,  more  to  "strut  the  monarch 
of  the  boards,"  and  concluded  with  a  sly 
paragraph,  artfully  intended  to  act  as  a 
paratonnierre  to  the  gibes  and  jests  which 
I  dreaded,  by  endeavoring  to  make  light 
of  my  matrimonial  speculations.  The 
postscript  ran  somewhat  thus— "Glorious 
fun  have  I  had  since  we  met  ;  but  were  it 
not  that  my  good  angel  stood  by  me,  I 
should  write   these  hurried   lines  with  a 


wife  at    in-,   i  Ibow  :  but  luck,  that  ne 
yet  deserted,  ie  still   faithful   to  your  old 
friend,  II.  Lorbeqi  bb." 

My  reader  may  b  oppose — for  he  is  suffi- 
ciently behind  the  Bcenes  with  mi — with 
what.  Eeelings  1  penned  I  be  word  ;  yet 
anything  was  better  than  the  attack  1 
looked  forward  to  :  and  1  should  rather 
bare  changed  into  the  <  'ape  Rifle  <  iorps,  or 
any  other  army  of  martyrs,  than  meel  my 
mess  with  all  the  ridicule  my  late  proceed- 
ings exposed  me  to.  Eaving  disburdened 
im\  conscience  of  this  dread.  I  finished  my 
breakfast,  and  set  out  on  a  Btroll  through 
the  town. 

1  believe  it  is  Coleridge  who  somewhere 
says,  thai  to  I  ransmit  t  be  firsl  bright  and 
early  impressions  of  our  youth,  fresh  ami 
uninjured,  to  a  remote  period  of  life,  con- 
stitutes one  of  the  loftiest  prerogatives  of 
genius.  [f  this  be  true — and  I  am  QOl  i 
posed  to  dispute  it— what  a  gifted  people 
must  be  the  worthy  inhabitants  of  Dublin; 
for  I  scruple  not  to  affirm,  that  of  all  cities 
of  which  we  have  any  record  in  history, 
sacred  or  profane,  there  is  not  one  so  little* 
likely  to  disturb  the  tranquil  current  of 
such"  reminiscences.  "  As  it  was  of  old, 
so  it  is  now,"  enjoying  a  delightful  per- 
manency in  all  its  habits  and  customs 
which  no  changes  elsewhere  disturb  or 
affect ;  and  in  this  repect  1  defy  O'Connell 
and  all  the  tail  to  refuse  it  the  epithet  of 
"  Conservative." 

Had  the  excellent  Rip  Van  Winkle,  in- 
stead of  seeking  his  repose  upon  the  cold 
and  barren  acclivities  of  the  Kaatskills — 
as  we  are  veritably  informed  by  Irving — 
but  betaken  himself  to  a  comfortable  Bed 
at  Morrison's  or  the  Bilton,  not  only 
would  he  have  enjoyed  a  more  agreeable 
siesta,  but,  what  the  event  showed  of  more 
consequence,  the  pleasing  satisfaction  of 
not  being  disconcerted  by  novelty  on  his 
awakening.  It  is  possible  that  the  waiter 
who  brought  him  the  water  to  shave — for 
Rip's  beard,  we  are  told,  had  grown  un- 
commonly long — might  exhibit  a  little  of 
that  wear  and  tear  to  which  humanity  is 
liable  from  tune  :  but  had  he  questioned 
him  as  to  the  ruling  topics— the  popular 
amusements  of  the  day— he  would  have 
heard,  as  he  might  have  done  twenty  years 
before,  that  there  was  a  meeting  to  convert 
Jews  at  the  Rotunda  :  another  to  rob  par- 
sons at  the  Corn  Exchange;  that  the 
Viceroy  was  dining  with  the  Corporation, 
and  congratulating  them  on  the  prosperity 
of  Ireland,  while  the  inhabitants  were  re- 
galed with  a  procession  of  the  "  broad  rib- 
bon weavers,"  who  had  not  weavecL 
Heaven  knows  when  !    This,  with  an  occa 


60 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


sional  letter  from  Mr.  O'Connell,  and  now 
and  then  a  duel  in  the  "  Phaynix,"  consti- 
tuted the  current  pastimes  of  the  city. 
Such,  at  least,  were  they  in  my  day  ;  and, 
though  far  from  the  dear  locale,  an  odd 
flitting  glance  at  the  newspapers  induces 
me  to  believe  that  matters  are  not  much 
changed  since. 

I  rambled  through  the  streets  for  some 
hours,  revolving  such  thoughts  as  pressed 
upon  me  involuntarily  by  all  I  saw.  The 
same  little  grey  homunculns  that  filled  my 
"  Prince's  mixture  "  years  before,  stood  be- 
hind the  counter  at  Lundy  Foot's,  weigh- 
ing out  rappee  and  high  toast,  just  as  I 
last  saw  him.  The  fat  college  porter,  that 
I  used  to  mistake  in  my  schoolboy  days  for 
the  Provost,  God  forgive  me  !  was  there  as 
•fat  and  ruddy  as  heretofore,  and  wore  his 
Roman  costume  of  helmet  and  plush 
breeches,  with  an  air  as  classic.  The  State 
trumpeter  at  the  castle,  another  object  of 
my  youthful  veneration,  poor  "old  God 
save  the  King"  as  we  used  to  call  him, 
walked  the  streets  as  of  old  ;  his  cheeks, 
indeed,  a  little  more  lanky  and  tendinous; 
but  then  there  had  been  many  viceregal 
changes,  and  the  "one  sole  melody  his 
heart  delighted  in "  had  been  more  fre- 
quently called  into  requisition,  as  he 
marched  in  solemn  state  with  the  other  an- 
tique gentlemen  in  tabards.  As  I  walked 
along,  each  moment  some  familiar  and 
early  association  being  suggested  by  the 
objects  around,  I  felt  my  arm  suddenly 
seized.  I  turned  hastily  round,  and  be- 
held a  very  old  companion  in  many  a  hard- 
fought  field  and  merry  bivouac,  Tom  0'- 
Flahcrty  of  the  8th.  Poor  Tom  was  sadly 
changed  since  we  last  met,  which  was  at  a 
ball  in  Madrid.  He  was  then  one  of  the 
best-looking  fellows  of  his  stamp  I  ever 
met,  tall  and  athletic,  with  the  easy  bear- 
ing of  a  man  of  the  world,  and  a  certain 
jauntiness  that  I  have  never  seen  but  in 
Irishmen  who  have  mixed  much  in  society. 

There  was  also  a  certain  peculiar  devil- 
may-care  recklessness  about  the  self-satis- 
fied swagger  of  his  gait,  and  the  free-and- 
easy  glance  of  his  sharp  black  eye,  united 
with  atemperthat  nothing  could  ruffle,  and 
a  courage  nothing  conld  daunt.  With 
such  qualities  as  these,  he  had  been  the 
prime  favorite  of  his  mess,  to  which  he 
never  came  without  some  droll  story  to  re- 
late, or  some  choice  expedient  for  future 
amusement.  Such  had  Tom  once  been  : 
now  he  was  much  altered,  and  though  the 
quiet  twinkle  of  his  dark  eye  showed  that 
the  spirit  of  fun  within  was  not  "  dead,  but 
only  sleeping,"  to  myself  who  knew  some- 
thing of  his  history,  it  seemed  almost  cruel 


to  awaken  him  to  anything  which  might 
bring  him  back  to  the  memory  of  bygone 
days.  A  momentary  glance  showed  me 
that  he  was  no  longer  what  he  had  been, 
and  that  the  unfortunate  change  in  his  con 
dition,  the  loss  of  all  his  earliest  and  oldest 
associates,  and  his  blighted  prospects,  had 
nearly  broken  a  heart  that  never  deserted  a 
friend  nor  quailed  before  an  enemy.  Poor 
0' Flaherty  was  no  longer  the  delight  of  the 
circle  he  once  adorned  ;  the  wit  that  "set 
the  table  in  a  roar"  was  all  but  departed, 
lie  had  been  dismissed  the  service  ! !  The 
story  is  a  brief  one  : 

In  a  retreat  from  Burgos,  the  — th  Light 
Dragoons,  after  a  fatiguing  day's  march, 
halted  at  the  wretched  village  of  Cabenas. 
It  had  been  deserted  by  the  inhabitants  the 
day  before,  who,  on  leaving,  had  set  it  on 
fire,  and  the  blackened  walls  and  fallen 
roof-trees  were  nearly  all  that  now  remain- 
ed to  show  where  the  little  hamlet  had  once 
stood. 

Amid  a  downpour  of  rain,  that  had  fallen 
for  several  hours,  drenched  to  the  skin, 
cold,  weary,  and  nearly  starving,  the  gal- 
lant 8th  reached  this  melancholy  spot  at 
nightfall,  with  little  better  prospect  of  pro- 
tection from  the  storm  than  the  barren 
heath  through  which  their  road  led  hiight 
afford  them.  Among  the  many  who  mut- 
tered curses,  not  loud  but  deep,  on  the 
wretched  termination  to  their  day's  suffer- 
ing, there  was  one  who  kept  up  his  usual 
good  spirits,  and  not  only  seemed  himself 
nearly  regardless  of  the  privations  and  mis- 
eries about  him,  but  actually  succeeded  in 
making  the  others  who  rode  alongside  as 
perfectly  forgetful  of  their  annoyances  and 
troubles  as  was  possible  under  such  circum- 
stances. Good  stories,  joking  allusions  to 
the  more  discontented  ones  of  the  party, 
ridiculous  plans  for  the  night's  encamp- 
ments, followed  each  other  so  rapidly,  that 
the  weariness  of  the  way  was  forgotten  ; 
and  while  some  were  cursing  their  hard 
fate  that  ever  betrayed  them  into  such  mis- 
fortunes, the  little  group  round  O'Flaherty 
were  almost  convulsed  with  laughter  at  the 
wit  and  drollery  of  one  over  whom,  if  the 
circumstances  had  any  influence,  they 
seemed  only  to  heighten  his  passion  for 
amusement.  In  the  early  part  of  the 
morning  he  had  captured  a  turkey,  which 
hung  gracefully  from  his  holster  on  one 
side,  while  a  small  goat-skin  of  Valencia 
wine  balanced  it  on  the  other.  These  good 
things  were  destined  to  form  a  feast  that 
evi  ning  to  which  he  had  invited  four  others 
— that  being,  according  to  his  most  liberal 
calculation,  the  greatest  number  to  whom 
he  could  afford  a  reasonable  supply  of  wine. 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


61 


"When  the  halt  was  made,  it  took  Borne 
time  to  arrange  the  dispositions  for  the 
night,  and  it,  was  nearly  midnight  before  all 
the  regiment  had  gol  their  billets  and  were 

housed,  even  wii h  such  scanty  accommoda- 
tion as  the  place  afforded.  Tom's  guests 
had  not  yet  arrived,  and  be  himself  was 
busily  engaged  in  roasting  the  turkey  be- 
fore a  large  lire,  on  which  stood  a  capacious 
vessel  of  spiced  wine,  when  the  party  ap- 
peared. A  very  cursory  "  reconnaissance  " 
through  the  house — one  of  the  only  ones 
untouched  in  the  village — showed  that  from 
the  late  rain  it  would  be  impossible  to  think 
of  sleeping  in  the  lower  story,  which  al- 
ready showed  signs  of  being  flooded  ;  they 
therefore  proceeded  in  a  body  upstairs,  and 
what  was  their  delight  to  find  a  most  com- 
fortable room,  neatly  furnished  with  chairs 
and  a  table  ;  but,  above  all,  a  large  old- 
fashioned  bed,  an  object  of  such  luxury  as 
only  an  old  campaigner  can  duly  appreciate. 
The  curtains  were  closely  tucked  in  all 
round,  and,  in  their  fleeting  and.  hurried 
glance,  they  felt  no  inclination  to  disturb 
them,  and  rather  proceeded  to  draw  up  the 
table  before  the  hearth,  to  which  they 
specdly  removed  the  lire  from  below,  and, 
ere  many  minutes,  with  that  activity  which 
a  bivouac  life  invariably  teaches,  their  sup- 
per smoked  before  them,  and  five  happier 
fellows  did  not  sit  down  that  night  within 
a  large  circuit  around.  Tom  was  unusu- 
ally great  ;  stores  of  drollery,  unlocked  be- 
fore, poured  from  him  unceasingly,  and, 
what  with  his  high  spirits  to  excite  them, 
and  the  reaction  inevitable  after  a  hard 
day's  severe  march,  the  party  soon  lost 
the  little  reason  that  usually  sufficed  to 
guide  them,  and  became  as  pleasantly  tipsy 
as  can  well  bo  conceived.  However,  all 
good  things  must  have  an  end,  and  so  had 
the  wine-skin.  Tom  had  placed  it  affec- 
tionately under  his  arm  like  a  bagpipe, 
and  failed,  with  even  a  most  energetic 
squeeze,  to  extract  a  drop.  There  was 
now  nothing  for  it  but  to  go  to  rest,  and, 
indeed,  it  seemed  a  most  prudent  thing 
for  the  party. 

The  bed  became  accordingly  a  subject  of 
grave  deliberation  :  for  as  it  could  only 
hold  two,  and  the  party  were  five,  there 
seemed  some  difficulty  in  submitting  their 
chances  to  lot.  which  all  agreed  was  the 
fairest  way.  While  this  was  under  dis- 
cussion, one  of  the  party  had  approached 
the  contested  prize,  and,  drawing  aside 
the  curtains,  proceeded  to  jump  in,  when, 
what  was  bis  astonishment  to  discover  that 
it  was  already  occupied  !  The  exclama- 
tion of  surprise  he  gave  forth  soon  brought 
the  others  to  his  side,  and  to  their  horror, 


drunk  as  they  were,  they  found  thai  the 

body  before  t  In  in   was  I  hat   of   a  d(  ail  loan. 

arrayed  in  all  the  ghastl)  pomp  of  a 
corpse.  A  little  nearer  inspection  showed 
thai  lie  had  been  a  priest,  probably  the 
padre  of  the  village  ;  on  hi-  head  he  had 
a  small  velvet  skull-cap,  embroidered  with 

a    cross,  ami     his     body    Was    .-Wat  lied    in    a 

vesl ment,  such  as  priests   usually  wear  al 

the  mass;  in  his  hand  he  held  a  large  wax- 
taper,   which  appeared   to    have  burn 

half  down,  ami  probably  been  extinguished 

by  the  current  of  air  on  opening  tin-  dun;-. 
After  I  he  first  brief  shock  which  thi 
den  apparition  had  caused,  the  party  re- 
covered as  much  of  their  as  the 
wine  had  left  them,  and  proceeded  to  dis- 
CUSS  what  was  to  he  done  under  t  hi 
eumstances  ;  for  not  one  of  them  ever  con- 
templated giving  up  a  bed  to  a  iif,>:[ 
priest,  while  five  living  men  slept  on  the 
ground.  After  much  altercation,  O'Fla- 
herty  who  had  hitherto  listened  without 
speaking,  interrupted  the  contending  par- 
ties, saying,  "Stop,  lads,  1  have  it."' 

"Come,"  said  one  of  them,  "let  us 
hear  Tom's  proposal."' 

"Oh," said  he,  with  difficulty  steadying 
himself  while  he  spoke,  "  we'll  put  him  to 
bed  with  old  Ridgeway,  the  quartermas- 
ter ! " 

The  roar  of  loud  laughter  that  followed 
Tom's  device  was  renewed  again  and  again, 
till  not  a  man  could  speak  from  absolute 
fatigue.  There  was  not  a  dissentient 
voice.  Old  Ridgeway  was  hated  in  the 
corps,  and  a  better  way  of  disposing  of  the 
priest,  and  paying  off  the  quartermaster, 
could  not  be  thought  of. 

Very  little  time  sufficed  for  their  prepa- 
rations ;  and' if  they  bad  been  brought  up 
under  a  certain  well-known  duke,  they 
could  not  have  exhibited  a  greater  taste 
for  a  "  black  job."  The  door  of  the  room 
was  quickly  taken  from  its  binges,  and  the 
priest  placed  upon  it  at  full  length  ;  a  mo- 
ment more  sufficed  to  lift  the  door  upon 
their  shoulders,  and,  preceded  by  Tom. 
who  lit  a  candle  in  honor  of  being,  as  he 
said,  "chief  mourner,"  they  took  their 
way  through  the  camp  towards  Ridgeway's 
quarters.  When  they  reached  the  hut 
where  their  victim  lay.  Tom  ordered  a 
halt,  and  proceeded  stealthily  into  the 
house  to  '"  reconnaitre."  The  old  quarter- 
master he  found  stretched  on  bis  sheep- 
skin before  a  large  fire,  the  remnants  of 
an  ample  supper  strewed  about  him,  and 
two  empty  bottles  standing  on  the  hearth: 
Ins  deep  snoring  showed  that  all  was  safe, 
and  that  no  fears  of  his  awaking  need  dis- 
turb them.     His  shako  and  sword  lay  near 


62 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


him,  but  his  sabretasche  was  under  his 
head.  Tom  carefully  withdrew  the  two 
former,  and,  hastening  to  his  friends  with- 
out, proceeded  to  decorate  the  priest  with 
them,  expressing,  at  the  same  time,  con- 
siderable regret  that  he  feared  it  might 
wake  Ridgeway  if  he  were  to  put  the  vel- 
vet skull-cap  on  him  for  a  night-cap. 

Noiselessly  and  stealthily  they  now  en- 
tered, and  proceeded  to  put  down  their 
burden,  which,  after  a  moment's  discus- 
sion, they  agreed  to  place  between  the 
quartermaster  and  the  lire,  of  which  hith- 
erto he  had  reaped  ample  benefit.  This 
done,  they  quietly  retreated,  and  hurried 
back  to  their  quarters,  unable  to  speak 
with  laughter  at  the  success  of  their  plot, 
and  their  anticipation  of  Ridgeway's  rage 
on  awakening  in  the  morning. 

It  was  in  the  dim  twilight  of  a  hazy 
morning,  that  the  bugler  of  the  8th  aroused 
the  sleeping  soldiers  from  their  miserable 
couches,  which,  wretched  as  they  were, 
they  nevertheless  rose  from  reluctantly,  so 
wearied  and  fatigued  had  they  been  by 
the  preceding  day's  march.  Not  one 
among  the  number  felt  so  indisposed  to 
stir  as  the  worthy  quartermaster  ;  his  pe- 
culiar avocations  had  demanded  a  more 
than  usual  exertion  on  his  part,  and  in  the 
posture  he  had  lain  down  at  night  he 
rested  till  morning,  without  stirring  a 
limb.  Twice  the  reveille  had  rung  through 
the  little  encampment,  and  twice  the  quar- 
termaster had  essayed  to  open  his  eyes, 
but  in  vain  ;  at  last  he  made  a  tremendous 
effort,  and  sat  bolt  upright  on  the  floor, 
hoping  that  the  sudden  effort  might  suffi- 
ciently arouse  him  ;  slowly  his  eyes  open- 
ed, and  the  first  thing  they  beheld  was  the 
figure  of  the  dead  priest,  with  a  light  cav- 
alry helmet  on  his  head,  seated  before  him. 
Ridgeway,  who  was  a  good  Catholic,  trem- 
bled in  every  joint — it  might  be  a  ghost,  it 
might  be  a  warning,  he  knew  not  what  to 
think  ;  he  imagined  the  lips  moved,  and 
so  overcome  with  terror  was  he  at  last,  that 
he  absolutely  shouted  like  a  maniac,  and 
never  ceased  till  the  hut  was  filled  with 
officers  and  men,  who,  hearing  the  uproar, 
ran  to  his  aid.  The  surprise  of  the  poor 
quartermaster  at  the  apparition  was  scarce- 
ly greater  than  that  of  the  beholders.  No 
one  was  able  to  afford  any  explanation  of 
the  circumstance,  though  all  were  assured 
that  it  must  have  been  done  in  jest.  The 
door  upon  which  the  priest  had  been  con- 
veyed afforded  the  clue — they  had  forgot- 
ten to  restore  it  to  its  place.  Accordingly 
the  different  billets  were  examined,  and  at 
last  O'Flaherty  was  discovered  in  a  most 
commodious  bed,  in  a  large  room  without 


a  door,  still  fast  as/eep,  and  alone  :  how 
and  when  he  had  parted  from  his  compan- 
ions he  never  could  precisely  .explain, 
though  he  has  since  confessed  it  was  part 
of  his  scheme  to  lead  them  astray  in  the 
village,  and  thru  retire  to  the  bed,  which 
he  had  determined  to  appropriate  to  his 
sole  use. 

Old  Ridgeway's  rage  knew  no  bounds  ; 
he  absolutely  foamed  with  passion,  and  in 
proportion  as  he  was  laughed  at  his  choler 
rose  higher.  Had  this  been  the  only  re- 
sult, it  had  been  well  for  poor  Tom,  but 
unfortunately  the  affair  got  to  be  rumored 
through  the  country — the  inhabitants  of 
the  village  learned  the  indignity  with 
which  the  padre  had  been  treated  ;  they 
addressed  a  memorial  to  Lord  Wellington 
— inquiry  was  immediately  instituted — 
O'Flaherty  was  tried  by  court-martial,  and 
found  guilty  ;  nothing  short  of  the  heavi- 
est punishment  that  could  be  inflicted 
under  the  circumstances  would  satisfy  the 
Spaniards,  and  at  that  precise  period  it 
was  part  of  our  policy  to  conciliate  their 
esteem  by  every  means  in  our  power.  The 
commander-in-chief  resolved  to  make  what 
he  called  an  "example,"  and  poor  O'Fla- 
herty— the  life  and  soul  of  his  regiment — 
the  darling  of  his  mess — was  broke,  and 
pronounced  incapable  of  ever  serving  his 
Majesty  again.  Such  was  the  event  upon 
which  my  poor  friend's  fortune  in  life 
seemed  to  hinge.  He  returned  to  Ireland, 
if  not  entirely  broken-hearted,  so  altered 
that  his  best  friends  scarcely  knew  him — 
his  "occupation  was  gone;"  the  mess  had 
been  his  home  ;  his  brother  officers  were 
to  him  in  place  of  relatives,  and  he  had 
lost  all.  His  after-life  was  spent  in  ram- 
bling from  one  watering-place  to  another, 
more  with  the  air  of  one  who  seeks  to  con- 
sume than  enjoy  his  time  ;  and  with  such 
a  change  in  appearance  as  the  alteration 
in  his  fortune  had  effected,  he  now  stood 
before  me,  but  altogether  so  different  a 
man,  that  but  for  the  well-known  tones  of 
a  voice  that  had  often  convulsed  me  with 
laughter,  I  should  scarcely  have  recognized 
him. 

"  Lorrequer.  my  old  friend,  I  never 
thought  of  seeing  you  here — this  is  indeed 
a  piece  of  good  luck." 

"  Why,  Tom  ?  You  surely  knew  that 
the  4 — th  were  in  Ireland,  didn't  you  ?" 

"To. be  sure.  I  dined  with  them  only 
a  few  days  ago,  but  they  told  me  you  were 
off  to  Paris,  to  marry  something  superla- 
tively beautiful,  and  most  enormously  rich 
— the  daughter  of  a  duke,  if  I  remember 
right  ;  but  certes,  they  said  your  fortune 
was  made,  and  I  need  not  tell  you  there 


HARRY  LORREQURR. 


63 


was  not  a  man  among  them  he!  in-  pleased 
than  I  was  to  hear  it." 

"Oh  !  they  said  so,  did  they  ?  Droll 
dogs — always  quizzing — I  wonder  you  did 
not  perceive  the  hoax  eh  very  good,  was 
it  not  ? "  This  1  poured  out  in  shorl 
broken  sentences,  blushing  like  scarlet,  and 
fidgeting  like  a  schoolgirl  with  downrighl 
nervousness. 

"  A  hoax  !  Devilish  well  done,  too," 
said  Tom,  "for  old  Carden  believed  the 
whole  story,  and  told  me  that  he  had  ob- 
tained a  six  months'  Leave  for  you  to  make 
your  cour,  and,  moreover,  said  that  he  had 
got  a  letter  from  the  nobleman,  Lord — 
Confound  his  name  ! " 

"Lord  Grey,  is  it?"  said  I,  with  a  sly 
look  at  Tom. 

"No,  my  deai-  friend,"  said  ho  drily, 
"it  was  not  Lord  Grey.  But  to  continue: 
ho  had  got  a  letter  from  him,  dated 
from  Paris,  stating  his  surprise  that  you 
have  never  joined  them  there,  accord- 
ing to  promise,  and  that  .  they  '  knew 
your  cousin  Guy,  and  a  great  deal  of 
other  matter  I  can't  remember — so  what 
does  all  this  mean  ?  Did  you  hoax  the 
noble  lord  as  well  as  the  Horse  Guards, 
Harry  ?  " 

This  was  indeed  a  piece  of  news  for  me  ; 
I  stammered  out  some  ridiculous  explana- 
tion, and  promised  a  fuller  detail.  Could 
it  be  that  I  had  done  the  Callonbys  injus- 
tice, and  that  they  never  intended  to  break 
off  my  intentions  to  Lady  Jane — that  she 
was  still  faithful,  and  that  of  all  concerned 
I  alone  had  been  to  blame  ?  Oh  !  how  I 
hoped  this  might  be  the  case  ;  heavily  as 
my  conscience  might  accuse.  I  longed  ar- 
dently to  forgive  and  deal  mercifully  with 
myself.  Tom  continued  to  talk  about  in- 
different matters,  as  these  thoughts  flitted 
through  my  mind  ;  perceiving  at  last  that 
I  did  not  attend,  he  stopped  suddenly,  and 
said, —  * 

"  Harry,  I  see  clearly  that  something  has 
gone  wrong,  and  perhaps  I  can  guess  at 
the  mode,  too  :  but,  however,  you  can  do 
nothing  about  it  now  ;  come  and  dine  with 
me  to-day,  and  we'll  discuss  the  affair  to- 
gether after  dinner  ;  or,  if  you  prefer  a 
'distraction,'  as  we  used  to  say  in  Dun- 
kerque,  why  then  I'll  arrange  something 
fashionable  for  your  evening's  amusement. 
Come,  what  say  you  to  hearing  Father 
Keogh  preaoh  ?  or  would  you  like  a  supper 
at  the  Carlingford?  or  perhaps  you  prefer 
a  soiree  chez  Miladi? — for  all  of  these 
Dublin  affords — all  three  good  in  their 
way,  and  very  intellectual." 

"  Well,  Tom,  I'm  yours  ;  but  I  should 
prefer  your  dining  with  me;  I  am  at  Bil- 


ton's  :  we'll  have  our  cutlet    quite   alone. 
and " 

*•  And  l»e  heafi  i  h  3icl<  of  each  other,  yon 
were  going   t<>  ada.     No.no.    Barry,  you 
tnusl  dine  wit h  me  :  I  have  3ome  remark- 
ably nice  people  to  presenl    you    to    six  is 
ilp-  hour — sharp  six — number  — .    .V 
worth    Street,    Mrs.    Clanfrizzle's,— easily 
End  it   -large  fanlight  orer  the  door — huge 
lamp  in  the  hall,  and  a  i\  rong  odor  of  i 
ton  broth  for  thirty  yards  on  each   side  of 
i  he  premises — and,  as  good  luck  will  have 
it,  I   see  old    Daly,  the  counselor,  as  they 
call  him  ;  he's  t  he  very  man  to  gel  ti 
you — you  always  liked  ;i  character,  eh  ?" 

Sa\  ing  this,  ( >'  Flaherty  disengaged  him- 
self from  my  arm,  and  hurried  across  the 
street  towards  a  portly,  middle-aged  look- 
ing gentleman,  with  the  reddesl  ft  I 
ever  beheld.  After  a  brief  but  very  ani- 
mated colloquy,  Tom  returned,  ami  in- 
formed me  that  all  was  righl  ;  he  had  se- 
cured Daly. 

"And  who  is  Daly?"  said  I,  inquir- 
ingly, for  1  was  rather  interested  in  hear- 
ing what  peculiar  qualification  as  a  diner- 
out  the  counselor  mighl  lay  claim  to.  many 
of  Tom's  friends  being  as  remarkable  for 
being  the  quizzed  as  the  quizzers. 

"Daly,"  said  he,  "is  the  brother 
most  distinguished  member  of  the  [rish 
bar,  of  which  he  himself  is  also  a  follower, 
bearing,  however,  no  other  resemblance  to 
the  clever  man  than  the  name,  for,  as  as- 
suredly as  the  reputation  of  the  one  is  in- 
separably linked  with  success,  so  unerring- 
ly is  the  other's  coupled  with  failure  :  and, 
strange  to  say.  the  stupid  man  is  fairly 
convinced  that  his  brother  owes  all  his  ad- 
vancement to  him.  and  that  to  his  disin- 
terested kindness  the  other  is  indebted  for 
his  present  exalted  station.  Thus  it  is 
through  life;  there  seems  ever  to  accom- 
pany dulness  a.  sustaining  power  of  vanity, 
that,  like  a  life-buoy,  keeps  a  mass  afloat 
whose  weight  unassisted  would  sink  into 
obscurity."  Do  you  know  that  my  friend 
Denis,  there,  imagines  himself  the  first 
man  that  ever  enlightened  Sir  Robert  Peel 
as  to  Irish  affairs  ;  and.  upon  my  word,  his 
reputation  on  this  head  stands  mconi 
bly  higher  than  on  most  others." 

"You  surely  cannot  mean  that  Sir  Rob- 
ert Peel  ever  consulted  with,  much  less 
relied  upon,  the  statements  of  such  a  per- 
son as  you  describe  your  friend  Denis  to 
be  ?  " 

"He  did  both— and  if  he  was  a  little 
puzzled  by  the  information,  the  only  dis- 
grace attaches  to  a  government  that  sends 
men  to  rule  over  us  unacquainted  with  our 
habits  of  thinking,  and  utterly  ignorant  of 


64 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


the  language — ay,  i  repeat  it.  But  come, 
you  shall  judge  for  yourself  ;  the  story  is  a 
short  one,  and  fortunately  so,  for  I  musi 
hasten  home  to  give  timely  notice  of  your 
coming  to  di  ;e  with  me.  When  Sir  Rob- 
ert Peel,  then  Mr.  Peel,  came  over  her,e,  as 
secretary  to  Ireland,  a  very  distinguished 
political  leader  of  the  day  invited  a  party 
to  meet  him  at  dinner,  consisting  of  men 
of  different  political  leanings,  among  whom 
were,  as  may  be  supposed,  many  members 
of  the  Irish  bar.  The  elder  Daly  was  too 
remarkable  a  person  to  be  omitted,  but  as 
the  two  brothers  resided  together,  there 
was  a  difficulty  about  getting  him  ;  how- 
ever, he  must  be  had,  and  the  only  alter- 
native that  presented  itself  was  adopted — 
both  were  invited.  When  the  party  de- 
scended to  the  dining-room,  by  one  of  those 
unfortunate  accidents  which,  as  the  prov- 
erb informs  us,  occasionally  take  place  in 
the  best  regulated  establishments,  the 
wrong  Mr.  Daly  got  placed  beside  Mr. 
Peel,  which  post  of  honor  had  been  des- 
tined by  the  host  for  the  more  agreeable 
and  talented  brother.  There  was  now  no 
help  for  it ;  and  with  a  heart  somewhat 
nervous  for  the  consequences  of  the  prox- 
imity, the  worthy  entertainer  sat  down  to 
do  the  honors  as  best  he  might  ;  he  was 
consoled  during  dinner  by  observing  that 
the  devotion  bestowed  by  honest  Denis  on 
the  viands  before  him  eifectually  absorbed 
his  faculties,  and  thereby  threw  the  entire 
of  Mr.  Peel's  conversation  towards  the 
gentleman  on  his  other  flank.  This  hap- 
piness was,  like  most  others,  destined  to 
be  a  brief  one.  As  the  dessert  made  its 
appearance,  Mr.  Peel  began  to  listen  with 
.some  attention  to  the  conversation  of  the 
persons  opposite,  with  one  of  whom  he 
was  struck  most  forcibly — so  happy  a 
power  of  illustration,  so  vivid  a  fancy, 
such  logical  precision  in  argument  as  he 
evinced,  perfectly  charmed  and  surprised 
him.  Anxious  to  learn  the  name  of  so 
gifted  an  individual,  he  turned  towards 
his  hitherto  silent  neighbor,  and  demanded 
who  he  was. 

" '  AVho  is  he,  is  it  ?'  said  Denis,  hesitat- 
ingly, as  if  he  half  doubted  such  extent  of 
ignorance  as  not  to  know  the  person  allud- 
ed to. 

"Mr.  Peel  bowed  in  acquiescence. 

"  '  That's  Bushe  ! '  said  Denis,  giving  at 
\Jie  same  time  the  same  sound  to  the  vowel 
u  as  it  obtains  when  occurring  in  the  word 
'rush.' 

"'I  beg  pardon,'  said  Mr.  Peel,  '  I  did 
not  hear.' 

"  '  Bushe  ! '  replied  Denis,  with  consid- 
erable energy  of  tone. 


"  '  Oh,  yes  !  I  know,' said  the  secretary, 
'Mr.  Bushe,  a  very  distinguished  member 
of  your  bar.  I  have  heard." 

"  '  Faith,  you  may  say  that  !'  said  Denis, 
tossing  off  his  wine  at  what  he  esteemed  a 
very  trite  observal  Ion. 

"'Pray,'  said  Mr.  Peel,  again  returning 
to  the  charge,  though  certainly  feeling  not 
a  little  surprised  at  the  singular  laconicism 
of  his  informant,  no  less  than  the  melli- 
fluous tones  of  an  accent  then  perfectly 
new  to  him — 'pray,  may  I  ask,  what  is 
the  peculiar  character  of  Mr.  Bushe's  elo- 
quence— I  mean,  of  course,  in  his  profes- 
sional capacity  ?' 

"'Eli!*  said  Denis,  'I  don't  compre- 
hend you  exactly.' 

"  '  I  mean,'  said  Mr.  Peel,  'in  one  word. 
what's  his  forte  ?' 

'•'His  forte!' 

"  '  I  mean  what  his  peculiar  gift  con- 
sists in ' 

"  '  Oh,  I  perceave — I  have  ye  now — the 
juries  !' 

"  'Ah  !  addressing  a  jury.' 

"  'Ay,  the  juries.' 

"  'Can  you  oblige  me  by  giving  me  an 
idea  of  the  manner  in  which  he  obtains 
such  signal  success  in  this  difficult  branch 
of  eloquence  ?' 

"'I'll  tell  ye,'  said  Denis,  leisurely 
finishing  his  glass  and  smacking  his  lips, 
with  the  air  of  a  man  girding  up  his  loins 
for  a  mighty  effort — '  I'll  tell  ye.  Well, 
ye  .see  the  way  he  has  is  this,' — here  Mr. 
Peel's  expectation  rose  to  the  highest 
degree  of  interest, — 'the  way  he  has  is 
this — he  first  butthers  them  up,  and  then 
slithers  them  down! — that's  all,  devil  a 
more  of  a  secret  there's  in  it.'" 

How  much  reason  Denis  had  to  boast 
of  imparting  early  information  to  the  new 
secretary  I  leave  my  English  readers  to 
guess  ;  my  Irish  ones  I  may  trust  to  do 
him  ample  justice. 

My  friend  now  left  me  to  my  own  devices 
to  while  away  the  hours  till  time  to  dress 
for  dinner.  Heaven  help  the  gentleman 
so  left  in  Dublin,  say  I.  It  is,  perhaps, 
the  only  city  of  its  size  in  the  world  where 
there  is  no  lounge — no  promenade.  Very 
little  experience  of  it  will  convince  you 
that  it  abounds  in  pretty  women,  and  has 
its  fair  share  of  agreeable  men  :  but  where 
are  they  in  the  morning  ?  I  wish  Sir  Dick 
Lauder,  instead  of  speculating  where  sal- 
mon pass  the  Christmas  holidays,  would 
apply  his  most  inquiring  mind  to  such  a 
question  as  this.  True  it  is,  however. 
they  are  not  to  be  found.  The  squares  are 
deserted — the  streets  are  very  nearly  so — 
and  all  that  is  left  to  the  luckless  wanderer- 


♦COLONEL  KAMWORTH,"    SAID   I,    DRAWING    MYSELF   PROUDLY   UP,    "FOR   THE  EXPRESSIONS 
YOU   HAVE   JUST   APPLIED   TO    ME,    A   HEAVY   RECKONING   AWAITS   YOU."       (P.  57.) 


HA  KR  Y.  L  ORREQ I  ER. 


65 


in  search  of  the  beautiful,  is  to  ogle  the 
beauties  of  Dame  Street,  who  are  shop- 
keepers in  Grafton  Street,  or  the  beauties 
of  Grafton  Street,  who  are  shopkeepers  in 
Dame  Street.  But,  confound  it,  how 
cranky  I  am  getting — I  must  be  tremend- 
ously hungry.  True,  it'-'  pasl  -i\.  So 
now  for  my  suit  of  sable,  and  then  to  din- 
ner. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

DUBLIN — THE   BOARDIXG-H0USE — SELECT  SOCIETY. 

Punctual  to  my  appointment  with 
O'Flaherty,  1  found  myself,  a  very  few  min- 
utes after  six  o'clock,  at  Mrs.  Oianfrizzle's 
door.  My  very  authoritative  summons  at 
the  bell  was  answered  by  the  appearance  of 
a  young,  pale-faced  invalid,  in  a  suit  of  | 
livery,  the  taste  of  which  bore  a  very  un- 
pleasant resemblance  to  the  one  I  so  lately 
figuredin.  It  was  with' considerable  difficul- 
ty I  persuaded  this  functionary  to  permit 
my  carrying  my  hat  with  me  to  the  draw- 
ing-room, a  species  of  caution  on  my  part, 
as  he  esteemed  it,  savoring  much  of  dis- 
trust. This  point,  however,  I  carried,  and 
followed  him  up  a  very  ill-lighted  stair  to 
the  drawing-room.  Here  I  was  announced 
by  some  faint  resemblance  to  my  real  name, 
but  sufficiently  near  to  bring  my  friend 
Tom  at  once  to  meet  me,  who  immediately 
congratulated  me  on  my  fortune  in  coming 
off  so  well,  for  that  the  person  who  pre- 
ceded me,  Mr.  Jones  Blennerhasset,  had 
been  just  announced  as  Mr.  Blatherhashit 
— a  change  the  gentleman  himself  was  not 
disposed  to  adopt.  "  But  come  along, 
Harry;  while  we  are  waiting  for  Daly,  let 
me  make  you  known  to  some  of  our  party. 
This,  you  must  know,  is  a  boarding-house, 
and  always  has  some  capital  fan — queerest 
people  you  ever  met — I  have  only  one  hint 
— cut  every  man,  woman,  and  child  of 
them,  if  you  meet  them  hereafter  ;  I  do  it 
myself,  though  I  have  lived  here  these  six 
months."  Pleasant  people,  thought  I, 
these  must  be,  with  whom  such  a  line  is 
advisable,  much  less  practicable. 

"Mrs.  Clanfrizzle,  my  friend,  Mr.  Lor- 
requer  ;  thinks  he'll  stay  the  summer  in 
town.  Mrs.  (dan,  should  like  him  to  be 
one  of  us.  The  latter  was  said  sotto  voce, 
and  was  a  practice  he  continued  to  adopt 
in  presenting  me  to  his  several  friends 
through  the  room. 

"Miss  Riley," — a  horrid  old  fright,  in  a 
bird  of  paradise  plume,  and  corked  eve- 
brows,  gibbeted  in  gilt  chains  and  pearl 
ornaments,  and  looking,  as  the   grisettes 


say,  superbe  en  chrysolite,  —  "Mist    R 
Captain  Lorrequer,  a  friend  I   have  longed 
desired  t<>  present  to  you — fifteen  thousand 
m   year  and  a   baronetcy, — if   he  l 
pence," — sotto    again.     "Surgeon    M'Cul- 
[och  -he  like>  the   title,"  Baid  Tom,  in   a 
whisper  -"Surgeon,    Captain     Lorrequer. 
By   the  by,  lesi    I   forget   it.  he  wishes  to 
speak   to   you    in  the  morning   about    his 
health;  he  is  stopping  at   Sandymounl  for 
the   baths  ;  you  could   go  out   there,  eh  ? '" 
The  tall   thing  in   green  -pi  ctacli  -  bowed, 
and    acknowledged    Tom's    kindness    by  a 
knowing  touch  of  the  elbow.      In  this  way 
he  made   the   tour  of  the   room  for  about 
ten     minutes,    during    which     brief    sp 
1    was,    according    to    the    kind    arran 
ments  of  <  >'  Flaherty,  hooked  as  a  resident  in 
the  boarding-house — a  lover  to  al  least  five 
elderly,  and  three  young  ladies — a  patient 
— a  client — a  second  in  a  duel  to  ;:  cleric  in 
the   Post-office — and  had  also  volunteered 
(through  him    always)  to  convey,  by  all  of 
his    Majesty's    mails,    as    many    parcels, 
packets,    band-boxes,    and     bird-cages,     a? 
would  have  comfortably  filled  one  of  Pick- 
ford's  vans.     All  this  he  told  me  was  req- 
uisite to    my  being  well    received,,  though 
no  one   thought    much    of    any   breach    of 
compact    subsequently,  except    Mrs.   Clan 
herself.      The  ladies  had.  alas  !  been  often 
treated  vilely  before  ;  the  doctor  had  never 
had    a  patient,  and    as   for  the  belligerent 
knight  of  the    dead  office,  he'd  rather  have 
j  died  than  fought  any  day. 

The  last  person  to  whom  my  friend 
deemed  ir  necessary  to  introduce  me,  was 
a  Mr.  (.arret  C'udmore,  from  the  Reeks  on 
Kerry,  lately  matriculated  to  all  the  hoi 
of  freshmanship  in  the  Dublin  University. 
This  latter  was  a  low-sized,  dark-browed 
man, with  round  shoulders,  and  particularly 
longarms,  the  disposal  of  which  seemed  sad- 
ly to  distress  him.  Hepossessed  the  most 
perfect  brogue  I  ever  listened  to  :  but  it 
was  difficult  to  get  him  to  speak,  for.  on 
coming  up  to  town  some  weeks  before,  he 
had  been  placed  by  some  intelligent  friend 
at  Mrs.  Oianfrizzle's  establishment,  with 
the  express  direction  to  mark  and  thor- 
oughly digest  as  much  as  he  could  of  the 
habits  and  customs  of  the  circle  about  him. 
which  he  was  rightly  informed  was  the 
Very  focus  of  good  breeding  and  haut  ton  ; 
but  on  no  account,  unless  driven  thereto 
by  the  pressure  of  sickness,  or  the  wants  of 
nature,  to  trust  himself  with  speech,  which, 
i  in  his  then  uninformed  state,  he  was  assured 
would  inevitably  ruin  him  among  his  fas- 
tidiously cultivated  associates. 

To  the  letter  and  the  spirit  of   the   des- 
patch he  had  received,  the  worthy  Garret 


66 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


acted  rigidly,  and  his  voice  was  scarcely 
ever  known  to  transgress  the  narrow  limits 
prescribed  by  his  friends,  hi  more  re- 
spects than  one  was  this  a  good  resolve  ; 
for  so  completely  had  he  identified  himself 
with  college  habits,  things,  and  phrases, 
that  Avhenever  he  conversed,  he  became 
little  short  of  unintelligible  to  the  vulgar 
— a  difficulty  not  lessened  by  his  peculiar 
pronunciation. 

My  round  of  presentation  was  just  com- 
pleted, when  the  pale  figure  in  light  blue 
livery  announced  Counsellor  Daly  and  din- 
ner, for  both  came  fortunately  together. 
Taking  the  post  of  honor,  Miss  Riley's 
arm,  I  followed  Tom,  who  I  soon  perceived 
ruled  the  whole  concern,  as  he  led  the  way 
with  another  ancient  vestal  in  black  satin 
and  bugles.  The  long  procession  wound 
its  snake-like  length  down  the  narrow 
stair,  and  into  the  dining-room,  where  at 
last  we  all  got  seated.  And  here  let  me 
briefly  vindicate  the  motives  of  my  friend. 
Should  any  unkind  person  be  found  to  im- 
pute to  his  selection  of  a  residence  any 
base  and  groveling  passion  for  "gour- 
mandise,"  that  day's  experience  should  be 
an  eternal  vindication  of  him.  The  soup — 
alas  !  that  I  should  so  far  prostitute  the 
word,  for  the  black  broth  of  Sparta  was 
mock-turtle  in  comparison — retired  to 
make  way  for  a  mass  of  beef,  whose  ten- 
derness I  did  not  question  ;  for  it  sank  be- 
neath the  knife  of  the  carver  like  a  feather 
bed — the  skill  of  Saladin  himself  would 
have  failed  to  divide  it.  The  fish  was  a 
most  rebellious  pike,  and  nearly  killed 
every  loyal  subject  at  table ;  and  then 
down  the  sides  were  various  dishes  of 
chickens  with  azure  bosoms,  and  hams 
with  hides  like  a  rhinoceros  ;  covered  "de- 
coys" of  decomposed  vegetable  matter 
called  spinach  and  cabbage  ;  potatoes  ar- 
rayed in  small  masses,  and  browned,  re- 
sembling those  ingenious  architectural 
structures  of  mud  children  raise  in  the 
highways  and  call  dirt-pies.  Such  Vere 
the  chief  constituents  of  the  "  feed  ; "  and 
such,  I  am  bound  to  confess,  waxed  beau- 
tifully less  under  the  vigorous  onslaught 
of  the  party. 

The  conversation  soon,  became  both  loud 
and  general.  That  happy  familiarity — 
which  I  had  long  believed  to  be  the  exclu- 
sive prerogative  of  a  military  mess,  where 
constant  daily  association  sustains  the  in- 
terest of  the  veriest  trifles — I  here  found 
in  a  perfection  I  had  not  anticipated,  with 
this  striking  difference,  that  there  was  no 
absurd  deference  to  any  existing  code  of 
etiquette  in  the  conduct  of  the  party  gen- 
erally, each  person  quizzing  his  neighbor 


in  the  most  free-and-easy  style  imaginable, 
and  all,  evidently  from  long  habit  and  con- 
ventional usage,  seeming  to  enjoy  the 
practice  exceedingly.  Thus,  droll  allu- 
sions, good  stories,  and  smart  repartees 
fell  thick  as  hail,  and  twice  as  harm- 
less, which,  anywhere  else  that  I  had  ever 
heard  of,  would  assuredly  have  called  for 
more  explanations,  and  perhaps  gunpow- 
der, in  the  morning,  than  usually  are 
deemed  agreeable.  Here,  however,  they 
knew  better;  and  though  the  lawyer 
quizzed  the  doctor  for  never  having  another 
patient  than  the  house-dog,  all  of  whose 
arteries  he  had  tied  in  the  course  of  the 
winter  for  practice,  and  the  doctor  retort- 
ed as  heavily  by  showing  that  the  lawyer's 
practice  had  been  other  than  beneficial  to 
those  for  whom  he  was  concerned,  his  one 
client  being  found  guilty,  mainly  through 
his  ingenious  defence  of  him,  yet  they 
never  showed  any,  the  slightest  irritation  ; 
on  the  contrary,  such  little  playful  bad- 
inage ever  led  to  some  friendly  passages 
of  taking  wine  together,  or  in  arrange- 
ments for  a  party  to  the  "  Dargle,"  or 
"Dunleary;"  and  thus  went  on  the  en- 
tire party,  the  young  ladies  darting  an  oc- 
casional slight  at  their  elders,  who  cer- 
tainly returned  the  fire  often  with  advan- 
tage ;  all  uniting  now  and  then,  however, 
in  one  common  cause,  an  attack  of  the 
whole  line  upon  Mrs.  Clanfrizzle  herself, 
for  the  beef,  or  the  mutton,  or  the  fish,  or 
the  poultry — each  of  which  was  sure  to 
find  some  sturdy  defamer,  ready  and  wil- 
ling to  give  evidence  in  dispraise.  Yet 
even  these — and  I  thought  them  rather 
dangerous  sallies — led  to  no  more  violent 
results  than  dignified  readies  from  the  wor- 
thy hostess  upon  the  goodness  of  her  fare, 
and  the  evident  satisfaction  it  afforded 
while  being  eaten,  if  the  appetites  of  the 
party  were  a  test.  While  this  was  at  its 
height,  Tom  stooped  behind  my  chair,  and 
whispered  gently, — 

"  This  is  good — isn't  it,  eh  ? — life  in  a 
boarding-house — quite  new  to  you,  but 
they  are  civilized  now  compared  to  what 
you  will  find  them  in  the  drawing-room, 
when  short  whist  for  fivepenny  points  sets 
in — then  Greek  meets  Greek,  and  we'll 
have  it." 

During  all  this  melee  tournament,  I  per- 
ceived that  the  worthy  jib,  as  he  would  be 
called  in  the  parlance  of  Trinity,  Mr.  Cud- 
more,  remained  perfectly  silent  and  appar- 
ently terrified.  The  noise,  the  din  of 
voices,  and  the  laughing,  so  completely 
addled  him,  that  he  was  like  one  in  a  very 
horrid  dream.  The  attention  with  which 
I  had  observed  him  having  been  remarked 


HARRY   LORREQUER. 


by  my  friend  O'Flahcrtv.  he  informed  me 
that  the  scholar,  as  he  was  called  there, 
was  then  under  a  kind  of  cloud — an  ad- 
venture which  occurred  only  two  eights 
before  being  too  fresh  in  his  memory  t<> 
permit  him  enjoying  himself  even  to  the 
limited  extent  it  had  been  his  wont  to  do. 
As  illustrative,  not  only  of  Mr.  Cudmore, 
but  the  life  1  have  been  speaking  of,  I  may 
as  well  relate  it. 

Soon  after  Mr.  Cudmore's  enlistmenl 
under  the  banners  of  the  Clanfrizzle,  he 
had  sought  aud  found  an  asylum  in  the 
drawing-room  of  the  establishment,  which 
promised,  from  its  geographical  relations, 
to  expose  him  less  to  the  molestations  of 
conversation  than  most  other  parts  of  the 
room.  This  was  a  small  recess  beside  the 
fireplace,  not  uncommon  in  old-fashioned 
houses,  and  which,  from  its  incapacity  to 
hold  more  than  one.  secured  to  the  wor- 
thy recluse  the  privacy  he  longed  for , 
and  here,  among  superannuated  hearth- 
brushes,  an  old  hand-screen,  an  asthmatic 
bellows,  and  a  kettle-holder,  sat  the  timid 
youth,  "'alone,  but  in  a  crowd."  Not  all 
the  seductions  of  loo,  limited  to  three- 
pence, nor  even  that  most  appropriately 
designated  game,  beggar -my- neighbor, 
could  withdraw  him  from  his  blest  retreat. 
Like  his  countryman,  St.  Kevin — my  friend 
Petrie  has  ascertained  that  the  saint  was  a 
native  of  Tralee — he  fled  from  the  temp- 
tations of  the  world,  and  the  blandish- 
ments of  the  fair ;  but,  alas  !  like  the  saint 
himself,  the 

poor  "jib  "  little  knew 
All  that  wily  sex  can  do  ; 

for  while  he  hugged  himself  in  the  secur- 
ity of  his  fortress,  the  web  of  his  destiny 
was  weaving.  So  true  is  it,  as  he  himself 
used,  no  less  pathetically  than  poetically 
to  express  it,  "  misfortune  will  find  you 
out,  if  ye  were  hid  in  a  tay-chest. " 

It  happened  that  in  Mrs.  Clanfrizzle's 
establishment,  the  enfant  bleu  already 
mentioned  was  the  only  individual  of  his 
sex  retained  ;  and  without  for  a  moment 
disparaging  the  ability  or  attentions  of  this 
gifted  person,  yet  it  may  reasonably  be 
credited  that,  in  waiting  on  a  party  of 
twrenty-five  or  thirty  persons  at  dinner,  all 
of  whom  he  had  admitted  as  porter  and 
announced  as  maitre  >/'  hotel,  with  the  sub- 
sequent detail  of  his  duties  in  the  drawing- 
room,.  Peter — Blue  Peter,  his  boarding- 
house  sobriquet — not  enjoying  the  bird-like 
privilege  of  "being  in  two  places  at  once," 
gave  one  rather  the  impression  of  a  person 
of  hasty  and  fidgety  habits,  for  which  ner- 


\ on-  tendency  the  t reatmeni  he  underwent 
•ah-  certainly  injudicious,  ii  being  the  in- 
variable custom  for  each  gu  :  his 
services  in  requisition,  pert'.                 pect- 

ive  of  all  other  claim-  upon  him,  from 
whatsoever  quarter  coming  ;  ami  then  at 
the  precise  momenl  that  the  luckless  valel 

was  snuffing   the  candles,   he  v.:  - 
l>\  one  for  not   bringing  coal  ;  by  am 
for  having  carried  oil'  hi-  teacup,  sen!   on 

an  expedition  for  sugar:  by  a  third  for 
having  left  the  door  open,  which  he  had 
never    been  neai'  ;   and  SO  mi    to  i  he  i ml  of 

shapter. 

it  chanced  that  a  feu  evenings  previous 
to  my  appearance al  the  house,  this  inde- 
fatigable Caleb  was  ministering  as  usual 
to  the  various  ami  discrepanl  wants  of  the 
large  party  assembled  in  the  drawing- 
room.  With  his  wonted  alacrity  he  had 
withdrawn  from  their  obscure  retreat 
against  the  wall,  sundry  little  tables,  des- 
tined for  the  players  at  whist,  or  "spoil 
five  *" — the  popular  game  of  the  establish- 
ment. With  a  dexterity  that  savored 
much  of  a  stage  education,  he  had  arrang- 
ed the  candles,  the  cards,  the  counters  ;  h< 
had  poked  the  lire,  settled  the  stool  for 
Miss  Riley's  augusi  feet,  and  was  busily 
engaged  in  changing  five  shillings  into 
small  silver  for  a  desperate  victim  of  loo, 
when  Mrs.  Clanfrizzle's  third,  and.  as  it 
appeared,  last  time  of  asking  for  the  kettle 
smote  upon  his  ear.  His  loyalty  would 
have  induced  him  at  once  to  desert  every- 
thing on  such  an  occasion  :  bur  the  other 
party  engaged  held  him  fast,  saying, 

••  Never  mind  her,  Peter— you  have  six- 
pence more  to  give  me." 

Poor  Peter  rummaged  one  pocket,  then 
another — discovering  at  last  threepence  in 
copper,  and  some  farthings,  with  which  he 
seemed  endeavoring  to  make  a  composi- 
tion with  his  creditor  for  twelve  shillings 
in  the  pound  ;  when  Mrs.  Clan's  patience 
finally  becoming  exhausted,  she  turned 
towards  Mr.  Cudmore,  the  only  unem- 
ployed person  she  could  perceive,  and  with 
her  blandest  smile  said. — 

"Mr.  Cudmore,  may  I  take  the  liberty 
of  requesting  you  would  hand  me  the  ket- 
tle beside  you  ?  "  ' 

Now,  though  the  kettle  aforesaid  was. 
as- the  hostess  very  properly  observed,  be- 
side him.  yet  the  fact  that  in  complying 
with  the  demand  it  was  necessary  for  the 
bashful  youth  to  leave  the  recess  he  occu- 
pied, and,  with  the  kettle,  proceed  to  walk 
half  aero--;  the  room,  there  to  perform  cer- 
tain manual  operations  requiring  skill  and 
presence  of  mind  before  a  farge  and  crowd- 
ed assembly,  was  horror  to  the  mind  of  the 


68 


CHARLES  LEVERS    WORKS. 


poor  Jib,  and  he  would  nearly  as  soon  have 
acceded  to  a  desire  to  dance  a  hornpipe)  if 
such  had  been  suggested  as  the  wish  of  the 
company.  However,  there  was  nothing 
for  it,  and  summoning  up  all  his  nerve, 
knitting  his  brows,  clenching  his  teeth, 
like  one  prepared  to  "do  or  die,"  he  seized 
the  hissing  cauldron  and  strode  through 
the  room  like  the  personified  genius  of 
steam,  very  much  to  the  alarm  of  all  the 
old  ladies  in  the  vicinity,  whose  tasteful 
drapery  benefited  but  little  from  his  pro- 
gress. Yet  he  felt  but  little  of  all  this  : 
he  had  brought  up  his  courage  to  the 
sticking  place,  and  he  was  absolutely  half 
unconscious  of  the  whole  scene  before  him; 
nor  was  it  till  some  kind  mediator  had 
seized  his  arm,  while  another  drew  him 
back  by  the  skirts  of  the  coat,  that  he  de- 
sisted from  the  deluge  of  hot  water  with 
which,  having  filled  the  teapot,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  swamp  everything  else  upon  the 
tray,  in  his  unfortunate  abstraction.  Mrs. 
Clanfrizzle  screamed — the  old  ladies  ac- 
companied her — the  young  ones  tittered — 
the  men  laughed — and,  in  a  word,  poor 
Cudmore,  perfectly  unconscious  of  any- 
thing extraordinary,  felt  himself  the  ad- 
mired of  all  admirers — very  little,  it  is 
true,  to  his  own  satisfaction.  After  some 
few  minutes'  exposure  to  these  signs  of 
mirth,  he  succeeded  in  depositing  the 
source  of  his  griefs  within  the  fender,  and 
once  more  retired  to  his  sanctuary,  having 
registered  a  vow,  which,  should  I  speak  it, 
would  forfeit  his  every  claim  to  gallantry 
for  ever. 

Whether,  in  the  vow  aforesaid,  Mr.  Cud- 
more  had  only  been  engaged  in  that  species 
of  tesselation  which  furnishes  the  pave- 
ment so  celebrated  in  the  lower  regions,  I 
know  not ;  but  true  it  is,  that  he  retired 
that  night  to  his  chamber  very  much  dis- 
comfited as  his  debut  in  the  great  world, 
and  half  disposed  to  believe  that  nature 
had  neither  intended  him  for  a  Brummell 
nor  a  D'Orsay.  While  he  was  ruminating- 
on  such  matters,  he  was  joined  by  O'Fla- 
herty,  with  whom  he  had  been  always 
more  intimate  than  any  other  inmate  of 
the  house,  Tom's  tact  having  entirely  con- 
cealed what  the  manners  of  the  others  too 
plainly  evinced — a  perfect  appreciation  of 
the  student's  oddity  and  singularity. 
After  some  few  observations  on  general 
matters,  O'FIaherty  began  with  a  tone  of 
some  seriousness  to  express  towards  Cud- 
more  the  warm  interest  he  had  ever  taken 
in  him,  since  his  first  coming  among  them; 
his  great  anxiety  for  his  welfare,  and  his 
firm  resolve  that  no  chance  or  casual  inat- 
tention to  mere  ceremonial  observances  on 


his  part  should  ever  be  seized  on  by  the 
other  guests  as  a  ground,  for  detraction  or 
an  excuse  for  ridicule  of  him. 

"  Eely  upon  it,  my  dear  boy,"  said  he, 
"I  have  watched  over  yon  like  a  parent; 
and  having  partly  foreseen  that  something 
like  this  affair  of  to-night  would  take  place 
sooner  or  later " 

"  What  affair  ?"  said  Cudmore,  his  eyes 
staring  half  out  of  his  head. 

"  The  business  of  the  kettle." 

"  Kett— el.  The  kettel  !  What  of 
that  ?"  said  Cudmore. 

"  What  of  it  ?  Why,  if  you  don't  feel  it, 
I  am  sure  it  is  not  vnj  duty  to  remind  you; 
only " 

"Feel  it — oh  yes.  I  saw  them  laughing 
because  I  spilled  the  water  over  old  Mrs. 
Jones,  or  something  of  that  sort." 

"No,  no,  my  dear  young  friend,  they 
were  not  laughing  at  that — their  mirth 
had  another  object." 

"What  the  devil  was  it  at,  then  ?" 

"You  don't  know,  don't  you  ?" 

"  No  ;  I  really  do  not." 

"  Nor  can't  guess — eh  ?  " 

"  Confound  me  if  I  can." 

"  Well.  I  see,  Mr.  Cudmore,  you  are 
really  too  innocent  for  these  people.  But 
come — it  shall  never  be  said  that  youth 
and  inexperience  ever  suffered  from  the 
unworthy  ridicule  and  cold  sarcasm  of  the 
base  world,  while  Tom  O'FIaherty  stood 
by  a  spectator.  Sir,"  said  Tom,  strikiug 
his  hand  with  energy  on  the  table,  and 
darting  a  look  of  fiery  indignation  from 
his  eye — "sir,  you  were  this  night  tre- 
panned— yes,  sir,  vilely,  shamefully  tre- 
panned— I  repeat  the  expression — into  the 
performance  of  a  menial  office — an  office 
so  degrading,  so  offensive,  so  unbecoming 
the  rank,  the  station,  and  the  habits  of 
gentlemen,  my  very  blood  recoils  when  I 
only  think  of  the  indignity." 

The  expression  of  increasing  wonder  and 
surprise  depicted  in  Mr.  Cndmore's  face  at 
these  words,  my  friend  Phiz  might  convey 
— I  cannot  venture  to  describe  it ;  suffice 
it  to  say,  that  even  O'FIaherty  himself 
found  it  difficult  to  avoid  a  burst  of  laugh- 
ter as  he  looked  at  him,  and  resumed  : — 

"  Witnessing,  as  I  did,  the  entire  occur- 
rence ;  feeling  deeply  for  the  inexperience 
which  the  heartless  worldlings  had  dared 
to  trample  upon,  I  resolved  to  stand  by 
you,  and  here  I  am  come  for  that  purpose." 

"Well,  but  what  in  the  devil's  name 
have  I  clone  all  this  time  ?" 

"  What !  are  you  still  ignorant  ? — is  it 
possible  ?  Did  you  not  hand  the  kettle 
from  the  fireplace,  and  fill  the  teapot  ? — 
answer  me  that." 


HARRY   LORREQl  ER. 


"I  did,"  said  Cudmore,  with  a  voice 
already  becoming  i  remulous. 

"  Is  t  h;i t  i  he  duty  of  a  geni  leman  ? — an- 
swer me  that." 

A  dead  pause  si 1  iii  place  of  a   reply, 

while  Tom  proceeded, — 

••  Did  you  ever  hear  any  one  ask  me,  or 
Counselor  Daly,  or  .Mi-.  Fogarty,  or  any 
other  person  to  do  so  ? — answer  me  thai . 

••  No,  never,"  muttered  Cudmore,  with 
a  sinking  spirit. 

"  Well,  then,  why,  may  I  ask,  were  yon 
selected  for  that  office,  that,  by  your  own 
confession,  no  one  else  would  stoop  to  per- 
form  ?  I'll  tell  you,  because  from  your 
youth  and  inexperience,  your  innocence 
was  deemed  a  lit  victim  to  the  heartless 
irs  of  a  cold  and  unfeeling  world.'' 
And  here  Tom  broke  forth  into  a.  very 
beautiful  apostrophe,  beginning  "  Oh,  vir- 
tue!"— this  I  am  unfortunately  unable  to 
present  to  my  readers,  and  must  only  as- 
sure them  that  it  was  a  very  faithful  imi- 
tation of  the  well-known  one  delivered  by 
Burke  in  the  case  of  Warren  Hastings,— 
and  concluding  with  an  exhortation  to 
Cudmore  to  wipe  out  the  stain  of  his 
wounded  honor,  by  repelling  with  indigna- 
tion the  slightest  future  attempt  at  such 
an  insult. 

This  done,  O'Flaherty  retired,  leaving 
Cudmore  to  dig  among  Greek  roots,  and 
chew  over  the  cud  of  his  misfortune. 
Punctual  to  the  time  and  place,  that  same 
evening  beheld  the  injured  Cudmore  re- 
sume his  wonted  corner,  pretty  much  with 
the  feeling  with  which  a  forlorn  hope 
stands,  match  in  hand,  to  ignite  the  train 
destined  to  explode  with  ruin  to  thousands 
— himself,  perhaps,  among  the  number. 
There  he  sat,  with  a. brain  as  burning  and 
a  heart  as  excited  as  though,  instead  of 
sipping  his  bohea  beside  a  sea-coal  tire,  he 
was  that  instant  trembling  beneath,  the 
frown  of  Dr. Elrington  for  the  blunders  in 
his  Latin  theme,— and  what  terror  to  the 
mind  of  a  "Jib"  can  equal  that  one  ? 

As  luck  would  have  it,  this  was  a  com- 
pany night  in  the  boarding-house.  Vari- 
ous young  ladies  in  long  blue  sashes,  and 
very  broad  ribbon  sandals,  paraded  the 
rooms,  chatting  gaily  with  very  distin- 
guished-looking young  gentlemen,  with 
gold  brooches  and  party-colored  inside 
waistcoats  ;  sundry  elderly  ladies  sat  at 
card-tables,  discussing  the  "lost  honor  by 
an  odd  trick  they  played,"  with  heads  as 
large  as  those  of  Jack  or  Jill  in  the  panto- 
mime ;  spruce  clerks  in  public  offices 
(whose  vocation  the  expansive  tendency  of 
the  right  ear,  from  long  pen-carrying,  be- 
tokened) discussed  fashion  "and  the  mu- 


sical   •. 

.  who  preferred   flirting  to 
five-and-ten.     The   tea  table,   over   which 
i  be  amiable  hostess   presided,  had  a! 
standing  votaries:  mosl  ly  grave  parliament- 
ary-looking   gentlemen,    with     po^i 
beads  and    \ei-\  long-waisted   black  i 
among  whom    the  Sir    "nicle    was    a    fune- 
i  ionary    of   hifi    Mail  ■' ;. '-    II  igh    I  ourl  of 
( lhancery,  though,  1  have  reason  tobi 

QOi    Lord!   Manners  ;  mean  while,  in  all  parts 

of  the  room  mi  -n  Dine  I ' 

tributing  tea.  coffee,  and  buiscuit,  ami  oc- 
casionally interchanging  a  joke  with  the 
dwellers  in  the  house.  While  all  these 
pleasing  occupations  proceeded,  the  hour 
of  Cudmore's  trial  was  approaching.     The 

teapot,     which    had     stood     the    attack    of 

fourteen  cups   without    flinching,   at    lasl 

began  to  fail,  and  discovered  to  the  prying 
eyes  of  Mrs.  Clanfrizzle  nothing  but  an 
olive-colored  deposit  of  soft  matter,  closely 
analogous    in    appearance    and    chemical 

property  to  the  residuary  precipitate  in  a 
drained  fish-pond  ;  she  put  down  the  lid 
with  a  gentle  sigh,  and  turning  towards 
the  fire,  bestowed  'me  of  her  very  blandest 
and  most  captivating  looks  on  Mr.  Cud- 
more, saying — as  plainly  as  looks  could 
say — "Cudmore,  you're  wanting.*'  Wheth- 
er the  youth  did,  or  did  not  understand,  1 
am  unable  to  record  ;  I  can  only  say,  the 
appeal  was  made  without  acknowledg- 
ment. Mrs.  Clanfrizzle  again  essayed,  and 
by  a  little  masonic  movement  of  her  hand 
to  the  teapot,  and  a  sly  glance  at  the  hob, 
intimated  her  wish — still  hopelessly;  at 
last,  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  speaking, 
and  she  donned  her  very  softest  voice  and 
nmst  persuasive  tone,  saying,  •"Mr.  Cud- 
more, I  am  really  very  troublesome  ;  will 
you  permit  me  to  ask  you " 

"Is  it  for  the  kettle,  ma'am?"  said 
Cudmore,  with  a  voice  that  startled  the 
whole  room,  disconcerting  three  whist  par- 
ties, and  so  absorbing  the  attention  of  the 
people  at  loo.  that  the  pool  disappeared 
without  any  one  being  able  to  account  for 
the  circumstance — "is  it  for  the  kettle, 
ma'am  ?  " 

"If  you  will  be  so  very  kind,"  lisped 
the  hostess. 

"Well,  then,  upon  my  conscience,  you 
are  impudent,"  said  Cudmore,  with  his 
face  crimsoned  to  the  ears,  and  his  eyes 
flashing  fire. 

"Why,  Mr.  Cudmore,"  began  the  lady 
— "  why.  really,  this  is  so  strange  !  Why, 
sir,  what  can  you  mean  ? '" 

.  "Just  that,'"  said  the  imperturbable  Jib, 
who,  now  his  courage  was  up,  dared  every- 
thing. 


m 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS, 


"But,  sir,  you  must  surely  have  mis- 
understood me.  I  only  asked  for  the  ket- 
tle, Mr.  Cud  more." 

"The  devil  a  more,"  said  Cud,  with  a 
sneer. 

"  Well,  then,  of  course " 

"Well,  then,  I'll  tell  you,  of  coorse," 
said  he,  repeating  her  words  :  "the  sorrow 
taste  of  the  kettle  I'll  give  you.  Call  your 
own  skip — Blue  Pether  there — damn  me 
if  I'll  be  your  skip  any  longer!  " 

For  the  uninitiated,  I  have  only  to  add, 
that  "  ship  "  is  the  Trinity  College  appella- 
tion for  servant,  which  was  therefore  em- 
ployed by  Mr.  Cudmore  on  this  occasion 
as  expressing  more  contemptuously  his 
sense  of  the  degradation  of  the  office  at- 
tempted to  be  put  upon  him.  Having 
already  informed  my  reader  on  some  partic- 
ulars of  the  company,  I  ler.ve  him  to  sup- 
pose how  Mr.  Cudmore's  speech  was  re- 
ceived. Whist  itself  was  at  an  end  for  that 
evening,  and  nothing  but  laughter,  long, 
loud,  and  reiterated,  burst  from  every  cor- 
ner of  the  room  for  hours  after. 

As  I  have  so  far  traveled  out  of  the 
record  of  my  own  peculiar  "  Confessions  " 
as  to  give  a  leaf  from  what  might  one 
day  form  the  matter  of  Mr.  Cudmore's,  I 
must  now  make  the  only  amende  in  my 
power,  by  honestly  narrating,  that  short  as 
my  visit  was  to  the  classic  precincts  of  this 
agreeable  establishment,  I  did  not  escape 
without  exciting  my  share  of  ridicule, 
though  I  certainly  had  not  the  worst  of 
the  joke,  and  may,  therefore  with  better 
grace  tell  the  story,  which,  happily  for 
my  readers  is  a  short  one.  A  custom  pre- 
vailed in  Mrs.  Clanfrizzle's  household, 
which,  from  my  unhappy  ignorance  of 
boarding-houses,  I  am  unable  to  predicate 
if  it  belong  to  the  genera  at  large  or  this 
one  specimen  in  particular  ;  however,  it  is 
a  sufficiently  curious  fact,  even  though 
thereby  hang  no  tale  for  my  stating  it 
here.  The  decanters  on  the  dinner-table 
were  never  labelled  with  their  more  appro- 
priate designation  of  contents,  whether 
claret,  sherry,  or  port,  but  with  the  names 
of  their  respective  owners,  it  being  a  mat- 
ter of  much  less  consequence  that  any  in- 
dividual at  table  should  mix  his  wine  by 
pouring  "port  upon  madeira,"  than  com- 
mit the  truly  legal  offence  of  appropriating 
to  his  own  use  and  benefit,  even  by  mis- 
take, his  neighbor's  bottle.  However  well 
the  system  may  work  among  the  regular 
members  of  the  "domestic  circle" — audi 
am  assured  that  it  does  succeed  extremely 
— to  the  newly-arrived  guest,  or  uninitiated 
visitor,  the  affair  is  perplexing,  and  leads 
occasionally  to  awkward  results. 


It  so  chanced,  from  my  friend  O'Flah- 
erty's  habitual  position  at  the  foot  of  the 
table,  and  my  post  of  honor  near  the  head, 
that  on  the  first  day  of  my  appearing 
there,  the  distance  between  us  not  only 
precluded  close  intercourse,  but  any  of 
those  gentle  hints  as  to  habits  and  customs 
a  new  arrival  looks  for  at  the  hands 
of  his  better  informed  friend  The  only 
mode  of  recognition,  to  prove  that  we  be- 
longed to  each  other,  being  by  that  excel- 
lent and  truly  English  custom  of  drinking 
wine  together,  Tom  seized  the  first  idle 
moment  from  his  avocation  as  carver  to 
say,— 

"  Lorrequer,  a  glass  of  wine  with  you." 

Having,  of  course,  acceded,  he  again 
asked. — 

"  What  wine  do  you  drink  ?"  intending 
thereby,  as  I  afterwards  learned,  to  send 
me  from  his  end  of  the  table  what  wine  I 
selected.  Not  conceiving  the  object  of 
the  inquiry,  and  having  hitherto,  without 
hesitation,  helped  myself  from  the  de- 
canter which  bore  some  faint  resemblance 
to  sherry,  I  immediately  turned  for  cor- 
rect information  to  the  bottle  itself,  up- 
on whose  slender  neck  was  ticketed  the 
usual  slip  of  paper.  My  endeavors  to  de- 
cipher the  writing  occupied  time  sufficient 
again  to  make  O'Flaherty  ask, — 

' '  Well,  Harry,  I'm  waiting  for  you. 
Will  you  have  claret  ?  " 

"  No,  I  thank  you,"  I  replied,  having  by 
this  revealed  the  inscription, — "  no,  I  thank 
you  ;  I'll  just  stick  to  my  old  friend  here, 
Bob  M'Grotty;"  for  thus  I  rendered 
familiarly  the  name  of  Rt.  M'Grotty  on 
the  decanter,  and  which  I,  in  my  igno- 
rance, believed  to  be  the  boarding-house  so- 
briquet for  bad  sherry.  That  M'Grotty 
himself  little  relished  my  familiarity  with 
either  his  name  or  property  I  had  a  very 
decisive  proof,  for,  turning  round  upon 
his  chair,  and  surveying  my  person  from 
head  to  foot,  with  a  look  of  fiery  wrath, he 
thundered  out  in  very  broad  Scotch, — 

"And  by  my  saul,  my  freend,  ye  may 
just  as  weel  finish  it  noo,  for  deil  a  glass  o' 
his  ain  wine  did  Bob  M'Grotty,  as  ye  ca' 
him,  swallow  this  day." 

The  convulsion  of  laughter  into  which 
my  blunder  and  the  Scotchman's  passion 
threw  the  whole  board,  lasted  till  the  cloth 
was  withdrawn,  and  the  ladies  had  retired 
to  the  drawing-room,  the  only  individual  at 
table  not  relishing  the  mistake  being  the 
injured  proprietor  of  the  bottle,  who  was 
too  proud  to  accept  reparation  from  my 
friend's  decanter,  and  would  scarcely  con- 
descend to  open  his  lips  during  Hie  even- 
ing;   notwithstanding  which    display    of 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


71 


honest  indignation,  we  contrived  to  be- 
come exceedingly  merry  and  jocose,  mosl 
of  the  party  communicating  little  episodes 
of  their  life,  in  which,  it  is  true,  fchey  fre- 
quently figured  in  situations  that  nothing 
hut  their  native  and  natural  candor 
would  venture  to  avow.  One  story  I  was 
considerably  amused  at ;  it  was  told  by  the 
counsellor,  Mr.  Daly,  in  illustration  of  the 
difficulty  of  rising  at  the  bar,  and  which, 
as  showing  his  own  mode  of  obviating  the 
delay  that  young  professional  men  submit 
to  from  hard  necessity,  as  well  as  in  evi- 
dence of  his  strictly  legal  turn,  I  shall  cer- 
tainly recount  one  of  these  days  for  the 
edification  of  the  junior  bar. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


THE   CHASE. 


Ox  the  morning  after  my  visit  to  the 
boarding-house,  I  received  a  few  hurried 
lines  from  Curzon,  informing  me  that  no 
time  was  to  he  lost  in  joining  the  regi- 
ment ;  that  a  grand  fancy  hall  was  about 
to  be  given  by  the  officers  of  the  Dwarf 
frigate,  then  stationed  off  Dimmore  ;  who, 
when  inviting  the  4 — th,  especially  put  in 
a  demand  for  my  well-known  services,  to 
make  it  go  off,  and  concluding  with  an  ex- 
tract from  the  Kilkenny  Moderator,  which 
ran  thus  :  "An  intimation  has  just  reach- 
ed us,  from  a  quarter  on  which  we  can 
place  the  fullest  reliance,  that  the  cele- 
brated amateur  performer,  Mr.  Lorrequer, 
may  shortly  be  expected  among  us.  From 
the  many  accounts  we  have  received  of  this 
highly-gifted  gentleman's  powers,  we  antici- 
pate a  great  treat  to  the  lovers  of  the 
drama,"  etc.,  etc.  "So  you  see,  my  dear 
Hal,"  continued  Curzon,  "thy  vocation 
calls  thee. ;  therefore  come,  and  come  quick- 
ly ;  provide  thyself  with  a  black  satin  cos- 
tume, slashed  with  light  blue,  point-lace 
collar  and  ruffles,  a  Spanish  hat  looped  in 
front,  and,  if  possible,  a  long  rapier  with  a 
flat  hilt.  Garden  is  not  here  ;  so  you  may 
show  your  face  under  any  color  with  per- 
fect impunity.    Yours  from  the  side  scenes, 

"C.  Curzon." 

This  clever  epistle  sufficed  to  show  that 
the  gallant  -i — th  had  gone  clean  theatrical 
mad;  and  although  from  my  "last  ap- 
pearance on  any  stage,"  it  might  be  suppos- 
ed I  should  feel  no  peculiar  desire  to  re- 
peat the  experiment,  yet  the  opportunity 
of  joining  during  Colonel  Garden's  absence 
was  too  tempting  to  resist,  and  I  at  once 


made  up  my  mind  to  set  out,  and  without 
a  moment's  delay,  hurried  across  the  street 
to  the  coach- office  to  hook  myself  an  inside 

in  i  lie  mail  of  t  liai  night,  Fori  unately,  no 
difficulty  existed  in  my  procuring  the* 

for  the  way-hill  was  a  perfeel    blank,  and  I 
found   myself  the  only  person  who  ha 
yel    announced    himself  a   passenger.     On 
returning  to  my  hotel  I  found  OTlaherty 
waiting  cor  me.     Be  was  greatlj  • 
ed  on   bearing  my  determination    to  l< 
town — explained  how  he  had  been  catering 
for  my  amusement  for  the  week  to  cmw- — 
that  a  pic-nic  to  the  Dargle  was  arrai 
in  a  committee  of   t he  whole  house,  and  a 
boating  party,  with  a  dinner  at  the   Pigeon 
House,  was  then  under  consideration.     Re- 
sisting, however,  Buch  extreme  temptal  i< 
I  mentioned  the   necessi  once 

proceeding  to  head-quarters,  and  all  other 
reasons  for  my  precipitancy  failing,  con- 
cluded with  that  really  knock-down  argu- 
ment, "I  have  taken  my  place."  Th 
need  scarcely  add,  finished  the  matter  ;  at 
least  J  have  never  known  it.  fail  in  such 
cases.  Tell  yourfriends  that  your  wi 
hourly  expecting  to  be  confined;  your  fav- 
orite child  is  in  the  measles  ;  your  best 
friend  waiting  your  aid  in  an  awkward 
scrape  ;  your  one  vote  only  wanting  to  turn 
the  scale  in  an  election  ; — tell  them.  I 
each.or  all  of  these,  or  a  hundred  more  like 
them,  and  to  any  one  you  so  speak,  the 
answer  is,  "Pooh,  pooh,  my  dear  fellow, 
never  fear — don't  fuss  yourself — take  it 
easy — to-morrow  will  do  just  as  well."  If 
on  the  other  hand,  however,  you  reject  such 
flimsy  excuses,  and  simply  say,  "I'm  bonk- 
ed in  the  mail,"  the  opposition  at  once  falls 
to  the  ground,  and  your  quondam  antago- 
nist, wdio  was  ready  to  quarrel  with  you,  is 
at  once  prepared  to  assist  in  packing  your 
portmanteau. 

Having  soon  satisfied  my  friend  Tom 
that  resistance  was  in  vain,  1  promised  to 
eat  an  early  dinner  with  him  at  Morrison's, 
and. spent  the  better  part  of  the  morning 
in  putting  down  a  few  notes  of  my  "  Con- 
fessions "  as  well  as  the  particulars  of  Mr. 
Daly's  story,  which,  I  believe,  I  half  or 
wholly  promised  my  readers  at  the  conclu- 
sion of  my  last  chapter  ;  but  which  I  must 
defer  to  a  more  suitable  opportunity,  when 
mentioning  the  next  occasion  of  my  meet- 
ing him  on  the  southern  circuit. 

My  dispositions  were  speedily  made.  1 
was  fortunate  in  securing  the  exact  dress 
my  friend's  letter  alluded  to  among  the 
stray  costumes  of  Fishamble-street ;  and, 
rich  in  the  possession  of  the  only  "  prop- 
erties "  it  had  been  my  lot  to  acquire,  1 
despatched  my  treasure  to  the  coach-office, 


72 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


and  hastened  to  Morrison's,  it  being  by 
this  time  nearly  five  o'clock.  There,  true 
to  time,  I  found  O'Flaherty  deep  in  the 
perusal  of  the  bill,  along  which  figured  the 
novel  expedients  for  dining  ]  had  been  in 
the  habit  of  reading  in  every  Dublin  hotel 
since  my  boyhood.  "Mock-turtle,  mut- 
ton, gravy,  roast  beef  and  potatoes — shoul- 
der of  mutton  and  potatoes  ! — ducks  and 
peas,  potatoes  !  ! — ham  and  chicken,  cut- 
In,  steak,  and  potatoes  !  !  ! — apple  tart  and 
cheese:  "with  a  slight  cadenza  of  a  sigh 
over  the  distant  glories  of  Very,  or  still 
better  the  "Freres,"  we  sat  down  to  a  very 
patriarchal  repast,  and  what  may  be  always 
hadjtttM"  excellence  in  Dublin,  a  bottle  of 
Sneyd's  claret. 

Poor  Tom's  spirits  were  rather  below 
their  usual  pitch  ;  and  although  he  made 
many  efforts  to  rally  and  appear  gay,  he 
could  not  accomplish  it.  However,  Ave 
chatted  away  over  old  times  and  old 
friends,  and  forgetting  all  else  but  the 
topics  we  talked  of,  the  timepiece  over  the 
chimney  first  apprised  me  that  two  whole 
hours  had  gone  by,  and  that  it  was  now 
seven  o'clock,  the  very  hour  the  coach 
was  to  start.  I  started  up  at  once,  and, 
notwithstanding  all  Tom's  representations 
of  the  impossibility  of  my  being  in  time, 
had  despatched  waiters  in  different  direc- 
tions for  a  jai-vey,  more  than  ever  deter- 
mined upon  going  ;  so  often  is  it  that 
when  real  reasons  for  our  conduct  are  want- 
ing, any  casual  or  chance  opposition  con- 
firms us  in  an  intention  which  before  was 
but  wavering.  Seeing  me  so  resolved, 
Tom  at  length  gave  way  and  advised  my 
pursuing  the  mail,  which  must  be  now 
gone  at  least  ten  minutes,  and  which,  with 
smart  driving,  I  should  probably  overtake 
before  getting  free  of  the  city,  as  they  have 
usually  many  delays  in  so  doing.  I  at 
once  ordered  out  the  "yellow  post-chaise," 
and  before  many  minutes  had  elapsed, 
what  with  imprecation  and  bribery,  I 
started  in  pursuit  of  his  Majesty's  Cork 
and  Kilkenny  mail  coach,  then  patiently 
waiting  in  the  court-yard  of  the  Post- 
office. 

"  Which  way  now,  your  honor  ?"  said  a 
shrill  voice  from  the  dark — for  such  the 
night  had  already  become,  and  threatened 
with  a  few  heavy  drops  of  straight  rain, 
the  fall  of  a  tremendous  shower. 

"  The Naas road,"  said  I ;  "  and,  harkye, 
my  fine  fellow,  if  you  overtake  the  coach 
in  half  an  hour,  I'll  double  your  fare." 

"  Be  gorra,  I'll  do  my  endayvour,"  said 
the  youth  ;  at  the  same  instant  dashing  in 
both  spurs,  we  rattled  down  .Nassau  Street 
at   a    very  respectable   nace    for   harriers. 


Street  a  ft  ei'  street  we  passed,  and  at  last  I 
perceived  we  had  got  clear  of  the  city,  and 
were  leaving  the   long  line  of  lamp-lights 

behind  US.     The  night,  was  now  piteh  dark. 

I  could  not  see  anything  whatever.  The 
quick  clattering  of  the  wheels,  the  sharp 
crack  of  the  postilion's  whip,  or  the  still 
sharper  tone  of  his  "gee  hup."*  showed  me 
that  we  were  going  at  a  tremendous  pace, 
had  I  not  even  had  1  he  experience  afforded 
by  the  frequent  visits  my  bead  paid  to  the 
roof  of  the  chaise,  so  often  aa  we  hounded 
over  a  stone,  or  splashed  through  a  hollow. 
Dark  and  gloomy  as  it  was,  I  constant- 
ly let  down  the  window,  and  with  half  my 
body  protruded,  endeavored  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  "Chase;"  but  nothing 
could  I  see.  The  rain  now  fell  in  actual 
torrents  ;  and  a  more  miserable  night  it  is 
impossible  to  conceive. 

After  about  an  hour  so  spent,  we  at  last 
came  to  a  check,  so  sudden  and  unexpect- 
ed on  my  part,  that  I  was  nearly  precipi- 
tated, harlequin  fashion,  through  the 
front  win'dow.  Perceiving  that  we  no 
longer  moved,  and  suspecting  that  some 
part  of  our  tackle  had  given  way,  I  let 
down  the  sash,  and  cried  out,  "Well  now, 
my  lad,  anything  wrong  ?"  My  question 
was,  however,  unheard  ;  and  although, 
amid  the  steam  arising  from  the  wet  and 
smoking  horses,  I  could  perceive  several 
figures  indistinctly  moving  about,  I  could 
not  distinguish  what  they  were  doing,  nor 
what  they  said.  A  laugh  I  certainly  did 
hear,  and  heartily  cursed  the  unfeeling 
wretch,  as  I  supposed  him  to  be.  who  was 
enjoying  himself  at  my  disappointment. 
I  again  endeavored  to  rind  out  what  had 
happened,  and  called  out  still  louder  than 
before. 

"  We  are  at  Ra'coole,  your  honor,"  said 
the  boy,  approaching  the  door  of  the 
chaise,  "and  she's  only  beat  us  by  hafe  a 
mile." 

"  Who  the  devil  is  she  ?  "  said  I. 

"  The  mail,  your  honor,  is  always  a  fe- 
male in  Ireland." 

"  Then  why  do  you  stop  now  ?  You're 
not  going  to  feed,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Of  coorse  not,  your  honor  ;  it's  little 
feeding  troubles  these  bastes,  anyhow,  but 
they  tell  me  the  road  is  so  heavy  Ave'll 
never  take  the  chaise  over  the  next  stage 
without  leaders." 

"Without  leaders!"  said  I.  "Pooh! 
my  good  fellow,  no  humbugging ;  four 
horses  for  a  light  post-chaise  and  no  lug- 
gage ;  come,  get  up,  and  no  nonsense." 
At  this  moment  a  man  approached  the 
window  with  a  lantern  in  his  hand,  and  so 
strongly  represented  the  dreadful  state  of 


11  MUl  Y   LORREQUER. 


73 


the  roads  from  the  late  rains — the  length 
of  the  stag* — the  frequency  of  accidents 
latterly  from  under-horsing,  etc.,  etc.,  that 
[yielded  a  reluctant  assent,  and  ordered 
out  the  leaders,  comforting  myself  the 
while,  t hat,  considering  tl 
the  coach  I  made  such  efforts  to  overtake 
was  under  a  pound,  and  that  time  was  no 
object  i"  mi',  I  was  certainly  paying  some- 
what dearly  for  my  character  for  resolu- 
tion. 

A.1  last  we  got  under  way  once  more, 
and  set  oil'  cheered  by  a  tremendous  shoui 

from   at    leas!    a    dozen    persons,    do'il> 
denizens  of  that  interesting  locality,  amid 
which  I  once  again  heard  the  laugh  thai 

had  so  much  annoyed  me  already.  The 
rain  was  falling,  if  possible,  more  heavily 
than  before,  and  had  evidently  set  in  for 
the  entire  night.  Throwing  myself  hack 
into  a  corner  of  the  "leathern  conveni- 
ence."' 1  gave  myself  up  to  the  full  enjoy- 
ment of  the  Rochefoucauld  maxim  that 
there  is  always  a  pleasure  felt  in  the  mis- 
fortunes of  even  our  best  friends,  and  cer- 
tainly experienced  no  small  comfort  in  my 
distress,  by  contrasting  my  present  posi- 
tion with  that  of  my  two  friends  in  the 
saddle,  as  they  sweltered  on  through  mud 
and  mire,  rain  and  storm.  On  we  went, 
splashing,  bumping,  rocking,  and  jolting, 
till  I  began  at  last  to  have  serious  thoughts 
of  abdicating  the  seat  and  betaking  myself 
to  the  bottom  of  the  chaise,  for  safety  and 
protection.  Mile  after  mile  succeeded ; 
and  as  after  many  a  short  and  fitful  slum- 
ber, which  my  dreams  gave  an  apparent 
length  to,  I  awoke  only  to  find  myself  still 
in  pursuit,  the  time  seemed  so  enormously 
protracted,  that  1  began  to  fancy  my  whole 
life  was  to  be  passed  in  the  dark,  in  chase 
of  the  Kilkenny  mail,  as  we  read  in  the 
true  history  of  the  Flying  Dutchman,  who, 
for  his  sins  of  impatience — like  mine — 
spent  centuries  vainly  endeavoring  to 
double  the  Cape,  or  the  Indian  mariner  in 
Moore's  beautiful  ballad,  of  whom  we  are 
told,  as — 

'  •  Many  a  day  to  night  gave  way, 
And  many  a  tnom  succeeded, 
Yet  still  his  flight,  by  day  and  night, 
That  restless  mariner  speeded." 

This  might  have  been  all  very  well  in 
the  tropics,  with  a  smart  craft  and  doubt- 
less plenty  of  sea  store,  but  in  a  chaise,  at 
night,  and  on  the  Naas  road,  I  humbly 
suggest  I  had  all  the  worst  of  the  parallel. 

At  last  the  altered  sound  of  the  wheels 
gave  notice  of  our  approach  to  a  town,  and 
after  about  twenty  minutes'  rattling  over 
the  pavement,  Ave  entered  what  I  supposed. 


correctly,  to  be   Naas.     Here   I   had  long 
since  determined  my  pursuil  should  i 

I   had  done  enough,  and  more  t  ban  ei> 

to  vindicate  my  fame  againsl   any  charge 
of  invsolnt  ion  as  to  leaving  I  >ublin,  and 
was   bel  hinking  me  of  the  vari 
of  prosecuting  my  journey  on  the  morrow, 

W  ben    \\e  ,\n-\V    up    .-  1 1 « I  ( I  <  •  1 1  ]  \    at     the   ii '  of 

the    Swan.      The    arrival    of    a    chaise   and 
four  at  a  .-mall  country  town    ini 
to   the   various    officials    therein    anything 
rather  than   the  traveler  in  pursuit  of  ib..- 
mail,  and  so  t he  momenl   I  arrived 
assailed    with     innumerable    profiEe 

-.  supper,    bed,  and    BO  on.       M  \ 

ious   query    was  thrice  repeated   in   vain, 
••  When  did  t he  coach  pass  ? " 

"The    mail.*'    replied     the    landlord    at 

Length.    "Is  it  the  down  mail  ?" 

Not  understanding  the  technical,  I  an- 
swered,  "Of  course  n"!   the  Down — the 

Kilkenny  and  Cork  mail." 

"From  Dublin,  sir  ?" 

"Yes,  from  Dublin." 

"Hoi  arrived  yet,  sir,  nor  will  it  for 
three-quarters  of  an  hour  :  they  never  leave 
Dublin  till  a  quarter-past  .-even  ;  that  is, 
in  fact,  half-past,  and  their  time  here  is 
twenty  minutes  to  eleven/' 

"Why,  you  stupid  son  of  a  boot-top.  we 
have   been   posting   on   all  night  like  the 
devil,  and  all  this  time  the  coach  has 
ten  miles  behind  us." 

tl  Well,  we've  cotch  them  anyhow."  said 
the  urchin,  as  he  disengaged  himself  from 
his  wet  saddle,  and  stood  upon  the  ground; 
'•and  it  is  not  my  fault  that  the  coach  is 
not  before  us." 

With  a  satisfactory  anathema  upon  all 
innkeepers,  waiters,  ostlers,  and  post  boys, 
with  a,  codicil,  including  coach  propr; 
I  followed  the  smirking  Landlord  into  a 
well-lighted  room,  with  a  blazing  tire,  when, 
having  ordered  supper,  I  soon  regained  my 
equanimity. 

My  rasher  and  poached  eggs,  all  Naas 
could  afford  me,  were  speedily  despatched, 
and  as  my  last  glass  from  my  one  pint  of 
sherry  was  poured  out.  the  long  expected 
coach  drew  up.  A  minute  after,  the 
coachman  entered  to  take  his  dram,  fol- 
lowed by  t  he  guard.  A  more  lamentable 
spectacle  of  condensed  moisture  cannot  be 
conceived  ;  the  rain  fell  from  the  entire 
circumference  of  his  broad-brimmed  hat, 
like  the  ever-flowing  drop  from  the  edge 
of  an  antique  fountain  :  his  drab  coat  had 
become  of  a  deep  orange  hue.  while  his 
huge  figure  loomed  still  larger,  as  he  stood 
amid  a  nebula  of  dam})  that  would  have 
made  an  atmosphere  for  the  Georgium 
Sid  us. 


74 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


"  Going  on  to-night,  sir?"  said  he,  ad- 
dressing me-;  "  severe  weather,  and  no 
chance  of  its  clearing  ;  but  of  course  you're 
inside." 

"  Why,  there  is  very  little  doubt  of 
that."  said  I.  "Are  you  nearly  full  in- 
side." 

"  Only  one,  sir ;  but  he  seems  a  real 
queer  chap;  made  fifty  inquiries  at  the 
office  if  he  could  not  have  the  whole  inside 
to  himself,  and  when  he  beard  that  one 
place  had  been  taken — yours,  I  believe, 
sir — he  seemed  like  a  scalded  bear." 

"You  don't  know  his  name,  then  ?" 

"No,  sir,  he  never  gave  a  name  at  the 
office,  and  his  only  luggage  is  two  brown 
paper  parcels,  without  any  ticket,  and  he 
has  them  inside  ;  indeed,  he  never  lets 
them  from  him,  even  for  a  second." 

Here  the  guard's  horn,  announcing  all 
ready,  interrupted  our  colloquy,  and  pre- 
vented my  learning  anything  further  of 
my  fellow-traveler,  whom,  however,  I  at 
once  set  down  in  my  own  mind  for  some 
confounded  old  churl  that  made  himself 
comfortable  everywhere,  without  ever 
thinking  of  any  one  else's  convenience. 

As  I  passed  from  the  inn  door  to  the 
coach,  I  once  more  congratulated  myself 
that  I  was  about  to  be  housed  from  the 
terrific  storm  of  wind  and  rain  that  railed 
without. 

"Here's  the  step,  sir,"  said  the  guard  ; 
"get  in,  sir  ;  two  minutes  late  already." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  I,  as  I 
half  fell  over  the  legs  of  my  unseen  com- 
panion. "  May  I  request  leave  to  pass 
you?"  While  he  made  way  for  me  for 
this  purpose,  I  perceived  that  he  stooped 
down  towards  the  guard,  and  said  some- 
thing, who,  from  his  answer,  had  evidently 
been  questioned  as  to  who  I  was.  "And 
how  did  he  get  here,  if  he  took  his  place 
in  Dublin  ?"  asked  the  unknown. 

"Came  half  an  hour  since,  sir,  in  a 
chaise  and  four,"  said  the  guard,  as  he 
banged  the  door  behind  him,  and  closed 
the  interview. 

Whatever  might  have  been  the  reasons 
for  my  fellow-traveler's  anxiety  about  my 
name  and  occupation,  I  knew  not,  yet 
could  not  help  feeling  gratified  at  thinking 
that,  as  I  had  not  given  my  name  at  the 
coach-office,  I  was  as  great  a  puzzle  to  him 
as  he  to  me. 

"A  severe  night,  sir,"  said  I,  endeavor- 
ing to  break  ground  in  conversation. 

"  Mighty  severe,"  briefly  and  half-crust- 
ily  replied  the  unknown,  with  a  richness 
of  brogue  that  might  have  stood  for  a  cer- 
tificate of  baptism  in  Cork  or  its  vicinity. 

"  And    a   bad    road  too,    sir,"  said   I, 


remembering    my    lately      accomplished 
stage. 

"'I1  hat's  the  reason  I  always  go  armed," 
said  the  unknown,  clinking  at  the  same 
moment  something  like  the  barrel  of  a 
pistol. 

Wondering  somewhat  at  his  readiness 
to  mistake  my  meaning,  I  fell  disposed  to 
drop  any  further  effort  to  draw  him  out, 
and  was  about  to  address  myself  to  sleep, 
as  comfortably  as  I  could. 

"  I'll  just  trouble  ye  to  lean  off  that  lit- 
tle parcel  there,  sir,"  said  he,  as  he  dis- 
placed from  its  position  beneath  my  elbow 
one  of  the  paper  packages  the  guard  had 
already  alluded  to. 

In  complying  with  this  rather  gruff  de- 
mand, one  of  my  pocket-pistols,  which  I 
carried  in  my  breast  pocket,  fell  out  upon 
his  knee,  upon  which  he  immediately 
started,  and  asked  hurriedly,  ^'And  are 
you  armed  too  ?  " 

"Why,  yes,"  said  I,  laughingly  ;  "men 
of  my  trade  seldom  go  without  something 
of  this  kind." 

"  Begorra  I  was  just  thinking  that- 
same,"  said  the  traveler,  with  a  half  sigh 
to  himself. 

Why  he  should  or  should  not  have 
thought  so  I  never  troubled  myself  to  can- 
vass, and  was  once  more  settling  myself  in 
my  corner,  when  I  was  startled  by  a  very 
melancholy  groan,  which  seemed  to  come 
from  the  bottom  of  my  companion's  heart. 

"Are  you  ill,  sir,  ?"  said  I,  in  a  voice 
of  some  anxiety. 

"You  may  say  that,"  replied  he,  "if 
you  knew  who  you  were  talking  to,  al- 
though maybe  you've  heard  enough  of  me, 
though  you  never  saw  me  till  now." 

"Without  having  that  pleasure  even 
yet,"  said  I,  "it  would  grieve  me  to  think 
you  should  be  ill  in  the  coach." 

"Maybe  it  might,"  briefly  replied  the 
unknown,  with  a  species  of  meaning  in 
his  words  I  could  not  then  understand. 
"  Did  ye  never  hear  tell  of  Barney  Doyle?  " 
said  he. 

"Not  to  my  recollection." 

Then  I'm  Barney,"  said  he,  "that's  in 
all  the  newspapers  in  the  metropolis.  I'm 
seventeen  weeks  in  Jervis  Street  Hospital, 
and  four  in  the  Lunatic,  and  the  devil  a 
better  after  all.  You  must  be  a  stranger, 
I'm  thinking,  or  you'd  know  me  now." 

"  Why,  I  do  confess  I've  only  been  a 
few  hours  in  Ireland  for  the  last  six 
months." 

"Ay,  that's  the  reason;  I  knew  you 
would  not  be  fond  of  traveling  with  me,  if 
you  knew  who  it  was." 

"  Why,  really,"  said  I,  beginning  at  the 


ffABBY  LORREQrxil. 


75 


moment  to  fathom  some  of  the  hints  of 
my  companion,  "  I  did  not  anticipate  the 
pleasure  of  meel  ing  you." 

"It's  pleasure  ye  call   it;  then  there's 
no   accountin'   for   tastes,    as    Dr.    Colles 
said,  when  lie  saw  me  bite  Ousack  Roon 
thumb  off." 

"Bite  a  man's  thumb  off !"  said  1  in 
horror. 

••  Ay,"  said  he,  with  a  kind  of  fiendish 
animation,  "in  one  chop.  I  wish  you'd 
seen  how  [scattered  the  consultation  ;  be- 
gad, they  didn't  wait  to  ax  for  a  fee." 

"Upon  my  soul,  a  very  pleasant  vicin- 
ity."' thought  I.  '"'And  may  I  ask,  sir," 
said  I,  in  a  very  mild  and  soothing  tone  of 
voice — "  may  I  ask  the  reason  for  this  sin- 
gular propensity  of  yours  ?  " 

"  There  it  is  now,  my  dear,"  said  he, 
laying  his  hand  upon  my  knee  familiarly, 
'•  that's  just  the  very  thing  they  can't 
make  out.  Colles  says,  its  all  the  cerioel- 
lum,  ye  see,  that's  inflamed  and  combust- 
ed, and  some  of  the  others  think  it's  the 
spine  ;  and  more,  the  muscles  ;  but  my 
real  impression  is,  the  devil  a  bit  they 
know  about  it  at  all." 

"And  have  they  no  name  for  the  mal- 
ady ?  "  said  I. 

"  Oh,  sure  enough  they  have  a  name  for 
it." 

"  And,  may  I  ask " 

"  Why,  I  think  you'd  better  not,  be- 
cause, ye  see,  maybe  I  might  be  throuble- 
some  to  ye  in  the  night,  though  I'll  not  if 
I  can  help  it ;  and  it  might  be  uncomfort- 
able to  you  to  be  here  if  I  was  to  get  one 
of  the  fits." 

"One  of  the  fits  !  Why,  it's  not  possi- 
ble, sir,"  said  I,  "  you  would  travel  in  a 
public  conveyance  in  the  state  you  men- 
tion ;  your  friends  surely  would  not  per- 
mit it  ! '" 

"  Why,  if  they  Tcneiv,  perhaps,"  slyly  re- 
sponded the  interesting  invalid — "  if  they 
knew,  they  might  not  exactly  like  it,  but, 
ye  see,  I  escaped  only  last  night,  and 
there'll  be  a  fine  hubbub  in  the  morning, 
when  they  find  I'm  off  ;  though  I'm  think- 
ing Eooney's  barking  away  by  this  time." 

"  Kooney  barking  ! — why,  what  does 
that  mean  ?  " 

"  They  always  bark  for  a  day  or  two 
after  they're  bit,  if  the  infection  comes 
first  from  the  dog." 

"  You  are  surely  not  speaking  of  hydro- 
phobia," said  I,  my  hair  actually  bristling 
with  horror  and  consternation. 

"  Ain't  I  !  "  replied  he  ;  "  maybe,  you've 
guessed  it,  though." 

"  And  have  the  malady  on  you  at  pres- 
ent ?  "'  said  I,  trembling  for  the  answer. 


;-  This  is  tin-  ninth   day  Bince    I    took    to 
hit  ing,*'  said  he,  gravely,  perfectly  uncon- 
scious, as  it   appeared,  of  t  he  terror 
informal  ion  was  calculated  to  convey. 

••  A  ml  with  such  a  propensity,  sir,  do 
you  think  yourself  warranted  in  traveling 
in  a  public  coach,  exposing  others " 

'•  You'd  hct  ter  not,  raise  your  voice   that 

way."    quietly    responded    he.     "  If    I'm 

roused,  it'll  bo  worse  for  ye,  t hat's  all." 

■•  Well,  but,"  said  I,  moderating  my 
zeal,  ••  is  it  exactly  prudent,  in  your  pres- 
ent delicato  .  to  undertake  a  jour- 
ney?" 

-Ah."  said  he.  with  a  sigh,  "I've  been 
longing    to    see    the    l'o\-hounds  throw   nlf 

near  Kilkenny;  these  three  weeks  I've 
been  thinking  of  nothing  else  ;  but  I'm 
not  sure  how  my  nerves  will  stand  the  cry  ; 
1  might  be  troublesome." 

"Upon  my  soul,"  thought  I,  "I  shall 
not  select  that  morning  for  my  debut  in 
the  field." 

"I  hope,  sir,  there's  no  river  or  water- 
course on  this  road — anything  else,  I  can, 
I  hope,  control  myself  against,  ;  but  water 
— running  water  particularly— make-  me 
troublesome." 

Well  knowing  what  he  meant  by  the  lat- 
ter phrase,  I  felt  the  cold  perspiratioi 
tling  on  my  forehead  as  I  remembered  that 
we  must  be  within  about  ten  or  twelve 
miles  of  Leighlin  Bridge,  where  we  should 
have  to  pass  a  very  wide  river.  I  strictly 
concealed  this  fact  from  him,  however,  and 
gave  him  to  understand  that  there  was  not 
a  well,  brook,  or  rivulet  for  forty  miles  on 
either  side  of  us.  He  now  sank  intoakind 
of  moody  silence,  broken  occasionally  by  a 
low  muttering  noise,  as  if  speaking  to  him- 
self— what  this  might  portend,  I  knew  not 
— but  thought  it  better,  under  all  circum- 
stances, not  to  disturb  him.  How  com- 
fortable my  present  condition  was.  I  need 
scarcely  remark,  sitting  vis-d-vis  to  a  lun- 
atic, with  a  pair  of  pistols  in  his  possession, 
who  had  already  avowed  his  consciousness 
of  his  tendency  to  do  mischief,  and  his  in- 
ability to  master  it ;  all  this  in  the  dark, 
and  in  the  narrow  limits  of  a  mail-coach, 
where  there  was  scarcely  room  for  defence, 
and  no  possibility  of  escape.  How  heartily 
I  wished  myself  back  in  the  coffee-room  at 
Morrison's,  with  my  poor  friend  Tom. 
The  infernal  chaise,  that  I  cursed  a  hun- 
dred times,  would  have  been  an  ••ex- 
change," better  than  into  the  Life  Guards 
— av,  even  the  outside  of  the  coach,  if  1 
could  only  reach  it,  would,  under  pr 
circumstances,  be  a  glorious  alternative  to 
my  existing  misfortune.  What  were  rain 
and  storm,  thunder  and  lightning,  com- 


76 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


pared  with  the  chances  that  awaited  me 
here  ? — wet  through  I  should  inevitably 
be,  but  then  I  had  not  yet  contracted  the 
horror  of  moisture  my  friend  opposite  la- 
bored under.  "  Ha  !  what  is  that  ? — is  it 
possible  he  can  be  asleep  : — is  it  really  a 
snore  ? — Heaven  grant  that  little  snort  be 
not  what  the  medical  people  callapremoni- 
tory  symptom — if  so,  he'll  be  in  upon  me 
now,  in  no  time.  Ah,  there  it  is  again  ; 
he  must  be  asleep,  surely  ;  now  then  is  my 
time,  or  never. "  Witji  these  words,  mut- 
tered to  myself,  and  a  heart  throbbing  al- 
most audibly  at  the  risk  of  his  awakening, 
I  slowly  let  down  the  window  of  the  coach, 
and  stretching  forth  my  hand,  turned  the 
handle  cautiously  and  slowly  ;  I  next  dis- 
engaged my  legs,  and  by  a  long  continuous 
effort  of  creeping — which  I  had  learned 
perfectly  once,  when  practicing  to  go  as  a 
boa-constrictor  to  a  fancy  ball — I  withdrew 
myself  from  the  seat  and  reached  the  step, 
when  I  muttered  something  very  like  a 
thanksgiving  to  Providence  for  my  rescue. 
With  little  difficulty  I  now  climbed  up  be- 
side the  guard,  whose  astonishment  at  my 
appearance  was  indeed  considerable  ;  that 
any  man  should  prefer  the  out,  to  the  in- 
side of  a  coach,  in  such  a  night,  was  rather 
remarkable  ;  but  that  the  person  so  doing 
should  be  totally  unprovided  with  a  box- 
coat,  or  other  similar  protection,  argued 
something  so  strange,  that  I  doubt  not,  if 
he  were  to  decide  upon  the  applicability  of 
the  statute  of  lunacy  to  a  traveler  in  the 
mail,  the  palm  would  certainly  have  been 
awarded  to  me,  and  not  to  my  late  com- 
panion. Well,  on  we  rolled,  and  heavily 
as  the  rain  poured  down,  so  relieved  did  I 
feel  at  my  change  of  position,  that  I  soon 
fell  fast  asleep,  and  never  woke  till  the 
coach  was  driving  up  Patrick  Street. 
Whatever  solace  to  my  feelings  reaching 
the  outside  of  the  coach  might  have  been 
attended  with  at  night,  the  pleasure  I  ex- 
perienced on  awaking  was  really  not  unal- 
loyed. More  dead  than  alive,  I  sat  a  mass 
of  wet  clothes,  like  nothing  under  heaven 
except  it  be  that  morsel  of  black  and 
spongy  wet  cotton  at  the  bottom  of  a 
schoolboy's  ink  bottle,  saturated  with  rain, 
and  the  black  dye  of  my  coat.  My  hat, 
too,  had  contributed  its  share  of  coloring 
matter,  and  several  long  black  streaks 
coursed  down  my  "  wrinkled  front,"  giv- 
ing me  very  much  the  air  of  an  Indian 
warrior,  who  had  got  the  first  priming  of 
his  war  paint.  I  certainly  must  have  been 
a  rueful  object,  were  I  only  to  judge  from 
the  faces  of  the  waiters  as  they  gazed  on 
me  when  the  coach  drew  up  at  Puce  and 
Walsh's  Hotel.     Cold,  wet,  and  weary  as 


I  was,  my  curiosity  to  learn  more  of  my 
late  agreeable  companion  was  strong  as 
ever  within  me — perhaps  stronger,  from 
the  sacrifices  his  acquaintance  had  exacted 
from  me.  Before,  however,  1  had  disen- 
gaged myself  from  the  pile  of  trunks  and 
carpet  bags  I  had  surrounded  myself  with, 
he  had  got  out  of  the  coach,  and  all  I 
could  catch  a  glimpse  of  was  the  back  of  a 
little  short  man  in  a  kind  of  grey  upper 
coat,  and  long  galligaskins  on  his  legs. 
He  carried  his  two  bundles  under  his  arm, 
and  stepped  nimbly  up  the  steps  of  the 
hotel,  without  ever  turning  his  head  to 
either  side. 

"Don't  fancy  you  shall  escape  me  now, 
my  good  friend,"  I  cried  out,  as  I  sprang 
from  the  roof  to  the  ground,  with  one  jump, 
and  hurried  after  the  great  unknown  into 
the  coffee-room.  By  the  time  I  reached  it 
he  had  approached  the  fire,  on  the  table 
near  which,  having  deposited  the  mysteri- 
ous paper  parcels,  he  was  now  busily  en- 
gaged in  divesting  himself  of  his  great-coat ; 
his  face  was.  still  turned  from  me,  so  that  I 
had  time  to  appear  employed  in  divesting 
myself  of  my  wet  drapery  before  he  per- 
ceived me  ;  at  last  the  coat  was  unbutton- 
ed, the  gaiters  followed,  and,  throwing 
them  carelessly  on  a  chair,  he  tucked  up 
the  skirts  of  his  coat,  and,  spreading  him- 
self comfortably,  a  V Anglais,  before  the 
fire,  displayed  to  my  wondering  and  stupe- 
fied gaze  the  pleasant  features  of  Doctor 
Finucane. 

"  Why,  Doctor — Docter  Finucane,"  cried 
I,  "  is  this  possible  ?  Were  you  then  real- 
ly the  inside  in  the  mail  last  night  ?" 

"  Devil  a  doubt  of  it,  Mr.  Lorrequer  ; 
and,  may  I  make  bould  to  ask,  were  you 
the  outside  ?  " 

"  Then  what,  may  I  beg  to  know,  did 
you  mean  by  your  damned  story  about 
Barney  Doyle,  and  the  hydrophobia,  and 
Cusack  Booney's  thumb — eh  ?  " 

"Oh,  by  the  Lord!"  said  Finucane, 
"  this  will  be  the  death  of  me.  And  it  was 
you  that  I  drove  outside  in  all  the  rain  last 
night  !  Oh,  it  will  kill  Father  Malachi 
outright  with  laughing  when  I  tell  him." 
And  he  burst  out  into  a  fit  of  merriment 
that  nearly'  induced  me  to  break  his  head 
with  the  poker. 

"Am  I  to  understand,  then,  Mr.  Finu- 
cane, that  this  practical  joke  of  yours  was 
contrived  for  my  benefit,  and  for  the  pur- 
pose of  holding  me  up  to  the  ridicule  of 
your  confounded  acquaintances  ?" 

"Nothing  of  the  kind,  upon  my  con- 
science," said  Fin,  drying  his  eyes,  and  en- 
deavoring to  look  sorry  and  sentimental. 

"If  I  had  only  the  least  suspicion  in  life 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


77 


that  it  was  you,  upon  my  oath  I'd  nol  have 
had  the  hydrophobia  at  all,  and  to  tell  you 
the  truth,  you  were  not,  the  only  one  fright- 
ened— you  alarmed  me  devilishly  too." 

"I  alarmed  you!  Why,  how  can  that 
be?" 

"Why,  the  real  affair  is  this  :  I  was 
bringing  these  two  packages  of  notes  down 
to  my  cousin  Callaghan's  hank  in  Cork — 
fifteen  thousand  pounds,  devil  a  Less— and 
when  you  came  into  the  coach  at  Naas, 
after  driving  there  with  your  four  horses, 
I  thought  it  was  all  up  with  me.  The 
guard  just  whispered  in  n-y  ear  that  he  saw 
you  look  it  the  priming  of  your  pistols  be- 
fore getting  in  ;  and  faith  I  said  four  Paters 
and  a  Hail  Mary,  before  you'd  count  five. 
Well,  when  you  got  seated,  the  thought 
came  into  my  mind  that,  maybe,  highway- 
man as  you  were,  you  would  not  like  dying 
a  natural  death,  more  particularly  it'  you 
were  an  Irishman  ;  and  so  I  trumped  up 
that  long  story  about  the  hydrophobia,  and 
the  gentleman's  thumb,  and  devil  knows 
what  besides  ;  and  while  I  was  telling  it, 
the  cold  perspiration  was  running  down  my 
head  and  face,  for  every  time  you  stirred, 
I  said  to  myself,  now,  he'll  do  it.  Two  or 
three  times,  do  you  know,  I  was  going  to 
offer  you  ten  shilling  in  the  pound,  and 
spare  my  life  ;  and  once,  God  forgive  me, 
I  thought  it  would  not  be  a  bad  plan  to 
3hoot  you  by  '  mistake,'  do  you  perceive  ?  " 

"  Why,  upon  my  soul,  I'm  very  much 
obliged  to  you  for  your  excessively  kind  in- 
tentions ;  but  really  I  feel  you  have  done 
quite  enough  for  me  on  the  present  occa- 
sion. But,  come  now,  doctor,  I  must  get 
to  bed,  and  before  I  go,  promise  me  two 
things — to  dine  with  us  to-day  at  the  mess, 
and  not  to  mention  a  syllable  of  what  oc- 
curred last  night — it  tells,  believe  me,  very 
badly  for  both  ;  so,  keep  the  secret,  for  if 
these  confounded  fellows  of  ours  ever  get 
hold  of  it,  I  may  sell  out  and  quit  the 
army  ;  I'll  never  hear  the  end  of  it  !  " 

"Never  fear,  my  boy  ;  trust  me.  I'll 
dine  with  you,  and  you're  safe  as  a  church- 
mouse  for  anything  I'll  tell  them  ;  so,  now 
you'd  better  change  your  clothes,  for  I'm 
thinking  it  rained  last  night." 

Muttering  some  very  dubious  blessings 
upon  the  learned  Fin,  I  left  the  room,  in- 
finitely mofe  chagrined  and  chopfallen  at 
the  discovery  I  had  made,  than  at  all  the 
misery  and  exposure  the  trick  had  con- 
signed me  to.  "  However,"  thought  I,  "  if 
the  doctor  keep  his  word,  all  goes  well  : 
the  whole  affair  is  between  us  both  solely  ; 
but,  should  it  not  be  so,  I  may  shoot  half 
the  mess  before  the  other  half  would  give 
up  quizzing  me."    Revolving  such  pleasant 


thoughts,    I    betook    myself   to  bed,  and, 

what    with  mulled   port,  and   a  hlazing  ti  P-, 

became  once  more  conscious  of  being  a 
warm-blooded  animal,  and  fell  sound 
asleep,  to  dream  of  doctors,  strait-waist- 
ooats,  shaved  heads,  and  all  the  pleat 
associations  my  late  companion's  narrative 
so  readily  suggested. 


CHAPTEB   XV. 

MEMS.    OF   THE    NORTH    CORK. 

ATsix  o'clock  I  had  the  pleasure  of  pre- 
senting the  worthy  Doctor  Finucane  to 
our  mess,  taking  at  the  same  time  an  op- 
portunity, unobserved  by  him,  to  inform 
three  or  four  of  my  brother  officer* 
my  friend  was  really  a  character,  abound- 
ing in  native  drollery,  and  richer  in 
stories  that  even  the  generality  of  his 
countrymen. 

Nothing  could  possively  go  on  I 
than  the  early  part  of  the  evening.  Fin, 
true  to  his  promise,  never  once  alluded  to 
what  I  could  plainly  perceive  was  ever  up- 
permost in  his  mind,  and  what  with  his 
fund  of  humor,  quajntness  of  expression, 
and  quickness  at  reply, garnished  through- 
out by  his  most  mellifluous  brogue,  the 
true  "Bocca  Corkana,"  kept  us  from  one 
roar  of  laughter  to  another.  It  was  just 
at  the  moment  in  which  his  spirits  seemed 
at  their  highest,  that  I  had  the  misfortune 
to  call  upon  him  for  a  story  which  his 
cousin,  Father  Malachi,  had  alluded  to  on 
the  ever-memorable  evening  at  his  house, 
and  which  I  had  a  great  desire  to  hear 
from  Fin's  own  lips.  He  seemed  disposed 
to  escape  telling  it,  and,  upon  my  continu- 
ing to  press  my  request,  drily  remarked. — 

"You  forget,  surely,  my  dear  Mr.  Lor- 
requer,  the  weak  condition  I'm  in  :  and 
these  gentlemen  here,  they  don't  know 
what  a  severe  illness  I've  been  laboring  un- 
der lately,  or  they  would  not  pass  the  de- 
canter so  freely  down  this  quarter." 

I  had  barely  time  to  throw  a  mingled 
look  of  entreaty  and  menace  across  the 
table  when  half  a  dozen  others,  rightly 
judging  from  the  doctor's  tone  and  serio- 
comic expression,  that  his  malady  had 
many  more  symptoms  of  fun  than  suffering 
about  it,  called  out  together, — 

"Oh,  doctor,  by  all  means,  tell  us  the 
nature  of  your  late  attack— pray  relate 
it." 

"With  Mr.  Lorrequer's  permission,  I'm 
your  slave,  gentlemen,"  said  Fin,  finishing 
off  his  glass. 


78 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


"Oh,  as  for  me,"  I  cried,  "Dr.  Finu- 
cane  has  my  full  permission  to  detail  what- 
ever he  pleases  to  think  a  fit  subject  for 
your  amusement." 

"Come,  then,  doctor,  Harry  has  no  ob- 
jection, you  see  ;  so  out  with  it,  and  we 
are  all  prepared  to  sympathize  with  your 
woes  and  misfortunes,  whatever  they  be." 

"  Well,  I  am  sure,  I  never  could  think 
of  mentioning  it  without  his  leave  ;  but 
now  that  he  sees  no  objection — Eh,  do 
you,  though  ?  If  so,  then,  don't  be  wink- 
ing and  making  faces  at  me  ;  but  say  the 
word,  and  devil  a  syllable  of  it  I'll  tell  to 
man  or  mortal." 

The  latter  part  of  this  delectable  speech 
was  addressed  to  me  across  the  table,  in  a 
species  of  stage  whisper,  in  reply  to  some 
telegraphic  signals,  I  had  been  throwing 
him,  to  induce  him  to  turn  the  conversa- 
tion into  another  channel. 

"Then,  that's  enough,"  continued  he, 
sotto  voce — "I  see  you'd  rather  I'd  not  tell 
it." 

"  Tell  it  and  be  d d,"  said  I,  wearied 

by  the  incorrigible  pertinacity  with  which 
the  villain  assailed  me.  My  most  unex- 
pected energy  threw  the  whole  table  into  a 
roar,  at  the  conclusion  of  which  Fin  be- 
gan his  narrative  of  the  mail-coach  adven- 
ture. 

I  need  not  tell  my  reader,  who  has  fol- 
lowed me  throughout  in  these  my  "  Con- 
fessions," that  such  a  story  lost  nothing  of 
its  absurdity  when  entrusted  to  the  doc- 
tor's powers  of  narration  ;  he  dwelt  with  a 
poet's  feeling  upon  the  description  of  his 
own  sufferings,  and  my  sincere  condolence 
and  commiseration  ;  he  touched  with  the 
utmost  delicacy  upon  the  distant  hints  by 
which  he  broke  the  news  to  me  ;  but  when 
he  came  to  describe  my  open  and  undis- 
guised terror,  and  my  secret  and  precipi- 
tate retreat  to  the  roof  of  the  coach,  there 
was  not  a  man  at  the  table  that  was  not 
convulsed  with  laughter — and,  shall  I  ac- 
knowledge it,  even  I  myself  was  unable  to 
withstand  the  effect,  and  joined  in  the 
general  chorus  against  myself. 

"  Well,"  said. the  remorseless  wretch,  as 
he  finished  his  story,  "if  ye  haven't  the 
hard  hearts  to  laugh  at  such  a  melancholy 
subject  !  Maybe,  however,  you're  not  so 
cruel  after  all — here's  a  toast  for  you  :  '  A 
speedy  recovery  to  Cusack  Rooney.'"  This 
was  drunk  amid  renewed  peals,  with  all  the 
honors;  and  I  had  abundant  time  before 
the  uproar  was  over  to  wish  every  man  of 
them  hanged.  It  was  to  no  purpose  that  1 
endeavored  to  turn  the  tables  by  describing 
Fin's  terror  at  my  supposed  resemblance 
to  a  highwayman — his  story  had   the  pre- 


cedence, and  I  met  nothing  during  my  re- 
cital but  sly  allusions  to  mad  dogs,  muzzles, 
and  doctors  ;  and  contemptible  puns  were 
let  off  on  every  side  at  my  expense. 

"It's  a  little  shame  I  take  to  myself  for 
the  mistake,  anyhow,"  said  Fin;  "for, 
put  ting  the  darkness  of  the  night  out  of 
the  question,  I'm  not  so  sure  I  would  not 
have  ugly  suspicions  of  you  by  daylight." 

"And  besides,  doctor,"  added  I,  "it 
would  not  be  your  first  blunder  in  the 
dark." 

"  True  for  you,  Mr.  Lorrecjuer,"  said  he, 
good-humoredly  :  "  and  now  that  I  have 
told  them  your  story,  I  don't  care  if  they 
hear  mine,  though,  maybe,  some  of  ye  have 
heard  it  already  :  it's  pretty  well  known  in 
the  North  Cork." 

We  all  gave  our  disclaimers  on  this 
point,  and  having  ordered  in  afresh  cooper 
of  port,  disposed  ourselves  in  our  most 
easy  attitudes,  while  the  doctor  proceeded 
as  follows  : — 

"  It  was  in  the  hard  winter  of  the  year 
'99  that  we  were  quartered  in  Maynooth, 
as  many  said,  for  our  sins — for  a  more 
stupid  place,  the  Lord  be  merciful  to  it, 
never  were  men  condemned  to.  The  peo- 
ple at  the  college  were  much  better  off 
than  us  ;  they  had  whatever  was  to  be  got 
in  the  country,  and  never  were  disturbed 
by  mounting  guard,  or  night  patrols. 
Many  of  the  professors  were  good  fellows, 
that  liked  grog,  fully  as  well  as  Greek,  and 
understood  short  whist  and  five-and-ten 
quite  as  intimately  as  they  knew  the  Vul- 
gate, or  the  confessions  of  St.  Augustine. 
They  made  no  ostentatious  display  of  their 
pious  zeal,  but  whenever  they  were  not 
fasting  or  praying,  or  something  of  that 
kind,  they  were  always  pleasant  and  agree- 
able ;  and,  to  do  them  justice,  never  re- 
fused, by  any  chance,  an  invitation  to 
dinner — no  matter  at  what  inconvenience. 
Well,  even  this  solace  to  our  affliction  was 
soon  lost  by  an  unfortunate  mistake  of 
that  Orange  rogue  of  the  world,  Major 
Jones,  that  gave  a  wrong  pass  one  night — 
Mr.  Lorrequer  knows  the  story" — (here 
he  alluded  to  an  adventure  detailed  in  an 
early  chapter  of  my  "Confessions") — 
"  and  from  that  day  forward  we  never 
saw  the  pleasant  faces  of  the  Abbe  D' Ar- 
ray, or  the  Professor  of  the  Humanities, 
at"  the  mess.  Well,  the  only  thing  I 
could  do,  was  just  to  take  an  opportunity 
to  drop  in  at  the  college  in  the  evening, 
where  we  had  a  quiet  rubber  of  whist,  and 
a  little  social  and  intellectual  conversation, 
with  maybe  an  oyster  and  a  glass  of  punch, 
just  to  season  the  thing,  before  we  sepa- 
rated, all  done  discreetly  and  quietly — no 


HARRY    LORREQUER. 


79 


shouting,  or  even  singing,  for  the  'su- 
perior' had  a  prejudice    about    profane 

songs.  Well,  one  of  those  nights,  it  was 
about  the  first  week  in  February — 1  was 
detained  by  stress  of  weather  from  eleven 
o'clock, when  we  usually  bade  good  uight,  to 

past  twelve,  and  then  to  one  o'clock,  wait- 
ragfor  a  dry  moment  to  get  home  to  the  bar- 
racks— a  good  mile  and  a  half  off.  Every 
time  old  Father  Mahony  went  to  look  at 
the  weather,  he  came  back,  saying.  '  It's 
worse  it's  getting — such  a  night  of  rain, 
glory  he  to  God,  never  was  seen.  So  there 
was  no  good  in  going  out  to  be  drenched  to 
the  skin,  and  I  sat  quietly  waiting,  taking 
between  times  a  little  punch,  just  not  to 
seem  impatient,  nor  distress  their  rev'r- 
ences.  At  last  it  struck  two,  and  I 
thought,  '  Well,  the  decanter  is  empty 
now,  audi  think,  if  I  mean  to  walk,  I've 
taken  enough  for  the  present  ;'  so,  wishing 
them  all  manner  of  happiness  and  pleas- 
ant dreams,  1  stumbled  my  way  down 
stairs,  and  set  out  on  my  journey.  I  was 
always  in  the  habit  of  taking  a  short  cut  on 
my  way  home  across  the  '  Gurt  nabrocha,' 
the  priests  meadows,  as  they  call  them,  it 
saved  nearly  a  half  a  mile,  although  on  the 
present  occasion,  it  exposed  one  wofully  to 
the  rain,  for  there  was  nothing  to  shelter 
under  the  entire  way,  not  even  a  tree. 
Well,  out  I  set  in  a  half  trot,  for  I  stayed 
so  late  I  was  pressed  for  time  ;  besides,  I 
felt  it  easier  to  run  than  to  walk,  I'm  sure 
I  can't  tell  why  ;  maybe  the  drop  of  drink 
I  took  got  into  my  head.  Well,  I  was  just 
ioo;o;ino;  on  across  the  common,  the  rain 
beating  hard  in  my  face,  and  my  clothes 
pasted  to  me  with  the  wet  ;  notwithstand- 
ing, I  was  singing  to  myself  a  verse  of  an 
old  song  to  lighten  the  road,  when  I  heard 
suddenly  a  noise  near  me  like  a  man  sneez- 
ing. I  stopped  and  listened — in  fact,  it 
was  impossible  to  see  your  hand,  the  night 
was  so  dark — but  I  could  hear  nothing  ; 
the  thought  then  came  over  me,  maybe  it's 
something  '  not  good,'  for  there  were  very 
ugly  stories  going  about  what  the  priests 
used,  to  do  formerly  in  these  meadows  ; 
and  bones  were  often  found  in  different 
parts  of  them.  Just  as  I  was  thinking 
this,  another  voice  came  nearer  than  the 
last,  it  might  be  only  a  sneeze,  after  all, 
but  in  real  earnest  it  was  mighty  like  a 
groan.  '  The  Lord  be  about  us,'  I  said  to 
myself,  '  what's  this  ?  have  ye  the  pass  ?  ' 
I  cried  out,  '  Have  ye  the  pass  ?  or  what 
brings  ye  walking  here,  in  nomine  patrif  ' 
for  I  was  so  confused  whether  it  was  a 
'  sperit '  or  not,  I  was  going  to  address  him 
in  Latin — there's  nothing  equal  to  the  dead 
languages  to  lay  a  ghost-  everybody  knows. 


Faith,  the  moment  I  said  these  words,  he 
gave  another  groan,  die  per  mid  more  mel- 
ancholy like  t  ban  before.     '  I:'  it' 
ye  are,'  -  i   -    1,  '  for  any  n<  •'  your 

friends. '  for  I  t  boughl  hi  ie  id  pur- 

gatory longer  than  he  thought  convenient, 
1  tell  me  what  yoa  wish,  and  go  home 
peaceably  out  of  the  I'ain ,  for  this  weather 
can  do  nil  good  i"  h\  ing  or  dea< 
home,5  said  I,  '  and,  if  it's  massi 
like,  I'll  give  yon  a  day's  pay  m\  Belf,  i 
than  you  should  frel  yourself  this  way.' 
The  words  were  nol  well  out  of  my 
mouth,  when  he  came  bo  near  me  that  the 
sigh  he  gave  went  right  through  both  my 
ears.  '  The  Lord  be  merciful  to  me,5 
I,  trembling.  '  Amen.' .-aid  he.  iii  a  husky 
voice.  The  moment  he  said  that,  my 
mind  was  relieved,  for  I  knew  it  was  rioi  a 
sperit,  and  1  began  to  laugh  heartily  al  my 
mistake.  '  And  who  are  ye  at  all,'  said  1, 
'that's  roving  about,  at  this  hour  of  the 
night  ?  Ye  can't  be  Father  Luke,  for  J 
left  him  asleep  on  the  carpet  before  I  quit- 
ted the  college,  and  faith,  my  friend,  if 
you  hadn't  the  taste  for  divarsion,  ye 
would  not  be  out  now.'  He  coughed  then 
so  hard,  that  I  could  not  make  out  well 
what  he  said,  but  just  perceived  that  he 
had  lost  his  way  on  the  common,  and  was 
a  little  disguised  in  liquor.  'It's  a 
man's  case,'  said  I,  '  to  take  a  little  too 
much,  though  it's  what  I  don't  ever  do 
myself  ;  so,  take  a  hold  of  my  hand,  and 
I'll  see  you  safe.'  I  stretched  out  my 
hand,  and  got  him,  not  by  the  arm.  as  I 
hoped,  but  by  the  hair  of  the  head,  for  he 
was  all  dripping  with  wet,  and  had  lost 
his  hat.  '  Well,  you'll  not  be  better  of  this 
night's  excursion,'  thought  I,  'if  ye  are 
liable  to  the  rheumatism  ;  and  now,  where- 
abouts do  you  live,  my  friend  ?  for  I'll  see 
you  safe  before  I  leave  you.'  What  he 
said  then  I  never  could  clearly  make  out, 
for  the  wind  and  rain  were  both  beating 
so  hard  against  my  face,  that  I  could  not 
hear  a  word  ;  however,  1  was  able  just  to 
perceive  that  he  was  very  much  disguised 
in  drink,  and  spoke  rather  thick.  '  Well, 
nevermind,'  said  I,  'it's  not  a  time  of  day 
for  much  conversal  ion  :  so,  come  along,  and 
I'll  see  you  safe  to  the  guard-In  mi 
you  can't  remember  your  own  place  of 
abode  in  the  meanwhile.'  It  was  just  at 
the  moment  I  said  this  that  I  first  dis- 
covered he  was  not  a  gentleman.  Well, 
now,  you'd  never  guess  how  I  did  it  ; 
I  always  thought  it  a  very 
of  me,  and  both  of  us  in  the 


and,    faith. 

'cute  thing 
dark." 
"  Well,   I 


really  confess  it  must   have 


been  a  very  difficult"-  thing,  under  the  cir 


30 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


cumstances  ;  pray  how  did  you  contrive  ?" 
said  the  major. 

"  Just  guess  how." 

"By  the  tone  of  his  voice,  perhaps,  and 
iiis  accent,"  said  Gurzon. 

"Devil  a  bit;  for  he  spoke  remarkably 
well,  considering  how  far  gone  he  was  in 
liquor." 

"Well,  probably  by  the  touch  of  his 
hand,  no  bad  lest." 

"No  ;  you're  wrong  again,  for  it  was  by 
the  hair  1  had  a  hold  of  him  for  fear  of 
falling,  for  he  was  always  stooping  down. 
Well,  you'd  never  guess  it  ;  it  was  just  by 
the  touch  of  his  fool." 

"His  foot!  Why,  how  did  that  give 
you  any  information  ?  " 

"There  it  is  now  ;  that's  just  what  only 
an 'Irishman  would  ever  have  made  any- 
thing out  of;  for  while  he  was  stumbling 
about,  he  happened  to  tread  upon  my  toes, 
and  never  since  I  was  born  did  I  feel  any- 
thing like  the  weight  of  him.  '  Well,' 
said  I,  '  the  loss  of  your  hat  may  give  you 
a  cold,  my  friend  ;  but  upon  my  conscience 
you  are  in  no  danger  of  wet  feet  with  such 
a  pair  of  strong  brogues  as  you  have  on 
you.'  Well,  he  laughed  at  that  till  I 
thought  he'd  split  his  sides,  and,  in  good 
truth,  I  could  not  help  joining  in  the  fun. 
although  my  foot  was  smarting  like  mad, 
and  so  we  jogged  along  through  the  rain, 
enjoying  the  joke  just  as  if  we*  were  sitting 
by  a  good  fire,  with  a  jorum  of  punch  be- 
tween us.  I  am  sure  I  can't  tell  you  how 
often  we  fell  that  night,  but  my  clothes 
the  next  morning  were  absolutely  covered 
with  mud,  and  my  hat  crushed  in  two;  for 
he  was  so  confoundedly  drunk  it  was  im- 
possible to  keep  him  up,  and  he  always 
kept  boring  along  with  his  head  down,  so 
that  my  heart  was  almost  broke  in.  keeping 
him  upon  his  legs.  I'm  sure  I  never  had 
a  more  fatiguing  march  in  the  whole  Pen- 
insula than  that  blessed  mile  and  a  half  ; 
but  every  misfortune  has  an  end  at  last, 
and  it  was  four  o'clock,  striking  by  the 
college  clock,  as  we  reached  the  barracks. 
After  knocking  a  couple  of  times,  and  giv- 
ing the  countersign,  the  sentry  opened  the 
small  wicket,  and  my  heart  actually  leaped 
with  joy  that  I  had  done  with  my  friend  ; 
so  I  just  called  out  the  sergeant  of  the 
guard,  and  said,  'Will  you  put  that  poor 
fellow  on  the  guard-bed  till  morning,  for 
I  found  him  on  the  common,  and  he  could 
neither  find  his  way  borne  nor  tell  me 
where  he  lived.'  '  And  where  is  he  ? '  said 
the  sergeant.  '  He's  outside  the  gate 
there,'  said  I,  'wet  to  the  skin,  and  shak- 
ing as  if  he  had  the  ague.'  '  And  is  this 
him  ?'  said  the  sergeant,  as  we  went  out- 


side. 'It  is,' said  I;  'maybe  you  know 
him:-''  '  Maybe  I've  a  guess,'  said  he, 
bursting  into  a  fit  of  laughing,  that  I 
thought  he'd  choke  with.  'Well,  ser- 
geant," said  I,  '1  always  took  you  for  a 
liuinane   man  ;  but  if  that's  the  way  you 

treat    a   fellow   creature   in    distress ' 

'A  fellow  creature!'  said  lie,  laughing 
louder  than  before.  'Ay,  a  fellow  crea- 
ture," said  I — for  the  sergeant  was  an  Or- 
angeman— '  and  if  be  differs  from  you  in 
matters  of  religion,  sure  he's  your  fellow 
creature  still.'  'Troth,  doctor,  1  think 
there  s  another  trifling  difference  betune 
us,' said  he.  'Damn  your  politics,'  said 
I;  'never  let  them  interfere  with  true 
humanity.'  Wasn't  I  right,  major  ?  'Take 
good  care  of  him,  and  here's  half-a-crown 
for  ye.'  So,  saying  these  words,  I  steered 
along  by  the  barrack  wall,  and,  after  a  lit- 
tle groping  about,  got  upstairs  to  my  quar- 
ters, Avhen,  thanks  to  a  naturally  good 
constitution  and  regular  habits  of  life,  I 
soon  fell  fast  asleep." 

When  the  doctor  had  said  thus  much, 
he  pushed  his  chair  slightly  from  the 
table,  and,  taking  off  his  wine,  looked 
about  him  with  the  composure  of  a  man 
who  has  brought  his  tale  to  a  termination. 

"  Well,  but,  doctor,"  said  the  major, 
"you  are  surely  not  done.  You  have  not 
yet  told  us  who  your  interesting  friend 
turned  out  to  be." 

"  That's  the  very  thing,  then,  I'm  not 
able  to  do." 

"But,  of  course,"  said  another,  "  your 
story  does  not  end  there." 

"  And  where  the  devil  would  you  have 
it  end  ?  "  replied  he.  "  Didn't  I  bring  my 
hero  home,  and  go  asleep  afterwards  my- 
self, and  then,  with  virtue  rewarded,  how 
could  I  finish  it  better  ?  " 

"  Oh,  of  course  ;  but  still  you  have  not 
accounted  for  a  principal  character  in  the 
narrative,"  said  I. 

"  Exactly  so,"  said  Curzon.  "We  were 
all  expecting  some  splendid  catastrophe  in 
the  morning;  that  your  companion  turned 
out  to  be  the  Duke  of  Leinster,  at  least — 
or  perhaps  a  rebel  general,  Avith  an  im- 
mense price  upon  his  head." 

"Neither  the  one  nor  the  other,"  said 
Fin,  drily. 

"And  do  you  mean  to  say  there  nevei 
was  any  clue  to  the  discovery  of  him  ?" 

"  The  entire  affair  is  wrapt  in  mystery  to 
this  hour,"  said  he.  "There  was  a  joke 
about  it,  to  be  sure,  among  the  officers  ; 
but  the  North  Cork  never  wanted  some- 
thing to  laugh  at." 

"And  what  was  the  joke  ?*"  said  several 
voices  together. 


WE   JOGGED   ALONG   THROUGH   THE   RAIN,    ENJOYING  THE   JOKE   JUST   AS   IP   WE   WERE   SITTING 
BY   A   GOOD    FIRE.    WITH    A   JORUM   OF   PUNCH    BETWEEN   US.      (P.    80.) 


HARRY   LORREQUER. 


81 


"Just  a  complaint  from  old  Mickey 
Oulahan,  i  lie  post-master,  to  i  he  colonel  in 
the  morning,  that  some  of  the  officers  took 
away  his  blind  mare  off  the  common,  and 
thai  the  letters  were  late  in  oonsequen 

•'  And  so,  docter,"  called  oul  seven  or 
eight,  "  your  friend  turm  i  be " 

•■  I 'poii  my  conscienci  aid  bo,  and 

thai  .  would   take   his 

oath  of  ii  :  but  my  own  impression  I'll 
never  disclose  to  the  hour  of  my  death." 


CHAPTEB    XVI. 


THEATRICALS. 


Our  seance  at  the  mess  that  night  was  a 
late  one,  for  after  we  had  discussed  some 
coopers  of  claret,  there  was  a  very  general 
pablicfeeling  in  favor  of  abroiled  bone  and 
some  devilled  kidneys,  followed  by  a  very 
ample  bowl  of  bishop,  over  which  simple 
condiments  we  talked  ".green-room"  till 
near  the  break  of  day. 

From  having  been  so  long  away  from 
the  corps  I  had  much  to  learn  of  their  do- 
ings and  intentions  to  do,  and  heard  with 
much  pleasure  that  they  possessed  an  ex- 
ceedingly handsome  theatre,  well  stocked 
with  scenery,  dresses,  and  decorations  ; 
that  they  were  at  the  pinnacle  of  public 
estimation,  from  what  they  had  already  ac- 
complished, and  calculated  on  the  result  of 
my  appearance  to  crown  them  with  honor. 
I  had,  indeed,  very  little  choice  left  me  in 
the  matter  ;  for  not  only  had  they  hooked 
me  for  a  particular  part,  but  bills  were  al- 
ready in  circulation,  and  sundry  little  three- 
cornered  notes  enveloping  them,  were  sent 
to  the  elite  of  the  surrounding  country, 
setting  forth  that  "on  Friday  evening  the 
committee  of  the  garrison  theatricals,  in- 
tending to  perform  a  dress  rehearsal  of  The 
Family  Party  request  the  pleasure  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs. \s  company  on  the  occa- 
sion. Mr.  Lorrequer  will  undertake  the 
part  of  Captain  Beaugarde.  Supper  at 
twelve.     An  answer  will  oblige." 

The  sight  of  one  of  these  pleasant  little 
epistles,  of  which  the  foregoing  is  a  true 
copy,  was  presented  to  me  as  a  great  favor 
that  evening,  it  having  been  agreed  upon 
that  I  was  to  know  nothing  of  their  high 
and  mighty  resolves  till  the  following  morn- 
ing. It  was  to  little  purpose  that  1  assur- 
ed them  all.  collectively  and  individually, 
that  of  Captain  Beaugarde  I  absolutely 
knew  nothing — had  never  read  the  piece — 
nor  even  seen  it  performed.  I  felt,  too, 
that  my  last  appearance   in  character  in  a 

VOL.  I. — (5 


•'  Family  Party"  was  anything  bui  - 
ful  ;  and  1  i rembled  lest,  in  tn  jion 

of  the  subjeel ,  some  confounded  allusioi 
my  adventure  al    Cheltenham   mighi  come 
out.     Happily  they  scemi  d  all  ig  norai 

:  and  fearing  to  bring 
:ni\  way  to  tl  of  my  I  .1 

fell  m  wit  h  t  heir  humor,  and  agreed  tin 
it  were  possible  in  the  limited  i  ime  alio 
me  to  manage  ii  —  1   had  bui   four  diiys — I 
should  undertake   the   character.      M\  con- 
currence failed  to  give  the  full  satisfui 
1  expected,  and  they  so  habitually  did  what 
they  pleased  with  me,  that,  like  all  mi 
disposed,  1  never  pot    the  credit  for  con- 
ion  which  a  man  more  niggardly  of  his 
services  may  always  command. 

"  To  l.e  -me  you  will  do  it,    ilarr\  ." 
the  major;  "why  no!  ?     1  could  learn  the 
thing  myself  in   a  couple  of  hours,  as  for 
that." 

Now,  be    it    known    that    the    afo] 
major  was  so  incorrigibly  slow  of  study,  and 
dull  of  comprehension,  thai   he  had  l 
successively    degraded     at    our    theatrical 
board  from  the  delivering  of  a  stagi    i 
sage  to  the  office  of  check-taker. 

"He's  so  devilish  good  in  the  love 
scene,"  said  the  junior  ensign,  with  the 
white  eyebrows.  "I  say,  Curzon,  you'll 
be  confoundedly  jealous  though,  for  he  is 
to  play  with  Fanny.'' 

"I  rather  think  not,"  said  Curzon,  who 
was  a  little  tipsy. 

'■'Oh  yes,"  said  Frazer,  "Hepton  is 
right.  Lorrequer  has  Fanny  for  his 
miere ;  and,  upon  my  soul,  I  should  feel 
templed  to  take  the  part  myself  upon  the 
same  terms;  though  1  verily  believe  I 
should  forget  I  was  acting,  and  make  ii' 
love  to  her  on  the  Btage. 

"And  who  may  la  charmante  Fanny 
be  ?"  said  I,  with  something  of  the  air  of 
the  "  Dey  of  Algiers"  in  my  tone. 

''Let  Curzon  tell  him,"  said  several 
voices  together  ;  "he  is  the  only  man  to 
do  justice  to  such  perfection." 

••Quiz  away,  my  merry  men,"  said  Cur- 
zon ;    "all  1  know  is,  thai  you   are   a   con- 
foundedly envious  set  of  fellows  ;  and 
lovely  a  girl  had  thrown   her  eyes   on   one 
amongst  you " 

••  Hip  f  hip  !  hurrah  !"  said  old  Fitz- 
gerald. •'Curzon  is  a  l;o\\>'  man.  He'll  be 
off  to  the  palace  for  a  license  some  fine 
morning,  or  1  know  nothing  of  such  mat- 
ters. " 

••Well,  but,"  said  I,  "if  matters  are 
really  as  you  all  say.  why  does  not  Curion 
take  the  part  you  destine  for  me  ?" 

••  We  dare  iiot  trust  him,"  said  the  ma- 
jor ;  "  Lord  bless  you,  when  the  call-boy 


82 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


would  sing  out  for  Captain  Beaugarde  in 
the  second  act,  we'd  find  that  he  had  le- 
vanted with  our  best  slashed  trousers,  and 
a  bird-of-paradise  feather  in  his  cap." 

"Well,"  thought  I,  "this  is  better  at 
least  than  I  anticipated,  for  if  nothing  else 
offers,  I  shall  have  rare  fun  teasing  my 
friend  Charley," — for  it  was  evident  that 
he  had  been  caught  by  the  lady  in  ques- 
tion. 

"And  so  you'll  stay  with  us;  give  me 
your  hand — you  are  a  real  trump."  These 
words,  which  proceeded  from  a  voice  at  the 
lower  end  of  the  table,  were  addressed  to 
my  friend  Finucane. 

"I'll  stay  with  ye,  upon  my  conscience," 
said  Fin  ;  "  ye  have  a  most  seductive  way 
about  ye,  and  a  very  superior  taste  in  milk 
punch." 

"But,  doctor,"  said  I,  "you  must  not 
be  a  drone  in  the  hive  ;  what  will  ye  do 
for  us  ?  You  should  be  a  capital  Sir 
Lucius  O'Trigger,  if  we  could  get  up  The 
Rivals." 

"  My  forte  is  the  drum — the  big  drum  ; 
put  me  among  what  the  Greeks  call  the 
'mousikoi,'  and  I'll  astonish  ye." 

It  was  at  once  agreed  that  Fin  should 
follow  the  bent  of  his  genius;  and  after 
some  other  arrangements  for  the  rest  of 
the  party,  we  separated  for  the  night,  hav- 
ing previously  toasted  the  "  Fanny,"  to 
which  Curzon  attempted  to  reply,  but 
sank,  overpowered  by  punch  and  feelings, 
and  looked  unutterable  things,  without  the 
power  to  frame  a  sentence. 

During  the  time  which  intervened  be- 
tween the  dinner  and  the  night  appointed 
for  our  rehearsal,  I  had  more  business 
upon  my  hands  than  a  Chancellor  of  the 
Exchequer  the  week  of  the  budget  being 
produced.  The  whole  management  of 
every  department  fell,  as  usual,  to  my 
share,  and  all  those  who,  previously  to  my 
arrival,  had  contributed  "".heir  quota  of 
labor,  did  nothing  whatever  now  but 
lounge  about  the  stage,  or  s«t  half  the  day 
in  the  orchestra,  listening  to  some  con- 
founded story  of  FinuCane's,  who  contrived 
to  have  an  everlasting  mob  of  actors, 
scene-painters,  fiddlers,  and  call-boys  al- 
ways about  him,  who,  from  their  uproari- 
ous mirth,  and  repeated  shouts  of  merri- 
ment, nearly  drove  me  distracted,  as  I 
stood  almost  alone  and  unassisted  in  the 
whole  management.  Of  la  belle  Fanny,  all 
I  learned  was,  that  she  was  a  professional 
actress  of  very  considerable  talent,  and  ex- 
tremely pretty  ;  that  Curzon  had  fallen 
desperately  in  love  with  her  the  only  night 
she  had  appeared  on  the  boards  there  ; 
and  that,  to  avoid  his  absurd  persecution 


of  her,  she  had  determined  not  to  come 
into  town  until  the  morning  of  the  rehear- 
sal, she  being  at  that  time  on  a  visit  to  the 
house  of  a  country  gentleman  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. Here  was  a  new  difficulty  I  had 
to  contend  with — to  go  through  my  part 
alone  was  out  of  the  question  to  making  it 
effective  ;  and  I  felt  so  worried  and  har- 
assed, that  I  often  fairly  resolved  on  taking 
the  wings  of  the  mail,  and  flying  away  to 
the  uttermost  parts  of  the  south  of  Ireland, 
till  all  was  still  and  tranquil  again.  By 
degrees,  however,  I  got  matters  into  better 
train,  and  by  getting  over  our  rehearsal 
early  before  Fin  appeared,  as  he  usually 
slept  somewhat  later  after  his  night  at 
mess,  I  managed  to  have  things  in  some- 
thing like  order  ;  he  and  his  confounded 
drum,  which,  whenever  he  was  not  story- 
telling, he  was  sure  to  be  practicing  on, 
being,  in  fact,  the  greatest  difficulties  op- 
posed to  my  managerial  functions.  One 
property  he  possessed,  so  totally  at  vari- 
ance with  all  habits  of  order,  that  it  com- 
pletely baffled  me.  So  numerous  were  his 
narratives,  that  no  occasion  could  possibly 
arise,  no  chance  expression  be  let  fall  on 
the  stage,  but  Fin  had  something  he 
deemed  a  propos,  and  which,  sans  facon, 
he  at  once  related  for  the  benefit  of  all 
whom  it  might  concern  ;  that  was  usually 
the  entire  corps  dramatlque,  Avho  eagerly 
turned  from  stage  directions  and  group- 
ings, to  laugh  at  his  ridiculous  jests.  I 
shall  give  an  instance  of  this  habit  of  in- 
terruption, and  let  the  unhappy  wight 
who  has  filled  such  an  office  as  mine  pity 
my  woes. 

I  was  standing  one  morning  on  the  stage, 
drilling  my  corps  as  usual.  One  most  re- 
fractory spirit,  to  whom  but  a  few  words 
were  entrusted,  and  who  bungled  even 
those,  I  was  endeavoring  to  train  into  some- 
thing like  his  part. 

"  Oome,  now,  Elsmore,  try  it  again — 
just  so.  Yes,  come  forward  in  this  man- 
ner— take  her  hand  tenderly — press  it  to 
your  lips ;  retreat  towards  the  flat,  and  then 
bowing  deferentially — thus,  say  'Good 
night,  good  night ;'  that's  very  simple,  eh  ? 
Well,  now,  that's  all  you  have  to  do,  and 
that  brings  you  over  here  ;  so  you  make 
your  exit  at  once." 

"Exactly  so,  Mr.  Elsmore  ;  always  con- 
trive to  be  near  the  door  under  such  cir- 
cumstances. That  was  the  way  with  my 
poor  friend  Curran.  Poor  Philpot,  when 
he  dined  with  the  Guild  of  Merchant  Tail- 
ors, they  gave  him  a  gold  box,  with  their 
arms  upon  it — a  goose  proper,  with  nee- 
dles saltier-wise,  or  something  of  that  kind  ; 
and  they  made  him  free  of  their  'ancient 


HARRY   LORREQUER. 


83 


and  loyal  corporation,'  and  gave  him  a  very 
grand  dinner.  Well,  Curran  was  mighty 
pleasant  and  agreeable,  and  kept  them 
laughing  all  night,  till  the  moment  he  rose 
to  go  away,  and  then  lie  told  them  that  he 
never  spent  so  happy  an  evening,  and  all 
that.  'But,  gentlemen,'  said  ne, 'busi- 
ness has  its  calls  ;  1  in usl,  tear  myself  away  ; 
so  wishing  you  now' — then1  were  jusl 
eighteen  of  them — •wishing  yon  now 
every  happiness  and  prosperity,  permit  me 
to  take  my  leave'" — and  here  he  stole  near 
the  door — 'to  take  my  leave,  and  bid  you 
both  good  night.'"  With  a  running  fire  of 
such  stories,  it  may  be  supposed  how  diffi- 
cult was  my  task  in  getting  anything  done 
upon  the  stage. 

Well,  at  last  the  long-expected  Friday 
arrived,  and  1  rose  in  the  morning  with  all 
that  peculiar  tourbillon  of  spirits  that  a 
man  feels  when  he  is  half  pleased  and 
whole  frightened  with  the  labor  before 
him.  I  had  scarcely  accomplished  dress- 
ing when  a  servant  tapped  at  my  door,  and 
begged  to  know  if  I  could  spare  a  few  mo- 
ments to  speak  to  Miss  Ersler,  who  was  in 
the  drawing-room.  I  replied,  of  course,  in 
the  affirmative,  and,  rightly  conjecturing 
that  my  fair  friend  must  be  the  lovely 
Fanny  already  alluded  to,  followed  the 
servant  downstairs. 

"Mr.  Lorrequer,"  said  the  servant,  and, 
closing  the  door  behind  me,  left  me  in  the 
sole  possession  of  the  lady. 

"  Will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  sit  here, 
Mr.  Lorrequer  ?"  said  one  of  the  sweetest 
voices  in  the  world,  as  she  made  room  for 
me  on  the  sofa  beside  her.  ';  I  am  partic- 
ularly short-sighted  ;  so  pray  sit  near  me,  as 
I  really  cannot  talk  to  any  one  I  don't  see." 

I  blundered  out  some  platitude  of  a  com- 
pliment to  her  eyes — the  fullest  and  most 
lovely  blue  that  ever  man  gazed  into — 
at  which  she  smiled  as  if  pleased,  and  con- 
tinued, "Now,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  I  have  real- 
ly been  longing  for  your  coming  ;  for  your 
friends  of  the  4 — th  are  doubtless  very 
dashing  spirited  young  gentlemen,  perfect- 
ly versed  in  war's  alarms  ;  but,  pardon  me 
if  I  say  that  a  more  wretched  company  of 
strolling  wretches  never  graced  a  barn.  Now, 
come,  don't  he  angry,  but  let  me  proceed. 
Like  all  amateur  people,  they  have  the 
happy  knack,  in  distributing  the  charac- 
ters, to  put  every  man  in  his  most  unsuit- 
able position  ;  and  then  that  poor  dear 
thing,  Curzon — 1  hope  he's  not  a  friend  of 
yours — by  some  dire  fatality  always  plays 
the  lovers'  parts,  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  True,  I  as- 
sure you,  so  that  if  you  had  not  been  an- 
nounced as  coming  this  week,  I  should 
have  left  them  and  2;one  off  to  Bath." 


Eei  ■  and   adjusted   her  brown 

ringlets  at  t  hi   s  ing  me  ample  time 

to  admire  one  of  t  he  most  perfeel  fig         I 

ever    beheld.      She    was    most     \,< rum i ugly 
d,   and    betrayed    a    foot     and    ankle 
which    for    symmetry    and    ••  smalli 
might  have  challenged  the  Rue  Rivoli  it- 
self to  match  it. 

My  firsl  t  hought  was  poor  <  'urzoi 
second,  happy  and  thrice  fortunate  Harry 
Lorrequer.  Then'  was  no  t  ime,  however, 
for  indulgence  in  such  very  pardonable 
gratulation  :  so  I  at  once  proceeded  pour 
faire  I'aimable,  to  profess  my  utter  inabil- 
ity to  do  justice  to  her  undoubted  talents, 
but  slily  added  "that  in  the  love-making 
part  of  the  mat  ter  she  should  never  be  able 
to  discover  that  1  was  not  in  earnest."  We 
chatted  then  gaily  for  upwards  of  an  hour, 
until  the  arrival  of  her  friend's  carnage 
was  announced,  when  tendering  me  most 
graciously  her  hand,  she  smiled  benignly, 
and  saying.  " Au  revoir,  done,"  droveoff. 

As  I  stood  upon  the  steps  of  the  hotel, 
viewing  her  "  out  of  the  visible  horizon," 
1  was  joined  by  Curzon,  who  evidently, 
from  his  self-satisfied  air  and  jaunty  gate, 
little  knew  how  he  stood  in  the  fair 
Fanny's  estimation. 

"Very  pretty,  very  pretty,  indeed, 
deeper,  and  deeper  still,"  cried  he.  allud- 
ing to  my  most  courteous  salutation  as  the 
carriage  rounded  the  corner,  and  its  lovely 
occupant  kissed  her  hand  once  mor 
say,  Harry,  my  friend,  you  don't  think 
that  was  meant  for  you,  I  should  hope  ?" 

•'What!  the  kiss  of  the  handy  Y  s, 
faith,  but  I  do." 

'"Well,  certainly  that  is  good!  why, 
man,  she  just  saw  me  coming  up  that  in- 
stant. She  and  I — we  understand  each 
other — never  mind,  don't  be  cross — no 
fault  of  yours,  you  know." 

"Ah,  so  she  is  taken  with  you,"  said  I. 
"Eh,  Charley?" 

"Why,  I  believe  that.  I  may  confess 
to  yon  the  real  state  of  matters.  She  was 
devilishly  struck  with  me  the  first  time  we 
rehearsed  together.  We  soon  got  up  a  lit- 
tle flirtation  ;  hut  the  other  night,  when  I 
played  Mirabel  to  her,  it  finished  the 
affair.  She  was  quite  nervous,  and  could 
scarcely  go  through  with  her  part.  1  saw 
it,  and  upon  my  soul  I  am  sorry  for  it ; 
she's  a  prodigiously  tine  girl — such  lips  and 
such  teeth  !  Egad,  I  was  delighted  when 
you  came  ;  for,  you  see.  1  was  in  a  manner 
obliged  to  take  one  line  of  character,  ami 
I  saw  pretty  plainly  where  it  must  end  ; 
and  you  know  with  you  it's  quite  d lifer- 
ent;  "she'll  laugh  and  chat,  and  all  that 
sort   of  thing,  but    she'll    not    V    carried 


84 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS, 


away  by  her  feelings;  you  understand 
me." 

"  Oh,  perfectly  ;  it's  quite  different,  as 
you  observed." 

If  I  had  not  been  siipported  internally 
during  tins  short  dialogue  by  the  recently 
expressed  opinion  of  the  dear  Fanny  her- 
self upon  my  friend  Ourzon's  merits,  I 
think  I  should  have  been  tempted  to  take 
the  liberty  of  wringing  his  neck  off. 
However,  the  affair  was  much  better  as  it 
stood,  as  I  had  only  to  wait  a  little  with 
proper  patience,  and  1  had  no  fears  but 
that  my  friend  Charley  would  become  the 
hero  of  a  very  pretty  episode  for  the  mess. 

'•  80  I  suppose  you  must  feel  consider- 
ably bored  by  this  kind  of  thing,"  I  said. 
endeavoring  to  draw  him  out. 

••'Why,  I  do,"  replied  he,  "and  I  do 
not.  The  girl  is  very  pretty.  The  place 
is  dull  in  the  morning  ;  and  altogether  it 
helps  to  fill  up  time." 

'•  Well,"  said  I,  "you  are  always  fortu- 
nate, Curzon.  You  have  ever  your  share 
of  what  floating  luck  the  world  affords."' 

"It  is  not  exactly  all  luck,  my  dear 
friend;  for,  as  I  shall  explain  to  you " 

"Not  now,"  replied  I.  "  for  I  have  not 
yet  breakfasted."  So  saying,!  turned  into 
the  coffee-room,  leaving  the  worthy  adju- 
tant to  revel  in  his  fancied  conquest,  and 
pity  such  unfortunates  as  myself. 

After  an  early  dinner  at  the  club-house, 
I  hastened  down  to  the  theatre,  where  nu- 
merous preparations  for  the  night  were  go- 
ing forward.  The  green-room  was  devoted 
to  the  office  of  a  supper-room,  to  which 
the  audience  had  been  invited.  The  dress- 
ing-rooms were  many  of  them  filled  with 
the  viands  destined  for  the  entertainment, 
where,  among  the  wooden  fowls  and  "im- 
practicable "  flagons,  were  to  be  seen  very 
imposing  pasties  and  flasks  of  champagne, 
littered  together  in  most  admirable  disor- 
der. The  confusion  naturally  incidental 
to  all  private  theatricals  was  tenfold  in- 
creased by  the  circumstances  of  our  pro- 
jected supper.  Cooks  and  scene-shifters, 
fiddlers,  and  waiters,  were  most  inextri- 
cably mingled  :  ami.  as  in  all  similar  cases, 
the  least  important  functionaries  took  the 
greatest  airs  upon  them,  and  appropriated 
without  hesitation  whatever  came  to  their 
hands— tli us,  the  cook  would  not  have 
scrupled  to  light  a  tire  with  the  violoncello 
of  the  orchestra  ;  and  I  actually  caught  one 
of  the  "marmitons "making  a  "souffle" 
in  a  brass  helmet  I  had  once  worn  when 
astonishing  the;  world  as  Coriolanus. 

Six  o'clock  struck.  "In  another  short 
nour  and  we  begin,"  thought  I,  with  a 
sinking  heart,  as  I  looked  upon  the  littered 


stage  crowded  with  hosts  of  fellows  that  had 
nothing  todo  there.  Figaro  himself  never 
wished  for  ubiquity  more  than  I  did.  as  J 
hastened  from  place  to  place,  entreating, 
cursing,  begging,  scolding,  execrating, 
and  imploring  by  turns.  To  mend  the 
matter,  the  devils  in  the  orchestra  had  be- 
gun to  tune  their  instruments,  and  I  had 
to  bawl  like  a  boatswain  of  a  man-of-war 
to  be  heard  by  the  person  beside  me. 

As  ^evvn  o'clock  struck,  I  peeped 
through  the  small  aperture  in  the  curtain, 
and  saw.  to  my  satisfaction — mingled,  I  con- 
fess, with  fear — that  the  house  was  nearly 
filled,  the  lower  tier  of  boxes  entirely  so. 
There  were  a  great  many  ladies  handsomely 
dressed,  chatting  gaily  with  their  chaper- 
ons, and  I  recognized  some  of  my  acquaint- 
ance on  every  side  ;  in  fact,  there  was 
scarcely  a  family  of  rank  in  the  county 
that  had  not  at  least  some  member  of  it 
present.  As  the  orchestra,  struck  up  the 
overture  to  Bon  Griom  Yin  i,  1  retired  from  my 
place  to  inspect  the  arrangements  behind. 

Before  the  performance  of  77//"  Family 
Party  we  were  to  have  a  little  one-act 
piece,  called  A  Day  in  Madrid,  written  by 
myself — the  principal  characters  being  ex- 
pressly composed  for  "  Miss  Ersler  and  Mr. 
Lorrequer." 

The  story  of  this  trifle  it  is  not  neces- 
sary to  allude  to  ;  indeed,  if  it  were,  I 
should  scarcely  have  patience  to  do  so,  so 
connected  is  my  recollection  of  it  with  the 
distressing  incident  which  followed. 

In  the  first  scene  of  the  piece,  the  cur- 
tain rising  displays  la  belle  Fanny  sitting 
at  her  embroidery  in  the  midst  of  a  beau- 
tiful garden,  surrounded  with  statues, 
fountains,  etc.;  at  the  back  is  seen  a  pa- 
vilion in  the  ancient  Moorish  style  of  ar- 
chitecture, over  which  hang  the  branches 
of  some  large  and  shady  trees — she  comes 
forward,  expressing  her  impatience  at  the 
delay  of  her  lover,  whose  absence  she  tor- 
tures herself  to  account  for  by  a  hundred 
different  suppositions,  and  after  a  very 
sufficient  expose  of  her  feelings,  and  some 
little  explanatory  details  of  her  private  his- 
tory, conveying  a  very  clear  intimation  of 
her  own  amiability  and  her  guardian's 
cruelty,  she  proceeds,  after  the  fashion  of 
other  young  ladies  similarly  situated,  to 
give  utterance  to  her  feedings  by  a  song; 
after,  therefore,  a  suitable  prelude  from 
the  orchestra,  for  which,  considering  the 
impassioned  state  of  her  mind,  she  waits 
patiently,  she  comes  forward  and  begins  a 
melody, — 


Oh,  why  is  he   far  from  the   heart  that  adores 
him?" 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


85 


in  which.,  for  two  verses,  she  proceeds  with 
sundry  solfeggi  to  account  Eor  the  circum- 
stances, and  show  her  own  disbelief  of  the 
explanation  in  a  very  satisfactory  manner, 

— meanwhile,  for  1  must  not  expose  my 
reader  to  an  anxiety  on  my  account,  sim- 
ilar to  what  the  dear  Fanny  here  labored 
under,  I  was  making  the  necessary  prepara- 
tions Eor  flying  to  her  presence,  ami 
clasping  her  to  my  heart — that  is  to  say, 
[  had  already  gammed  on  a  pair  of  mus- 
tachios,  had  corked  and  arched  a,  ferocious 
pair  of  eyebrows,  which,  with  my  rouged 
cheeks,  gave  me  a  look  half  Whiskerando, 
half  Grimaldi  ;  these  operations  were  per- 
formed, from  the  stress  of  circumstances, 
sufficiently  near  the  object  of  my  affections 
to  afford  me  the  pleasing  satisfaction  of 
hearing  from  her  own  sweet  lips  her  solici- 
tude about  me — in  a  word,  all  the  dressing- 
rooms  hut  two  being  filled  with  hampers 
of  provisions,  glass,  china,  and  crockery, 
and  from  absolute  necessity,  1  had  no 
other  spot  where  I  could  attire  myself  un- 
seen, except  in  the  identical  pavilion  al- 
ready alluded  to.  Here,  however,  I  was 
quite  secure,  and  had  abundant  time  also, 
for  1  was  not  to  appear  till  scene  the  sec- 
ond, when  I  was  to  come  forward  in  full 
Spanish  costume,  "every  inch  a  hidalgo." 
Meantime.  Fanny  had  been  singing — 

"  Oh,  why  is  he  far,"  etc.,  etc. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  last  verse,  just  as 
she  repeats  the  words  "  Why.  why,  why," 
in  a  very  distracted  and  melting  cadence, 
a  voice  behind  startles  her — she  turns  and 
beholds  her  guardian— so  at  least  run  the 
course  of  events  in  the  real  drama — that  it 
should  follow  thus  now,  however,  Diis 
aliter  vision — for  just  as  she  came  to  the 
very  moving  apostrophe  alluded  to,  and 
called  out,  "  Why  comes  he  not  ?  " — a  gruff 
voice  from  behind  answered  in  a  strong 
Cork  brogue,  "Ah!  would  ye  have  him 
come  in  a  state  of  nature?"'  At  the  in- 
stant a  loud  whistle  ran  through  the 
house,  and  the  pavilion  scene  slowly  drew 
up,  discovering  me,  Harry  Lorrequer, 
seated  on  a  small  stool  before  a  cracked 
looking-glass,  my  only  habiliments,  as  I 
am  an  honest  man,  being  a  pair  of  long 
white  silk  stockings,  and  a  very  richly  em- 
broidered shirt  with  point-lace  collar. 
The  shouts  of  laughter  are  yet  in  my  ears, 
the  loud  roar  of  inextinguishable  mirth. 
which,  after  the  first  brief  pause  of  aston- 
ishment gave  way.  shook  the  entire  build- 
ing— my  recollection  may  well  have  been 
confused  at  such  a  moment  of  unutterable 
shame  and  misery  ;  yet,  I  clearly  remem- 


ber seeing  Fanny.  I  Fanny  h 

fall    into    an    armchair    marly     suffo 
with  convulsions  of  laughter.     I  can 
On  :  what,  I  did  I  know  not.      I  supp< 
exit  was  additionally  ludicrous,  i<.\-  ;i  new 
eclat  de  rire   followed   me  out.     I   rushed 
out  of  the  theatre,  and  wrapping  only  my 
cloak    round   me,  ran   without    stopping  to 
i  in'  barracks.     Bui  1  m 

mm  sacred   for  even  "  <  >onf<  •  - 
like  mine,  so   let  n  he  curtain  of 

my  room  and  my  chapter  together,  ai 
adieu  for  a  season. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


TnE    WAGF.R. 


It  might  have  been  about  six  weeks  after 
the  events  detailed  in  my  last  chapter  had 
occurred,  that  Gurzon  broke  suddenly  into 
my  room  one  morning  before  I  had 
and     throwing     a    precautionary 
around,  as  if  to  assure  himself  that  wi 
alone,  seized  my  band  with  amost  unusual 
earnestness,  and,  steadfastly  looking  at  me, 
said, — 

"Harry  Lorrequer,  will  you  stand  by 
me?" 

So  sudden  and  unexpected  was  his  ap- 
pearance at  the  moment,  that  I  really  felt 
but  half  awake,  and  kept  puzzling  myself 
for  an  explanation  of  the  scene,  rather  than 
thinking  of  a  reply  to  his  question  :  per- 
ceiving which,  and  auguring  but  badly  from 
my  silence,  be  continued, — 

"  Am  I,  then,  really  deceived  in  what  I 
believed  to  be  an  old  and  tried  friend  ?" 

"  Why.  what  the  devil's  the  matter  ?  "  I 
cried  out.  "  If  you  are  in  a  scrape  why  of 
course  you  know  I'm  your  man.  'out,  still, 
it's  only  fair  to  let  one  know  something  of 
the  matter  in  the  meanwhile." 

"In  a  scrape!"  said  he.  with  a  long- 
drawn  sigh,  intended  to  heat  the  wholf 
Minerva  press  in  its  romantic  cadence. 

"•  Well,  but  get  on  a  hit."  Baid  I.  rather 
impatiently;  "who  is  the  fellow  you've 
got  the  row  with  ?  Not  one  of  ours.  I 
trust  ?  " 

"Ah,  my  dear  Hal,"  said  lie,  in  the 
same  melting  tone  as  before,  "how  your 
imagination  does  run  upon  rows,  and 
broils,  and  duelling  rencontres"  (he.  the 
speaker,  be  it  known  to  the  reader,  was  the 
fire-eater  of  the  regiment),  "as  if  life  had 
nothing  better  to  offer  than  the  excitement 
of  a  challenge,  or  the  mock  heroism  of  a 
meeting." 

As   he   made   a  dead  pause   here,  after 


86 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


which  he  showed  no  disposition  to  con- 
tinue, I  merely  added, — 

'•  Well,  at  this  rate  of  proceeding,  we 
shall  get  at  the  matter  in  hand  on  our  way 
out  to  Corfu,  for  I  hear  we  arc  the  next 
regiment  for  the  Mediterranean." 

The  observation  seemed  to  have  some 
effect  in  rousing  him  from  his  lethargy,  and 
he  added, — 

"  If  you  only  knew  the  nature  of  the  at- 
tachment, and  how  completely  all  my 
future  hopes  are  concerned  upon  the  issue 


"Ho  !"  said  I,  "so  it's  a  money  affair, 
is  it  ?  and  is  it  old  Watson  lias  issued  the 
writ  ?     I'll  bet  a  hundred  on  it." 

••  Well,  upon  my  soul,  Lorrequer,"  said 
he,  jumping  from  his  chair,  and  speaking 
with  more  energy  than  he  had  before  evinc- 
ed, ''you  are,  without  exception,  the  most 
worldly-minded,  cold-blooded  fellow  I  ever 
met.  What  have  I  said  that  could  have  led 
you  to  suppose  I  had  either  a  duel  or  a  law- 
suit upon  my  hands  this  morning  ?  Learn, 
once  and  for  all,  man,  that  I  am  in  love — 
desperately  and  over  head  and  ears  in  love." 

"  Epoi?"  said  I,  coolly. 

"And  intend  to  marry  immediately." 

"  Oh,  very  well,"  said  I ;  "the  fighting 
and  debt  will  come  later,  that's  all.  But 
to  return — now  for  the  lady." 

"Come,  you  must  make  a  guess." 

"Why,  then,  I  really  must  confess  my 
utter  inability  ;  for  your  attentions  have 
been  so  generally  and  impartially  distribut- 
ed since  our  arrival  here,  that  it  may  be 
any  fair  one,  from  your  venerable  partner 
at  whist  last  evening,  to  Mrs.  Henderson, 
the  pastrycook,  inclusive,  for  whose  mac- 
aroni and  cherry-brandy  your  feelings  have 
been  as  warm  as  they  are  constant." 

"  Come,  no  more  quizzing,  Hal.  You 
surely  must  have  remarked  that  lovely  girl 
I  waltzed  with  at  Power's  ball  on  Tuesday 
last." 

"  Lovely  girl  !  Why,  in  all  her  serious- 
ness, you  don't  mean  the  small  woman 
with  the  tow  wig  ?" 

'•  No,  I  do  not  mean  any  such  thing — but 
a  beautiful  creature,  with  the  brightest 
locks  in  Christendom — the  very  light- 
brown  waving  ringlets  Domenichino  loved 
to  paint,  and  a  foot — did  vou  see  her 
foot  ?  " 

"No;  that  was  rather  difficult,  for  she 
kept  continually  bobbing  up  and  down, 
like  a  boy's  cork-float  in  a  fishpond." 

"Stop   1  here.     I  shall  not  permit   this 

any  longer — I   came  not  here  to  listen  to 

v 

"But,  Curzon,  my  boy,  you're  not 
angry  ?  " 


"Yes,  sir   1  am  angry." 

"  Why.  surely,  you  have  not  been  seri- 
ous all  this  time  ?  " 

"And  why  not,  pray  ?" 

"  Oh  !  I  don't  exactly  know — that  is, 
faith,  I  scarcely  thought  you  were  in  ear- 
nest, for  if  1  did  of  course  I  should  honest- 
ly have  confessed  to  you  that  the  lady  in 
question  struck  me  as  one  of  the  handsom- 
est persons  I  ever  met." 

"  You  think  so  really,  Hal  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  do,  and  the  opinion  is  not 
mine  alone  ;  she  is,  in  fact,  universally 
admired." 

"  Come,  Harry,  excuse  my  bad  temper. 
I  ought  to  have  known  you  better — give 
me  your  hand,  old  boy,  and  wish  me  joy, 
for  with  your  aiding  and  abetting  she  is 
mine  to-morrow  morning." 

I  wrung  his  hand  heartily — congratulat- 
ing myself,  meanwhile,  how  happily  I 
had  got  out  of  my  scrape  ;  as  I  now,  for 
the  first  time,  perceived  that  Curzon  was 
actually  in  earnest. 

"  So  you  will  stand  by  me,  Hal  ?  "  said 
he. 

"Of  course.  Only  show  me  how,  and 
I'm  perfectly  at  your  service.  Anything 
from  riding  postilion  on  the  leaders  to 
officiating  as  bridesmaid,  and  I  am  your 
man.  And  if  you  are  in  want  of  such  a 
functionary  I  shall  stand  in  loco  parentis 
to  the  lady,  and  give  her  away  with  as 
much  onction  and  tenderness  as  though  I 
had  as  many  marriageable  daughters  as 
King  Priam  himself.  It  is  with  me,  in 
marriage  as  in  duelling — I'll  be  anything 
rather  than  a  principal  ;  and  I  have  long 
since  disapproved  of  either  method  as  a 
means  of  'obtaining  satisfaction.'" 

' '  Ah,  Harry,  I  shall  not  be  discouraged 
by  your  sneers.  You've  been  rather  un- 
lucky, I'm  aware ;  but  now  to  return. 
Your  office,  on  this  occasion,  is  an  exceed- 
ingly simple  one,  and  yet  that  which  I 
could  only  confide  to  one  as  much  my 
friend  as  yourself.  You  must  carry  my 
dearest  Louisa  off." 

'"  Carry  her  off  !  Where  ? — when  ? — 
how  ?  " 

"All  that  I  have  already  arranged,  as 
you  shall  hear." 

"  Yes.  But  first  of  all  please  to  explain 
why,  if  going  to  run  away  with  the  lady, 
you  don't  accompany  her  yourself." 

"  Ah  !  I  knew  you  would  say  that  :  1 
could  have  laid  a  wager  you'd  ask  that 
question,  for  it  is  just  that  very  explan- 
ation will  show  all  the  native  delicacy  and 
feminine  propriety  of  my  darling  Loo; 
and  first,  I  must  tell  you,  that  old  Sir  Al- 
fred  Jonson,   her   father,  has    some   con- 


// MIR  Y  L  ORREQ  UER. 


8? 


founded  prejudice  against  the  army,  and 
never  would  consent  to  her  marriage  with 
a  red-coat;  so  that,  his  consent  being  out 
of  the  question,  our  only  resource  IS  an 
elopement.  Louisa  consents  to  this,  but 
only  upon  one  condition,  and  this  she  in- 
sists upon  so  firmly — 1  had  almost  said 
obstinately — that,  notwithstanding  all  my 
arguments  and  representations,  and  even 
en i  real  ies against  it,  she  remains  inflexible; 
so  that  I  have  at  length  yielded,  and  she 
is  to  have  her  own  way." 

"Well,  and  what  is  the  condition  she 
lays  such  stress  upon  ?  " 

"  Simply  this,  that  we  are  never  to  trav- 
el a  mile  together  until  I  obtain  my  right 
to  do  so  by  making  her  my  wife.  She  has 
got  some  trumpery  notions  in  her  head 
that  any  slight  transgression  over  the 
hounds  of  delicacy  made  by  women  before 
marriage  is  ever  after  remembered  by  the 
husband  to  their  disadvantage,  and  she  is 
therefore  resolved  not  to  sacrifice  her  prin- 
ciple even  at  such  a  crisis  as  the  present." 

"All  very  proper,  1  have  no  doubt ;  but 
still,  pray  explain  what  I  confess  appears 
somewhat  strange  to  me  at  present.  How 
does  so  very  delicately-minded  a  person 
reconcile  herself  to  traveling  with  a  per- 
fect stranger  under  such  circumstances  ?  " 

"  That  I  can  explain  perfectly  to  you. 
You  must  know  that  when  my  darling 
Loo  consented  to  take  this  step,  which  1 
induced  her  to  do  with  the  greatest  diffi- 
culty, she  made  the  proviso  1  have  just 
mentioned  ;  I  at  once  showed  her  that  1 
had  no  maiden  aunt  or  married  sister  to 
confide  her  to  at  such  a  moment,  and  what 
was  to  be  done  ?  She  immediately  re- 
plied, 'Have  you  no  elderly  brother  officer, 
whose  years  and  discretion  will  put  the 
transaction  in  such  a  light  as  to  silence 
the  slanderous  tongues  of  the  world,  for 
with  such  a  man  I  am  quite  ready  and  wil- 
ling to  trust  myself.'  You  see  I  was  hard 
pushed  there.  What  could  1  do  ? — whom 
could  I  select  !  Old  Hayes,  the  paymaster, 
is  always  tipsy  ;  Jones  is  five-and-forty — 
but  still,  if  he  found  out  there  was  thirty 
thousand  pounds  in  the  case,  egad  !  I'm 
not  so  sure  I'd  have  found  my  betrothed 
at  the  end  of  the  stage.  You  were  my 
only  hope  :  I  knew  I  could  rely  upon  you. 
You  would  carry  on  the  whole  affair  with 
tact  and  discretion  :  and  as  to  age,  your 
stage  experience  would  enable  you,  with  a 
little  assistance  from  costume,  to  pass 
muster  ;  besides  that,  I  have  always  repre- 
sented you  as  the  very  Methuselah  of  the 
corps  ;  and  in  the  gray  dawn  of  an  autum- 
nal morning — with  maiden  bashfulness 
assisting — the  scrutiny  is  not  likely  to  be 


a  close  one.  So  now,  your  consent  is  alone 
wanting  to  complete  the  arrangements 
which,  before  tin-  time  to-morrow,  shall 
have  made  me  t  lie  happiesl  of  morl 

Having  expressed,  in  fitting  terms,  my 
full  sense  of  obligal ion  for  the  delicate  flat- 
tery wit  h  winch  he  pictured  me  as  "  <  >id 
Lorrequer"  to  the  lady,  I  begged  a  more 
detailed  account  of  his  plan,  which  I  shall 
shorten  for  my  reader's  sake,  by  the  fol- 
lowing brief  expose. 

A  post-chaise  and  four  was  to  be  in  wait- 
ing at  live  o'clock  in  t he  morning  to  con- 
vey me  to  Sir  Alfred  Jonson's  r< 
aboul  twelve  miles  distant.  There  1 
to  be  met  by  a  lady  at  the  gate-lodge,  who 
was  subsequently  to  accompany  me  to  a 
small  village  on  the  Nore,  where  an  old 
college  friend  of  Curzon's  happened  to  re- 
side as  parson,  and  by  whom  the  treaty  was 
to  be  concluded. 

This  was  all  simple  and  clear  enough — 
the  only  condition  necessary  to  insure  suc- 
cess being  punctuality,  particularly  on  the 
lady's  part.  As  to  mine.  I  readily  promised 
my  best  aid  and  warmest  efforts  in  my 
friend's  behalf. 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  more,"'  said 
Curzon.  "  Louisa's  younger  brother  is  a 
devilish  hot-headed,  wild  sort  n\'  a  fellow  ; 
and  it  would  be  as  well,  just  for  precau- 
tion's sake,  to  have  your  pistols  along  with 
you,  if,  by  any  chance,  lie  should  make  out 
what  was  going  forward — not  but  that  you 
know  if  anything  serious  was  to  take 
place,  I  should  be  the  person  to  take  all 
that  upon  my  hands." 

"Oh!  of  course — 1  understand,"  said  I. 
Meanwhile  I  could  not  help  running  over 
in  my  mind  the  pleasant  possibilities  such 
an  adventure  presented,  heartily  wishing 
that  Curzon  had  been  content  to  marry 
banns,  or  any  other  of  the  legitimate  modes 
in  use.  without  risking  his  friend's  bones. 
The  other  pros  and  cons  of  the  matter,  with 
full  and  accurate  direction-  a-  to  the  road 
to  be  taken  on  obtaining  possession  of  the 
lady,  being  all  arranged,  we  parted,  I  to 
settle  my  costume  and  appearance  for  my 
first  performance  in  an  old  man's  part,  and 
Curzon  to  obtain  a  short  leave  for  a  few 
days  from  the  commanding  officer  of  the 
regiment. 

When  we  again  met,  Avhich  was  at  the 
mess-talile.  it  was  not  without  evidence  on 
either  side  of  that  peculiar  consciousness 
which  persons  feel  who  have,  or  think  they 
have,  some  secret  in  common,  which  the 
world  wots  not  of.  Curzon's  unusually 
quick  and  excited  manner  would  at  once 
have  struck  any  close  observer  as  indicat- 
ing the  eve  of  some  important  step,  no  less 


tfH 


cha  n  l  i:s  l  e  i  ■  i:irs  works. 


than  continual  allusions  to  whatever  was 
going  on,  by  sly  and  equivocal  jokes  and 
ambiguous  jests.  Happily,  however,  on 
i  lie  present  occasion,  the  party  were  other- 
occupied  I  1 1 . 1 1 1  watching  him — being 
most  profoundly  and  learnedly  enga] 
discussing  medicine  and  matters  mi 
with  all  the  acute  and  accurate  knowledge 
which  chara<  tcrizessuch  discussions  among 
the  uon-medical  public. 

The  presenl  conversation  originated  from 
some  mention  our  senior  surgeon,  Fitz- 
gerald, had  just  made  of  a  consultation 
which  lie  was  invited  to  attend  on  the  next 
morning,  at  the  distance  of  twenty  miles, 
and  which  necessitated  him  to  start  at  a 
most  uncomfortably  early  hour.  While  ho 
continued  to  deplore  1  he  hard  fate  of  such 
men  as  himself,  so  eagerly  sought  after  by 
the  world,  that  their  own  hours  were  eter- 
nally broken  in  upon  by  external  claims, 
the  juniors  were  not  sparing  of  their  mirth 
on  the  occasion,  at  the  expense  of  the 
worthy  doctor,  who,  in  plain  truth,  had 
never  been  disturbed  by  a  request  like  the 
present  within  any  one's  memory.  Some 
asserted  that  the  whole  thing  was  a  puff, 
got  up  by  Fitz  himself,  who  was  only  going 
to  have  a  day's  partridge-shooting  ;  others 
hinting  that  it  was  a  blind  to  escape  the 
vigilance  of  Mrs.  Fitzgerald — a  well-known 
virago  in  the  regiment — while  Fitz  en- 
joyed himself;  and  a  third  party,  pretend- 
ing to  sympathize  with  the  doctor,  sug- 
gested that  a  hundred  pounds  would  be 
the  least  he  could  possibly  be  offered  for 
such  services  as  his  on  so  grave  an  occasion. 

"No,  no,  only  fifty,"  said  Fitz,  gravely. 

"Fifty  !  Why,  you  tremendous  old 
humbug,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you'll 
make  fifty  pounds  before  we  are  out  of  our 
beds  in  the  morning  ?"  cried  one. 

"I'll  take  your  bet  on  it,"  said  the  doc- 
tor, who  had  in  this  instance  reason  to 
suppose  his  fee  would  be  a  large  one. 

During  this  discussion,  the  claret  had 
been  pushed  round  rather  freely;  and  fully 
bent  as  I  was  upon  the  adventure  before 
me,  I  had  taken  my  share  of  it  as  a  prepa- 
ration. I  thought  of  the  amazing  prize  I 
was  about  to  be  instrumental  in  securing 
for  my  friend — for  the  lady  had  really 
thirty  thousand  pounds — and  I  could  not 
conceal  my  triumph  at  such  a  prospect  of 
success  in  comparison  with  the  meaner  ob- 
ject of  ambition.  They  all  seemed  to  envy 
poor  Fitzgerald.  I  struggled  with  my  se- 
cret for  some  time,  hut  my  pride  and  the 
claret  together  got  the  better  of  me,  and  I 
called  out,  "  Fifty  pounds  on  it,  then,  that 
before  ten  to-morrow  morning,  I'll  make 
a  better  hit  of  it  than  you.  and  the  mess 


shall   decide  between  us  afterwards  as  to 
the  winner." 

"  And    if  you  will,"  said  1,  seeing  some 
reluctance  on  Fitz's  part  to  take  t  he  \va 
and   getting  emboldened    in  consequence, 
"  let  the  judgment  be  pronounced  over  a 
couple  of  dozen  of  champagne,  paid  by  the 

lose!-."' 

This  was  a  coup  d'etat  on  my  pari,  for  I 
knew  at  once  there  were  so  many  parties 
to  benefit  by  the  bet,  terminate  which  way 
it  might,  there  could  be  no  possibility  of 
evading  it.  .My  device  succeeded,  and 
poor  Fitzgerald,  fairly  badgered  into  a 
wager,  the  terms  of  which  he  could  not  in 
the  least  comprehend,  was  obliged  to  sign 
the  conditions  inserted  in  the  adjutant's 
note-book,  his  greatest  hope  in  so  doing 
being  in  the  quantity  of  wine  he  had  sen 
me  drink  during  the  evening  As,  for  my- 
self, the  bet  was  no  sooner  made  than  I 
began  to  think  upon  the  very  little  chance 
I  had  of  winning  it;  for  even  supposing 
my  success  perfect  in  the  department  al- 
lotted to  me,  it  might  with  great  reason  be 
doubted  what  peculiar  benefit  I  myself  de- 
rived as  a  counterbalance  to  the  fee  of  the 
doctor.  For  this,  my  only  trust  lay  in  the 
justice  of  a  decision  which  I  conjectured 
would  lean  more  towards  the  goodness  of  a 
practical  joke  than  the  equity  of  the  trans- 
action. The  party  at  mess  soon  after 
separated,  and  I  wished  my  friend  good 
night  for  the  last  time  before  meeting  him 
as  a  bridegroom. 

I  arranged  everything  in  order  for  my 
start.  •  My  pistol-case  I  placed  conspicu- 
ously before  me,  to  avoid  being  forgotten 
in  the  baste  of  departure  ;  and,  having  or- 
dered my  servant  to  sit  up  all  night  in  the 
guard-room  until  he  heard  the  carriage  at 
"the  barrack-gate,  threw  myself  on  my  bed, 
but  not  to  sleep.  The  adventure  I  was 
about  to  engage  in  suggested  to  my  mind  a 
thousand  associations,  into  which  many  of 
the  scenes  I  have  already  narrated  entered. 
I  thought  how  frequently  I  had  myself 
been  on  the  verge  of  that  state  which  Cur- 
zon  was  about  to  try,  and  how  it  always 
happened  that  when  nearest  to  success 
failure  had  intervened.  From  my  very 
schoolboy  days,  my  love  adventures  had 
the  same  unfortunate  abruptness  in  their 
issue  ;  and  there  seemed  to  be  something 
very  like  a  fatality  in  the  invariable  un- 
success  of  my  efforts  at  marriage.  I 
feared,  too,  that  my  friend  Curzon  had 
placed  himself  in  very  unfortunate  hands, 
if  augury  were  to  be  relied  upon.  "  Some- 
thing will  surely  happen,"  thought  I, 
"from  my  confounded  ill  luck,  and  all  will 
be    blown    up."     Wearied     at    last    with 


HARRY  LORREQUBR. 


thinking,  I  fell  into  a  sound  sleep  Cor 
about  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  al  I  he  end 
of  which  I  was  awoke  by  my  servant  in- 
forming   me   thai  a   chaise-and-four    was 

drawn  up  at  the  end  of  the  barrick  lane. 

"Whv,  surely  they  are  too  early, 
Stubbes?     [t's  only  four  o'clock." 

"  Yes.  sir  ;  but  i  hey  say  i  hat   t  he  road 

for  eight  miles  is  very  bad,  and  they  must, 
go  it  almost  at  a  walk." 

"That  is  certainly  pleasant,"  thought  I. 
"but  I'm  in  for  it.  now,  so  can't  help 
it." 

In  a  few  minutes  I  was  up  and  dn 
and  so  perfectly  transformed  by  the  addi- 
tion of  a  brown  scratch-wig  and  large  green 
spectacles,  and  a  deep-flapped  waistcoat, 
that  my  servant,  on  re-entering  my  room, 
could  not  recognize  me.  1  followed  him 
now  across  the  barrack-yard,  as  with  my 
pistol-case  under  one  arm,  and  a  lantern 
in  his  hand,  he  proceeded  to  the  barrack- 
gate. 

As  I  passed  beneath  the  adjutant's  win- 
dow, [  saw  a  light, — the  sash  was  quickly 
thrown  open,  and  Curzon  appeared. 

"Is  that  yon.  Harry  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  when  do  you  start?" 

"In  about  two  hours.  I've  only  eight 
miles  to  go  ;  you  have  upwards  of  twelve, 
and  no  time  to  lose.  Success  attend  you, 
my  boy  !  we'll  meet  soon." 

'•Here's  the  carriage,  sir:  this  •way.*' 

"  Well,  my  lads,  you  know  the  road,  I 
suppose  ?  " 

"Every  inch  of  it,  your  honor's  glory  : 
we're  always  coming  in  for  doctors  and 
'pothecaries  ;  they're  never  a  week  without 
them." 

I  was  soon  seated,  the  door  clapped  to, 
and  the  words  "all  right"  given,  and 
away  we  went. 

Little  as  I  had  slept  during  the  night, 
my  mind  was  too  much  occupied  with  the 
adventure  I  was  engaged  in  to  permit  any 
thoughts  of  sleep  now,  so  that  I  had  abun- 
dant opportunity  afforded  me  of  pondering 
over  all  the  bearings  of  the  case  with  much 
more  of  deliberation  and  caution  than  I 
had  yet  bestowed  upon  it.  One  thing  was 
certain,  whether  success  did  or  did  not  at- 
tend our  undertaking,  the  risk  was  mine 
and  mine  only  ;  and  if  by  any  accident  the 
affair  should  be  already  known  to  the 
family,  I  stood  a  very  fair  chance  of  being 
shot  by  one  of  the  sons,  or  stoned  to  death 
by  the  tenantry  ;  while  my  excellent  friend 
Curzon  should  be  eating  his  breakfast  with 
his  reverend  friend,  and  only  interrupting 
himself  in  his  fourth  muffin  to  wonder 
'•what  could  keep  them  ;"  and  besides,  for 
minor  miseries  will,  like  the  blue  devils  in 


Don    Giovanni,    thrust    np    their    In 
among   their    better-grown   brethren,   my 
fifty-pound    bet    looked    rather    blue ;  for 

even  under  the  mosl  favorable  lighl  consid- 
ered, however  Curzon  might  I 
gainer,  it  might  well  be  doubted  how  fi     I 
had    succeeded    better    than    the  doctor, 
when  producing  In-  tee  in  evidence.   Well, 
well.  I'm  in  for  it  now  ;  but  ii   certain  I; 
strange   all    these    very  awkward  circum- 
stances never  Btrucls  me  so  forcibly  before ; 
and  after  all,  it  was  not  quite  fair  of  Cur- 
zon to  put  any  man  forward  in  such  a  trans- 
act ion  :  the  more  nch  a  representa- 
tion   might    be  made  of   it  at   the    II 
<  ruards   as  to  stop  a   man's   promotion,  or 
seriously  affect  his  prospects  for  life;  and 
I  at  last  began   to  convince  myself   that 
many  a  man  so  placed  would  carry  the  lady 
off  himself,  and   leave  the  adjutant 
tie  the  affair   with   the   family.      For  two 
mortal  hours  did  I  conjure  up  every  p< 
ble    disagreeable    contingency   that   might 
arise.     My    being  mulct   of  my   fifty,  and 
laughed  at  by  the  mess,  seemed  inevitable, 
even  were  I  fortunate  enough  to  escapes 
duel  with  the  fire-eating  brother.     .Mean- 
while a  thick  misty  rain  continued  to  fall, 
adding  so   much   to    the  darkness  of   the 
early  hour,  that  I  could   see  little  of  the 
country   about  me,  and   knew  nothing 
where  I  was. 

Troubles  are  like  laudanum,  a  small  dose 
only  excites,  a  strong  one  set  you  to  sleep 
— not  a  very  comfortable  sleep  mayhap — 
— but  still  it  is  sleep,  and  often  very  sound 
sleep  ;  so  it  now  happened  with  me.  I 
had  pondered  over,  weighed,  and  consider- 
ed all  the  pros,  roi/s,  turnings,  and  wind- 
ings of  this  awkward  predicament,  till  I 
had  fairly  convinced  myself  thai  I  was  on 
the  high  road  to  a  confounded  scrape  :  and 
then,  having  established  that  fact  to  my 
entire  satisfaction,  I  fell  comfortably  back 
in  the  chaise,  and  sank  into  a  most  pro- 
found slumber. 

If  to  any  of  my  readers  1  may  appear 
hear  to  have  taken  a  very  despondent  view 
of  this  whole  affair,  let  him  only  call  to 
mind  my  invariable  ill  luck  in  such  mat- 
ters, and  how  always  ir  had  been  my  lot 
to  see  myself  on  the  fair  road  to  sue 
only  up  to  that  point  at  which  it  is  cer- 
tain :  besides But  why  explain  ?  These 

are  my  "  Confessions."  I  may  not  alter 
what  are  matters  of  fact,  and  my  reader 
must  only  take  me  with  all  the  impel  - 
tions  of  wrong  motives  and  headlong  im- 
pulses upon  my  head,  or  abandon  me  at 
once. 

Meanwhile  the  chaise  rolled  along,  and 
the  road  being  better  and  the  pace  faster, 


90 


CHARLES  LEVERS    WORKS. 


my  sleep  became  more  easy  ;  thus,  about 
an  hour  and  a  half  after  I  had  fallen  asleep 
passed  rapidly  over,  when  the  sharp  turn- 
ing of  an  angle  disturbed  me  from  my 
leaning  position,  and  1  awoke.  I  started 
up  and  rubbed  my  eyes  ;  several  seconds 
elapsed  before  I  could  think  where  I  was 
or  whither  going.  Consciousness  at  last 
came,  and  I  perceived  that  we  were  driv- 
ing up  a  thickly-planted  avenue.  Why, 
confound  it,  they  can't  have  mistaken  it, 
thought  I,  or  are  we  really  going  up  to  the 
house,  instead  of  waiting  at  the  lodge  ?  I 
at  once  lowered  the  sash,  and  stretching 
out  my  head,  cried  out,  "  Do  you  know 
what  ye  are  about,  lads  ;  is  this  all  right  ?" 
but  unfortunately,  amid  the  rattling  of  the 
gravel  and  the  clatter  of  the  horses,  my 
words  were  unheard  ;  and  thinking  I  was 
addressing  a  request  to  go  faster,  the  vil- 
lains cracked  their  whips,  and  breaking  in- 
to a  full  gallop,  before  five  minutes  flew 
over,  they  drew  up  with  a  jerk  at  the  foot 
of  a  long  portico  to  a  large  and  spacious 
cut-stone  mansion.  AVhen  I  rallied  from 
the  sudden  check,  which  had  nearly  thrown 
me  through  the  window,  I  gave  myself  up 
for  lost ;  here  I  was,  vis-a-vis  the  very  hall- 
door  of  the  man  whose  daughter  I  was 
about  to  elope  with ;  whether  so  placed  by 
the  awkwardness  and  blundering  of  the 
wretches  who  drove  me,  or  delivered  up  by 
their  treachery,  it  mattered  not,  my  fate 
seemed  certain  ;  before  I  had  time  to  de- 
termine upon  any  line  of  acting  in  this 
confounded  dilemma,  the  door  was  jerked 
open  by  a  servant  in  sombre  livery,  who, 
protruding  his  head  and  shoulders  into  the 
chaise,  looked  at  me  steadily  for  a  moment, 
and  said,  "  Ah  !  then,  doctor,  darlin',  but 
ye're  welcome."  With  the  speed  with 
which  sometimes  the  bar  of  an  air  long 
since  heard,  or  the  passing  glance  of  an  old 
familiar  face  can  call  up  the  memory  of 
our  very  earliest  childhood,  bright  and 
vivid  before  us,  did  that  one  single  phrase 
explain  the  entire  mystery  of  my  present 
position,  and  I  saw  in  one  rapid  glance  that 
I  had  got  into  the  chaise  intended  for  Dr. 
Fitzgerald,  and  was  absolutely,  at  that 
moment,  before  the  hall-door  of  the  patient. 
My  first  impulse  was  an  honest  one  to  avow 
the  mistake  and  retrace  my  steps,  taking 
my  chance  to  settle  with  Curzon,  whose 
matrimonial  scheme  I  foresaw  was  doomed 
to  the  untimely  fate  of  all  those  I  had  ever 
been  concerned  in.  My  next  thought — 
how  seldom  is  the  adage  true  which  says 
"  that  second  thoughts  are  best " — was  up- 
on my  luckless  wager  :  for  even  supposing 
that  Fitzgerald  should  follow  me  in  the 
other  chaise,  yet,  as  I  had  the  start  of  him, 


if  I  could  only  pass  muster  for  half  an  hour, 
I  might  secure  the  fee,  and  evacuate  the 
territory;  besides  that,  there  was  a  great 
chance  of  Fritz's  having  gone  on  my 
errand,  while!  was  journeying  onhis,  in 
which  ease  1  should  be  sale  from  interrup- 
tion. Meanwhile,  Heaven  only  could  tell 
what  his  interference  in  poor  Curzon's 
business  might  not  involve.  Theseserious 
reflections  took  about  ten  seconds  to  pass 
through  my  mind,  as  the  grave-looking  old 
servant  proceeded  to  encumber  himself 
with  my  cloak  and  my  pistol-case,  remark- 
ing as  he  lifted  the  latter,  "And  may  the 
Lord  grant  ye  won't  want  the  instruments 
this  time,  doctor,  for  they  say  he  is  better 
this  morning."  Heartily  wishing  amen  to 
the  benevolent  prayer  of  the  honest  domes- 
tic, for  more  reasons  than  one,  I  descend- 
ed leisurely,  as  I  conjectured  a  doctor 
ought  to  do,  from  the  chaise,  and  with  a 
solemn  pace  and  grave  demeanor  followed 
him  into  the  house. 

In  the  small  parlor  to  which  I  was  ush- 
ered, sat  two  gentlemen  somewhat  advanc- 
ed in  years,  who  I  rightly  supposed  were 
my  medical  confreres-*  One  of  these  was 
a  tall,  pale,  ascetic-looking  man,  with  gray 
hair  and  retreating  forehead, slow  in  speech, 
and  lugubrious  in  demeanor.  The  other, 
his  antithesis,  Avas  a  short,  rosy-cheeked, 
apoplectic-looking  subject,  with  a  laugh 
like  a  suffocating  wheeze,  and  a  paunch 
like  an  alderman  ;  his  epiick,  restless  eye 
and  full  nether  lip  denoting  more  of  the 
don  vivant  than  the  abstemious  disciple  of 
^Esculapius.  A  moment's  glance  satisfied 
me,  that  if  I  had  only  these  to  deal  with, 
I  was  safe,  for  I  saw  that  they  were  of  that 
stamp  of  country  practitioner,  half-physi- 
cian, half-apothecary,  who  rarely  come  in 
contact  with  the  higher  orders  of  their  art, 
and  then  only  to  be  dictated  to,  obey,  and 
grumble. 

"  Doctor,  may  I  beg  to  intrude  myself, 
Mr.  Phipps,  on  your  notice  ?  Dr.  Phipps 
or  Mr.,  it's  all  one  ;  but  I  have  only  a 
license  in  pharmacy,  though  they  call  me 
doctor.  Surgeon  Riley,  sir,  a  very  re- 
spectable practitioner,"  said  he,  waving 
his  hand  toward  his  rubicund  confrere. 

I  at  once  expressed  the  great  happiness 
it  afforded  me  to  meet  such  highly  inform- 
ed and  justly  celebrated  gentlemen  ;  and 
fearing  every  moment  the  arrival  of  the 
real  Simon  Pure  should  cover  me  with 
shame  and  disgrace,  begged  they  would 
afford  me,  as  soon  as  possible,  some  his- 
tory of  the  case  we  were  convened  for 
They  accordingly  proceeded  to  expound, 
in  a  species  of  duet,  some  curious  particu- 
lars of  an  old  srentleman  who  had  the  evil 


HARRY   LORREQUER. 


91 


fortune  to  have  them  for  his  doctors,  and 
who  labored  under  some  swelling  of  the 
neck,  which  they  differed  as  to  the  treat- 
ment of,  and  in  consequence  of  which  the 
aid  of  a  third  party  (myself,  Heaven  bless 
the  mark  !)  was  requested. 

As  I  could  by  no  means  divest  myself  of 
the  fear  of  Fitz's  arrival.  I  pleaded  the 
multiplicity  of  my  professional  engagments 
as  a  reason  for  at  once  seeing  i  lie  patient ; 
upon  which  1  was  conducted  upstairs  by 
my  two  brethren,  and  introduced  to  a  half- 
lighted  chamber.  In  a  large  easy-chair 
sat  a  florid-looking-  old  man,  with  a  face 
in  which  pain  and  habitual  ill-temper  had 
combined  to  absorb  every  expression. 

"This  is  the  doctor  of  the  regiment, 
sir,  that  you  desired  to  see,"  said  my  tall 
coadjutor. 

"Oh  !  then,  very  well  ;  good  morning, 
sir.  I  suppose  you  will  find  out  some- 
thing new  the  matter,  for  them  two  there 
have  been  doing  so  every  day  this  two 
months." 

"1  trust,  sir,  I  replied  stiffly,  "that 
with  the  assistance  of  my  learned  friends 
much  may  be  done  for  you.  Ha  !  hem  ! 
so  this  is  the  malady.  Turn  your  head  a 
little  to  that  side."  Here  an  awful  groan 
escaped  the  sick  man,  for  I,  it  appears, 
had  made  considerable  impression  upon 
rather  a  delicate  part,  not  unintentionally, 
I  must  confess  ;  for  as  I  remembered 
Hoyle's  maxim  at  whist,  "  when  in  doubt 
play  a  trump,"  so  I  thought  it  might  be 
true  in  physic,  when  posed  by  a  difficulty, 
to  do  a  bold  thing  also.  "  Does  that  hurt 
you,  sir  ?"  said  I,  in  a  soothing  and  affec- 
tionate tone  of  voice. 

"  Like  the  devil,"  growled  the  patient. 

"  And  here  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Oh  !  oil  !  I  can't  bear  it  any  longer." 

"Oh  !  I  perceive,"  said  I,  "the  thing  is 
just  as  I  expected."  Here  I  raised  my  eye- 
brows, and  looked  indescribably  wise  at 
my  confreres. 

"No  aneurism. doctor,"  said  the  tall  one. 

"  Certainly  not." 

"Maybe,"  said  the  short  one — ''maybe 
it's  a  stay-at-home-with-us  tumor  after 
all," — so  at  least  he  appeared  to  pronounce 
a  confounded  technical,  which  I  after- 
wards learned  Avas  "  steatomatous."  Con- 
ceiving that  my  rosy-friend  was  disposed 
to  jeer  at  me,  I  gave  him  a  terrific  frown 
and  resumed,  "  This  must  not  be  touched." 

"  So  you  won't  operate  upon  it,"  said 
the  patient. 

"I  would  not  take  a  thousand  pounds 
to  do  so,"  I  replied.  "  Now,  if  you  please, 
gentlemen,"  said  I  making  a  step  towards 
the  door,  as  if  to  withdraw  for  consulta- 


tion  :    upon  which   they  accompanied  me 
downstair-  to  the  breakfast-room.     As  it 
was   the  only  time    in    my  life    I    had  per- 
formed   in    this    character,    I    had    3ome 
doubt-  as  to  i  he  propriety  of  indulgi 
very  hearty  breakfaal   appetite,  not   know- 
it  were   unprofessional   to  eai  ;  but 
from  this  doubt  my  learned  friend 
ily    relieved    me.    by    the    entire    devotion 
which    they    bestowed     for   about    twenty 
minutes    upon    ham.  rolls,   eggs,   and   cut- 
lets, barely    interrupting   the8e    important 
occupations  by  sly  allusions  to  the  o! 
tleman's  malady,   and  his   chance  of   re- 
covery. 

"  Well,  doctor,"  said  the  pale  one,  as  at 
length  he  rested  from  his  labors,  "  what 
are  we  to  do  ?  " 

"Ay,"  said  the  other,  "there's  the 
question." 

"Go  on,"  said  I,  "go  on  as  before  ;  I 
can't  advise  you  better."  Now.  this  was  a 
deep  stroke  of  mine  ;  for  up  to  the  pres- 
ent moment  I  did  not  know  what  treat- 
ment they  were  practising  :  but  it  looked 
a  shrewd  thing  to  guess  it  and  it  certainly 
was  civil  to  approve  of  it. 

"  So  you  think  that  will  be  best  ?  " 

"I  am  certain  that  I  know  nothing  bet- 
ter," I  answered. 

"Well,  I'm  sure,  sir,  we  have  every 
reason  to  be  gratified  for  the  very  candid 
manner  in  which  you  have  treated  us. 
Sir,  I'm  your  most  obedient  servant,"  said 
the  fat  one. 

"  Gentlemen,  both  your  good  healths  and 
professional  success  also.  '  Here  I  swal- 
lowed a  glass  of  brandy,  thinking  all  the 
while  there  were  worse  things  than  the 
practice  of  physic. 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  going  ?  "  said  one, 
as  my  chaise  drew  up  at  the  door. 

"  Business  calls  me,"  said  I,  "and  I  can't 
help  it." 

"  Could  not  you  manage  to  see  our 
friend  here  again,  in  a  day  or  two  ?  "  said 
the  rosy  one. 

"I  fear  it  will  be  impossible,"  replied  I  ; 
besides,  I  have  a  notion  he  may  not  desire 
it." 

"  I  have  been  commissioned  to  hand  you 
this,"  said  the  tall  doctor,  with  a  half 
sigh,  as  he  put  a  cheque  into  my  hand. 

I  bowed  slightly,  and  stuffed  the  crum- 
pled paper  with  a  half-careless  air  into  my 
waistcoat  pocket,  and  wishing  them  both 
every  species  of  happiness  and  success, 
shook  hands  four  times  with  each,  and 
drove  off,  never  believing  myself  safe  till  I 
saw  the  gate-lodge  behind  me,  and  felt  my- 
self flying  on  the  road  to  Kilkenny  at 
about  twelve  miles  Irish  an  hour. 


92 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


CHAPTER  Will. 


THE  ELOPEMENT. 


It  was  past  two  o'clock  when  I  reached 
the  town.  On  entering  bhe  barrack-yard, 
I  perceived  a  large  group  of  officers  chat- 
ting together,  and  every  moment  breaking 
into  immoderate  fits  of  laughter.  1  went 
over,  and  immediately  learned  the  source 
of  their  mirth,  which  was  this.  No  sooner 
had  it  been  known  thai  Fitzgerald  was 
about  to  go  to  a  distance, on  a  professional 
call,  than  a  couple  of  young  officers  laid 
their  heads  together,  and  wrote  an  anony- 
mous note  to  .Mrs.  Fitz,  who  was  the  very 
dragon  of  jealousy,  informing  her  that  her 
husband  had  feigned  the  whole  history  of 
the  patient  and  consultation  as  an  excuse 
for  absenting  himself  on  an  excursion  of 
gallantry  ;  and  that  if  she  wished  to  satisfy 
herself  of  the  truth  of  the  statement  she 
had  only  to  follow  him  in  the  morning, 
ami  detect  his  entire  .scheme;  the  object 
of  these  amiable  friends  being  to  give  poor 
Mrs.  Fitz  a  twenty  miles'  jaunt,  and  con- 
front her  with  her  injured  husband  at  the 
end  of  it. 

Having  a  mind  actively  alive  to  suspi- 
cions of  this  nature,  the  worthy  woman 
made  all  her  arrangements  for  a  start,  and 
scarcely  was  the  chaise-and-four,  with  her 
husband,  out  of  the  town,  than  was  she 
on  the  track  of  it,  with  a  heart  bursting 
with  jealousy,  and  vowing  vengeance  to  the 
knife  against  all  concerned  in  this  scheme 
to  wrong  her. 

So  far  the  plan  of  her  persecutors  had 
perfectly  succeeded  ;  they  saw  her  depart, 
on  a  trip  of,  as  they  supposed,  twenty 
miles,  and  their  whole  notions  of  the  prac- 
tical joke  were  limited  to  the  eclaircisse- 
ment  that  must  ensue  at  the  end.  Little, 
however,  were  they  aware  how  much  more 
near  the  suspected  crime  was  the  position 
of  the  poor  doctor  to  turn  out ;  for  as,  by 
one  blunder,  I  had  taken  his  chaise,  so  he, 
without  any  inquiry  whatever,  had  got  in- 
to the  one  intended  for  me  ;  and  never 
awoke  from  a  most  refreshing  slumber  till 
shaken  by  the  shoulder  by  the  postilion, 
who  whispered  in  his  ear,  "Here  we  are, 
sir  ;  this  is  the  gate." 

"But  why  stop  at  the  gate  ?  Drive  up 
the  avenue,  my  boy." 

"  His  honor  told  me,  sir,  not  for  the 
world  to  go  farther  than  the  lodge  ;  nor  to 
make  as  much  noise  as  a  mouse." 
•  "  Ah  !  very  true,  lie  may  be  very  irri- 
table, poor  man  !  Well,  stop  here,  and  I'll 
get  out." 

Just   as   the   doctor   had    reached    the 


ground,    a    very   smart-looking    soubrette 

t  ripped  up,  and  said  to  him, — 

'•  Beg  pardon,  sir  :  but.  are  you  the  gen- 
i  leman  from  the  barrack,  sir  ? " 

u  Yes,  my  dear."  said  Fitz, with  a  know- 
ing look  at  the  pretty  face  of  the  damsel, 
•'  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  *' 

••  Why.  sir.  my  mistress  is  here  in  the 
shrubbery  :  but  she  is  so  nervous,  and  so 
frightened,  I  don't  know  she'll  go  through 
it  ?" 

••Ah!  she's  frightened,  poor  thing,  is 
she  ?  Oh  !  she  must  keep  up  her  spirits  ; 
while  there's  life  there's  hope." 

"Sir?" 

"I  say,  my  darling,  she  must  not  give 
way.  I'll  speak  to  her  a  little.  Is  not  lie 
rather  advanced  in  life  ?  " 

"Oh,  Lord  !  no,  sir.  Only  two-and- 
thirty,  my  mistress  tells  me." 

" Two-and-thirty  !  Why,  I  thought  he 
was  above  sixty." 

'•Above  sixty!  Law!  sir.  You  have 
a  bright  fancy.  This  is  the  gentleman, 
ma'am.  Now,  sir,  I'll  just  slip  aside  for  a 
moment,  and  let  you  talk  to  her." 

"I  am  grieved,  ma'am,  that  I  have  not 
the  happiness  to  make  your  acquaintance 
under  happier  circumstances." 

"  I  must  confess,  sir — though  I  am 
ashamed " 

"  Never  be  ashamed,  ma'am  ;  your  grief, 
although  I  trust  causeless,  does  you  in- 
finite honor.  Upon  my  soul,  she  is 
rather  pretty,"  said  the  doctor  to  himself 
here. 

"  Well,  sir  !  as  I  have  the  most  perfect 
confidence  in  you,  from  all  I  have  heard  of 
you,  I  trust  you  will  not  think  me  abrupt 
in  saying  that  any  longer  delay  here  is 
dangerous." 

"  Dangerous  !  Is  he  in  so  critical  a  state 
as  that,  then  ?  " 

"Critical  a  state,  sir!  Why,  what  do 
you  mean  ?  " 

"I  mean,  ma'am,  do  you  think,  then,  it 
must  he  done  to-day  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  do,  sir,  and  I  shall  never 
leave  the  spot  without  your  assuring  me  of 
it." 

"  Oh  !  in  that  case  make  your  mind 
easy.  I  have  the  instruments  in  the 
chaise." 

"The  instruments  in  the  chaise!  Real- 
ly, sir,  if  you  are  not  jesting — I  trust  you 
don't  think  this  is  a  fitting  time  for  such — 
I  entreat  of  you  to  speak  more  plainly  and 
intelligibly." 

"Jesting,  ma'am!  I'm  incapable  of 
jesting  at  such  a  moment." 

"Ma'am,  ma'am!  I  see  one  of  the 
rangers,   ma'am,  at  a  distance  ;  so  don't 


IL I K  R  I '  L  ORREQ  UER. 


93 


lose  a  moment,  but  get  into  the  chaise  at 
once." 

"  Well,  sir,  let  us  away  ;  for  I  have  now 
gone  too  far  to  retract." 

"Help  my  mistress  into  the  chaise,  sir. 
Lord  !  what  a  man  it  is." 

A  moment  mure  saw  the  poor  doctor 
seated  beside  the  young  lady,  while  the 
postilions  plied  whip  and  spur  with  their 
Lest  energy  :  and  the  road  flew  beneath 
them.  Meanwhile  the  delay  caused  by 
this  short  dialogue  enabled  Mrs.  Fitz's 
slower  conveyance  to  come  up  with  the 
pursuit,  and  her  chaise  had  just  turned 
the  angle  of  the  road  as  she  caught  a 
glimpse  of  a  muslin  dress  stepping  into 
the  carriage  with  her  husband. 

There  are  no  words  capable  of  conveying 
the  faintest  idea  of  the  feelings  that  aeri- 
tated  Mrs.  Fitz  at  this  moment.  The  ful- 
lest confirmation  to  her  worst  fears  was 
before  her  eyes — just  at  the  very  instant 
when  a  doubt  was  beginning  to  cross  over 
her  mind  that  it  might  have  been  merely 
a  hoax  that  was  practised  on  her,  and  that 
the  worthy  doctor  was  innocent  and 
blameless.  As  for  the  poor  doctor  him- 
self, there  seemed  little  chance  of  his 
being  enlightened  as  to  the  real  state  of 
matters  ;  for  from  the  moment  the  young 
lady  had  taken  her  place  in  the  chaise,  she 
had  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and 
sobbed  continually.  Meanwhile  he  con- 
cluded that  they  were  approaching  the 
house  by  some  back  entrance  to  avoid  noise 
and  confusion,  and  waited  with  due  pa- 
tience for  the  journey's  end. 

As,  however,  her  grief  continued  una- 
bated, Fitz  at  length  began  to  think  of 
the  many  little  consolatory  acts  he  had 
successfully  practised  in  his  professional 
career,  and  was  just  insinuating  some  very 
tender  speech  on  the  score  of  resignation, 
with  his  head  inclined  towards  the  weep- 
ing lady  beside  him,  when  the  chaise  of 
Mrs.  Fitz  came  up  alongside,  and  the 
postilions  having  yielded  to  the  call  to 
halt,  drew  suddenly  up,  displaying  to  the 
enraged  wife  the  tableau  we  have  men- 
tioned. 

"  So,  wretch  ! "  she  screamed  rather 
than  spoke,  "  I  have  detected  you  at  last." 

"  Lord  bless  me  !     Why,  it  is  my  wife." 

'"Yes.  villain!  your  injured,  much- 
wronged  wife  !  And  you,  madam,  may  I 
ask  what  have  you  to  say  for  thus  eloping 
with  a  married  man  ?" 

"  Shame  !  My  dear  Jemima,"  said  Fitz, 
"  how  can  you  possibly  permit  your  fool- 
ish jealousy  so  far  to  blind  your  reason  ? 
Don't  you  see  I  am  going  upon  a  profes- 
sional call  ?  " 


"Oh  !  you  arc.  are  you  ?     Quite  pr 
sional,  I'll  be  bound." 

"Oh.  air  !   Oh,  madam  !    I  beseech  you, 

save   me   from  the  anger  of  my  relati 
and   the  disgrace  of  exposure.     Pray  take 
me  back  al  oner  " 

••  Why,  heavens  !  ma'am  whal  do  you 
mean  ?  You  are  not  gone  mad,  as  well  as 
my  wife." 

'••  Really,  Mr.  Fitz," said  Mrs.  F.,  "this 
is  carrying  the  joke  too  far.  Take  your 
unfortunate  victim — as  I  suppose  shi 
such — homo  to  her  parents,  and  prepare 
co  accompany  me  to  the  barrack  .  and  if 
there  be  law  and  justice  in " 

"  Well  !  may  the  Lord  in  his  mercy  pre- 
serve my  senses,  or  you  will  both  drive  me 
clean  mad." 

"Oh,  dear!  oh.  dear!"  sobbed  the 
young  lady,  while  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  contin- 
ued to  upbraid  at  the  top  of  her  voice, 
heedless  of  the  disclaimers  and  proti 
tions  of  innocence  poured  out  with  the 
eloquence  of  despair  by  the  poor  doctor. 
Matters  were  in  this  state,  when  a  man 
dressed  in  a  fustian  jacket,  like  a  groom, 
drove  up  to  the  side  of  the  road  in  a  tax- 
cart  ;  he  immediately  got  down,  and  tear- 
ing open  the  door  of  the  doctor's  cha 
lifted  out  the  young  lady,  and  deposited 
her  safely  in  his  own  conveyance,  merely 
adding, — 

"I  say,  master, you're  in  luck  this  morn- 
ing that  Mr.  William  took  the  lower 
road,  for  if  he  had  come  up  with  you  in- 
stead of  me,  he'd  blow  the  roof  off  your 
skull,  that's  all." 

While  these  highly  satisfactory  words 
were  being  addressed  to  poor  Fitz.  Mrs. 
Fitzgerald  had  removed  from  her  carriage 
to  that  of  her  husband,  perhaps  preferring 
four  horses  to  two,  or  perhaps  she  had  still 
more  unexplained  views  of  the  transac- 
tion, which  might  as  well  be  told  on  the 
road  homeward. 

Whatever  might  have  been  the  nature  of 
Mrs.  F.'s  dissertation,  nothing  is  known. 
The  chaise  containing  these  turtle-doves 
arrived  late  at  night  at  Kilkenny,  and  Fitz 
was  installed  safely  in  his  quarters  before 
any  one  knew  of  his  having  come  back. 
The  following  morning  he  was  reported 
ill  ;  and  for  three  weeks  he  was  but  once 
seen,  and  at  that  time  only  at  his  window, 
with  a  flannel  nightcap  on  his  head,  look- 
ing particularly  pale,  and  rather  dark  un- 
der one  eye. 

As  for  Curzon,  the  last  thing  known  of 
him  that  luckless  morning  was  his  hiring 
a  post-chaise  for  the  Eoval  Oak,  from 
whence  he  posted  to  Dublin,  and  hastened 
on  to  England.     In  a  few  days  we  learned 


1)4 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


that  the  adjutant  had  exchanged  into  a 
regiment  in  Canada;  and  to  this  hour 
there  are  not  three  men  in  bhe  I — th  who 
know   the   real   secret   of   that  morning's 

misadventures. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

DETACHMENT   DUTY — AN  ASSIZE  TOWN. 

As  there  appeared  to  be  but  little  pros- 
pect  of  poor  Fitzgerald  ever  requiring  any 
explanation  from  me  as  to  the  events  of 
that  morning,  for  he  feared  to  -venture 
from  his  room,  lest  he  might  be  recognized 
and  prosecuted  for  abduction,  1  thought  it 
better  to  keep  my  own  secret  also;  and  it 
was  therefore  with  a  feeling  of  anything 
but  regret  that  I  received  an  order  which, 
under  other  circumstances,  would  have 
rendered  me  miserable — to  march  on  de- 
tachment duty.  To  any  one  at  all  conver- 
sant with  the  life  we  lead  in  the  army,  I 
need  not  say  how  unpleasant  such  a  change 
usually  is.  To  surrender  your  capital 
mess,  with  all  its  well-appointed  equip- 
ments—your jovial  brother  officers — your 
West  India  Maderia — your  cool  Lafitte — 
your  daily,  hourly,  and  half-hourly  flirta- 
tions with  the  whole  female  population — 
never  a  deficient  one  in  a  garrison  town — 
not  to  speak  of  your  matches  at  trotting, 
coursing,  and  pigeon-shooting,  and  a  hun- 
dred other  delectable  modes  of  getting 
over  the  ground  through  life,  till  it  please 
your  ungrateful  country  and  the  Horse 
Guards  to  make  you  a  major-general, — to 
surrender  all  these,  I  say,  for  the  noise, 
dust,  and  damp  disagreeables  of  a  country 
inn,  with  bacon  to  eat,  whisky  to  drink, 
and  the  priest,  or  the  constabulary  chief, 
to  get  drunk  with — I  speak  of  Ireland  here 
— and  your  only  affair,  par  amours,  being 
the  occasional  ogling  of  the  apothecary's 
daughter  opposite,  as  often  as  she  visits 
the  shop,  in  the  exciting  occupation  of 
measuring  out  garden  seeds  and  senna. 
These  are,  indeed,  the  exchanges,  with  a 
difference,  for  which  there  is  no  compen- 
sation ;  and,  for  my  own  part,  I  never  went 
upon  such  duty  that  I  did  not  exclaim 
with  the  honest  Irishman,  when  the  mail 
went  over  him,  "  Oh,  Lord  !  what  is  this 
for  ?  " — firmly  believing  that  in  the  earthly 
purgatory  of  such  duties  I  was  reaping  the 
heavy  retribution  attendant  on  past  of- 
fences. 

Besides,  from  being  rather  a  crack  man 
in  my  corps,  I  thought  it  somewhat  hard 
that  my  turn  for  such  duty  should  come 
round  about  twice  as  often  as  that  of  my 


brother  officers  :  bul  so  it  is.  I  never  knew 
a  fellow  a  little  smarter  than  his  neighbors 
that  was  not  pounced  upon  by  his  colonel 
for  a  victim.  Now,  however,  I  looked  at 
these  matters  in  a  very  different  light.  To 
leave  head -quarters  was  to  escape  bi 
questioned:  while  there  was  scarcely  any 
posi  to  which  I  could  be  sent  where  some- 
thing strange  or  adventurous  might  not 
turn  up,  and  serve  me  to  erase  I  he  memory 
of  the  past,  and  turn  the  attention  of  my 
companions  in  any  quarter  rather  than 
towards  myself. 

My  orders  on  the  present  occasion  were 
to  march  to  Clonmel,  from  whence  I  was 
to  proceed  a  short  distance  to  the  house  of 
a  magistrate,  upon  whose  information, 
transmitted  to  the  chief  secretary,  the 
present  assistance  of  a  military  party  had 
been  obtained;  and  not  without  every  ap- 
pearance of  reason.  The  assizes  of  the 
town  were  about  to  be  held,  and  many 
capital  offences  stood  for  trial  in  the  calen- 
dar ;  and  as  it  was  strongly  rumored 
that,  in  the  event  of  certain  convictions 
being  obtained,  a  rescue  would  be  attempt- 
ed, a  general  attack  upon  the  town  seemed 
a  too  natural  consequence  ;  and  if  so,  the 
house  of  so  obnoxious  a  person  as  him  I 
have  alluded  to  would  be  equally  certain 
of  being  assailed.  Such,  at  least,  is  too 
frequently  the  history  of  such  scenes  :  be- 
ginning with  no  one  definite  object — some- 
times a  slight  one — more  ample  views  and 
wider  conceptions  of  mischief  follow,  and 
what  has  begun  in  a  drunken  riot — a 
casual  rencontre — may  terminate  in  the 
slaughter  of  a  family,  or  the  burning  of  a 
village.  The  finest  peasantry — God  bless 
them  ! — are  a  quick  people,  and  readier  at 
taking  a  hint  than  most  others,  and  have, 
withal,  a  natural  taste  for  fighting,  that  no 
acquired  habits  of  other  nations  can  pre- 
tend to  vie  with. 

As  the  worthy  person  to  whose  house  I 
was  now  about  to  proceed  was,  and,  if  I 
am  rightly  informed,  is,  rather  a  remark- 
able character  in  the  local  history  of  Irish 
politics,  I  may  as  well  say  a  few  words 
concerning  him.  Mr.  Joseph  Larkins, 
Esq. — (for  so  he  signed  himself) — had  only 
been  lately  elevated  to  the  bench  of  mag- 
istrates. He  was  originally  one  of  that 
large  but  intelligent  class  called  in  Ireland 
"  small  farmers,"  remarkable  chiefly  for  a 
considerable  tact  in  driving  hard  bargains 
— a  great  skill  in  wethers — a  rather  na- 
tional dislike  to  pay  all  species  of  imposts, 
whether  partaking  of  the  nature  of  tax, 
tithe,  grand  jury  cess,  or  anything  of  that 
nature  whatsoever.  So  very  accountable 
— I  had  almost  said  (for  I  have  been  long 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


95 


quartered  in  Ireland)  so  very  laudable — a 
propensity  excited  but  little  of  surprise  or 
astonishment  in  his  neighbors,  the  major- 
ity of  whom  entertained  wry  similar  views 
— none,  however,  possessing  anything  like 
the  able  and  lawyer-like  ability  of  the 
worthy  Larkins,  for  the  successful  evasion 
of  these  inroads  upon  the  liberty  of  the 
subject.  Such,  in  fact,  was  his  talent,  and 
so  great  his  success  in  this  respect,  that  he 
had  established  what,  if  it  did  not  actually 
amount  to  a  statute  of  exemption  in  law, 
served  equally  well  in  reality ;  and  for 
several  years  he  enjoyed  a  perfect  immu- 
nity on  the  subject  of  money-paying  in 
general.  His  ''little  houldin',"  as  he  un- 
ostentatiously called  some  five  hundred 
acres  of  bog,  mountain,  and  sheep-walk, 
lav  in  a  remote  part  of  the  county,  the 
roads  were  nearly  impassable  for  several 
miles  in  that  direction,  land  was  of  little 
value  ;  the  agent  was  a  timid  man,  with  a 
large  family  ;  of  three  tithe-proctors  who 
had  penetrated  into  the  forbidden  terri- 
tory, two  labored  under  a  dyspepsia  for 
life,  not  being  able  to  digest  parchment 
and  sealing-wax,  for  they  usually  dined  on 
their  own  writs  ;  and  the  third  gave  five 
pounds  out  of  his  pocket  to  a  large,  fresh- 
looking  man,  with  brown  whiskers  and 
beard,  that  concealed  him  two  nights  in  a 
hayloft,  to  escape  the  vengeance  of  the 
people,  which  act  of  philanthropy  should 
never  be  forgotten,  if  some  ill-natured 
people  wrere  not  bold  enough  to  say  that 
the  kind  individual  in  question  was  no 
other  man  then  Larkins  himself. 

However  this  may  be,  true  it  is  that  this 
was  the  last  attempt  made  to  bring  within 
the  responsibilities  of  the  law  so  refractory 
a  subject  ;  and  so  powerful  is  habit,  that 
although  he  was  to  be  met  with  at  every 
market  and  cattle-fair  in  the  county,  an 
arrest  of  his  person  was  no  more  contem- 
plated than  if  he  enjoyed  the  privilege  of 
parliament  to  go  at  large  without  danger. 

When  the  country  became  disturbed, 
and  nightly  meetings  of  the  peasantry 
were  constantly  held,  followed  by  outrages 
against  life  and  property  to  the  most 
frightful  extent,  the  usual  resources  of 
the  law  were  employed  unavailingly.  It 
was  in  vain  to  offer  high  rewards.  Ap- 
provers could  not  be  found  ;  and  so  per- 
fectly organized  were  the  secret  associ- 
ations, that  few  beyond  the  very  ringlead- 
ers knew  anything  of  consequence  to  com- 
municate. Special  commissions  were  sent 
down  from  Dublin  ;  additional  police 
force,  detatchments  of  military  ;  long  cor- 
respondences took  placejbetween  the  magis- 
tracy and  the  government — but  all  in  vain. 


The  disturbances  continued  ;  and  at  last 
to  such  a  height  had  they  risen,  that  the 
country  was  put.  under  martial  law  ;  and 
even  this  was  ultimately  found  perfectly 
insufficient  to  repel  what  now-  daily  threat- 
ened to  become  an  open  rebellion  rather 
than  mere  agrarian  disturbance.  It  was 
at  this  precise  moment,  when  all  resoui 
seemed  to  be  fast  exhausting  themsel 
that  certain  information  reached  the 
Castle,  of  the  most  important  nature. 
The  individual  wdio  obtained  and  trans- 
mitted it  had  perilled  his  life  in  so  doing 
— but  the  result  was  a  great  one — no 
than  the  capital  conviction  and  execution 
of  seven  of  the  most  influential  amoi 
the  disaffected  peasantry.  Confidence 
was  at  once  shaken  in  the  secrecy  of  their 
associates;  distrust  and  suspicion  followed. 
Many  of  the  boldest  sank  beneath  the  fear 
of  betrayal,  and  themselves  became  evi- 
dence for  the  crown  ;  and  in  five  month-, 
a  county  abounding  in  midnight  meetings, 
and  blazing  with  insurectionary  fires,  be- 
came almost  the  most  tranquil  in  its 
province.  It  may  well  be  believed  that 
he  who  rendered  this  important  service 
on  this  trying  emergency  could  not  be 
passed  over,  and  the  name  of  J.  Larkins 
soon  after  appeared  in  the  Gazette  as  one 
of  his  Majesty's  justices  of  the  peace  for 
the  county  ;  pretty  much  in  the  same 
spirit  in  which  a  country  gentleman  con- 
verts the  greatest  poacher  in  his  neighbor- 
hood by  making  him  his  gamekeeper. 

In  person  he  was  a  large  and  powerfully- 
built  man,  considerably  above  six  feet  in 
height,  and  possessing  great  activity,  com- 
bined with  powers  of  enduring  fatigue  al- 
most incredible.  With  an  eye  like  a  hawk, 
and  a  heart  that  never  knew  fear,  he  was 
the  person,  of  all  others,  calculated  to 
strike  terror  into  the  minds  of  the  country 
people.  The  reckless  daring  with  which 
he  threw  himself  into  danger — the  almost 
impetuous  quickness  with  which  he  fol- 
lowed up  a  scent,  whenever  information 
reached  him  of  an  important  character — 
had  their  full  effect  upon  a  people  who, 
long  accustomed  to  the  slowness  and  the 
uncertainty  of  the  law,  were  almost  para- 
lyzed, at  beholding  detection  and  punish- 
ment follow  on  crime  as  certainly  as  the 
thunder-crash  follows  the  lightning. 

His  great  instrument  for  this  purpose 
was  the  obtaining  information  from  sworn 
members  of  the  secret  societies,  and  whose 
names  never  appeared  in  the  course  of  a 
trial  or  a  prosecution,  until  the  measure  of 
their  iniquity  was  completed,  when  they 
usually  received  a  couple  of  hundred 
pounds,    blood-money,    as    it  was  called 


96 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


with  which  they  took  themselves  away  to 
America  or  Australia— their  lives  being 
only  secured  while  they  remained  by  the 
shelter  afforded  them  in  the  magistrate's 
own  house.  And  so  it  happened  thai  con- 
stantly there  numbered  from  ten  to  twelve 
of  these  wretches,  inmates  of  his  family, 
each  of  whom  had  the  harden  of  participa- 
tion in  one  murder  at  least,  waiting  for  an 
opportunity  to  leave,  the  country,  unno- 
ticed and  unwatched. 

Such  a  frightful  and  unnatural  state  of 
things  can  hardly  be  conceived;  and  yet, 
shocking  as  it  was,  it  was  a  relief  to  that 
which  led  to  it.  I  have  dwelt,  perhaps, 
too  long  upon  this  painful  subject;  but  let 
my  reader  now  accompany  me  a  little  far- 
ther, and  the  scene  shall  be  changed. 
•Does  he  see  that  long,  low,  white  house, 
with  a  tall,  steep  roof,  perforated  with  in- 
numerable  narrow  windows  ?  There  are  a 
few  straggling  beech-trees  upon  a  low, 
bleak-looking  field  before  the  house,  which 
is  called  by  courtesy  the  lawn  ;  a  pig  or 
two,  some  geese,  and  a  tethered  goat,  are 
here  and  there  musing  over  the  state  of 
Ireland  ;  while  some  rosy,  curly-headed, 
noisy,  and  bare-legged  urchins  are  gambol- 
ling before  the  door.  This  is  the  dwelling 
of  the  worshipful  justice,  to  which  myself 
and  my  party  were  now  approaching  with 
that  degree  of  activity  which  attends  on 
most  marches  of  twenty  miles,  under  the 
oppressive  closeness  of  a  day  in  autumn. 
Fatigued  and  tired  as  I  was,  yet  I  could 
not  enter  the  little  enclosure  before  the 
house  without  stopping  for  a  moment  to 
admire  the  view  before  me.  It  was  a  large 
tract  of  rich  country,  undulating  on  every 
side,  and  teeming  with  corn-fields,  in  all 
the  yellow  gold  of  ripeness;  here  and  there, 
almost  hid  by  small  clumps  of  ash  and  al- 
der, were  scattered  some  cottages,  from 
which  the  blue  smoke  rose  in  a  curling 
column  into  the  calm  evening  sky.  All 
was  graceful  and  beautifully  tranquil  ;  and 
you  might  have  selected  the  picture  as  em- 
blematic of  that  happiness  and  repose  we 
so  constantly  associate  with  our  ideas  of 
the  country  ;  and  yet,  before  that  sun  had 
even  set,  which  now  gilded  the  landscape, 
its  glories  would  be  replaced  by  the  lurid 
glare  of   nightly   incendiarism,   and 


But  here,  fortunately  for  my  reader,  and, 
perhaps,  myself,  I  am  interrupted  in  my 
meditations  by  a  rich,  mellifluous  accent, 
saying,  in  the  true  Doric  of  the  South, — 
"Mr.  Lorrequer  !  you're  welcome  to 
Curryglass,  sir.  You've  had  a  hot  day  for 
your  march.  Maybe  you'd  take  a  taste  of 
sherry  before  dinner  ?  Well  then,  we'll  not 
wait  for  Molowny,  but  order  it  up  at  once." 


So  saying,  I  was  ushered  into  along,  low 
drawing-room,  in  which  were  collected  to- 
gel  bier  aboul  a  dozen  men,  to  whom  1  was 
specially  and  severally  presented,  ami 
among  whom  I  was  happy  to  find  my 
boarding-house  acquaintance,  Mr.  Daly, 
who.  with  the  others,  had  arrived  i 
same  day,  for  I  he  assizes,  and  who  were  ;ill 
members  of  the  legal  profession,  either 
barristers,  attorneys,  or  clerks  of  the 
peace. 

The  hungry  aspect  of  the  guests,  no  less 
than  the  speed  with  which  dinner  made  it- 
appearance  after  my  arrival,  showed  me 
that  my  coming  was  only  waited  for  to  com- 
plete tlie  party — the  Mr.  Molowny  before 
alluded  to  being  unanimously  voted  present. 
The  meal  itself  had  hot  slight  pretensions 
to  elegance  ;  there  were  no  delicacies  of 
Parisian  taste;  no  triumphs  of  French 
cookery  ;  hut  in  their  place  stood  a  lordly 
fish  of  some  five-and-twenty  pounds  weight, 
a  massive  sirloin,  with  all  the  usual  arma- 
ment of  fowls,  ham.  pigeon-pie,  beefsteak, 
etc.,  lyingiu  rather  a  promiscuous  order 
along  either  side  of  the  table.  The  party 
were  evidently  disposed  to  be  satisfied,  and 
I  acknowledge  I  did  not  prove  an  exception 
to  the  learned  individuals  about  me,  either 
in  my  relish  for  the  good  things,  or  my  ap- 
petite to  enjoy  them,  Dulceest  desiftere  in 
loco,  says  some  one,  by  which  I  suppose  is 
meant,  that  a  rather  slang  company  is  oc- 
casionally good  fun.  Whether  from  my 
taste  for  the  "  humanities"  or  not,  I  am 
unable  to  say.  but  certainly,  in  my  then 
humor,  I  should  not  have  exchanged  my 
position  for  one  of  much  greater  preten- 
sions to  elegance  and  ton.  There  was  first  a 
general  onslaught  upon  the  viands,  crash- 
ing of  plates,  jingling  of  knives,  mingling 
with  requests  for  "more  beef,"  "the  hard 
side  of  the  salmon,"  or  "  another  slice  of 
ham."  Then  came  a  dropping  fire  of 
drinking  wine,  which  quickly  increased, 
the  decanters  of  sherry  for  about  ten  min- 
utes resting  upon  the  table  about  as  long 
as  Taglioni  touches  this  mortal  earth  in 
one  of  her  flying  movements.  Acquaint- 
ances were  quickly  formed  between  the 
members  of  the  bar  and  myself,  and  I 
found  that  my  momentary  popularity  was 
likely  to. terminate  in  my  downfall:  for, 
as  each  introduction  Avas  followed  by  a 
bumper  of  strong  sherry,  I  did  not  expect 
to  last  till  the  end  of  the  feast.  The  cloth 
at  length  disappeared,  and  I  was  just 
thanking  Providence  for  the  respite  from 
hob-nobbing  which  I  imagined  was  to  fol- 
low, when  a  huge,  square  decanter  of 
whisky  appeared,  flanked  by  an  enormous 
jug  of  boiling   water,  and  renewed  prepa- 


'DOES  THAT   HURT   YOTJ,    SIR?"    SAID   I,    IN   A   SOOTHING   AND   AFFECTIONATE   TONE  OF   VOICE. 

(P.    91.) 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


97 


rations  for  drinking  upon  a  large  scale,  seri- 
ously commenced.  It  was  just  at  this  mo- 
ment that  I,  for  the  first  tune,  perceived 
the  rather  remarkable  figure  who  had  wnii- 
(  I  upon  us  at  dinner,  and  who,  while  I 
chronicle  so  many  things  of  little  import, 
deserves  a  slight  mention.  He  was  a  little 
old  man  of  about  fifty-five  or  sixty  years, 
wearing  upon  his  head  a  barrister's  wig, 
and  habited  in  clothes  which  originally  had 
been  the  costume  of  a  very  large  and 
bulky  person,  and  which,  consequently, 
added  much  to  the  drollery  of  his  appear- 
ance; Me  had  been,  for  forty  years,  the 
servant  of  Judge  Vandelcur,  and  had  enter- 
ed his  present  service  rather  in  the  light  of 
a  preceptor  than  a  menial,  invariably  dic- 
tating to  the  worthy  justice  upon  every 
occasion  of  etiquette  or  propriety,  by  a  ref- 
erence to  what  "the  judge  himself"  did, 
which  always  sufficed  to  carry  the  day  in 
Nicholas's  favor,  opposition  to  so  correct  a 
standard  never  being  thought  of  by  the 
justice. 

"That's  Billy  Crow's  own  whisky,  the 
'small  still,' "  said  Nicholas,  placing  the 
decanter  upon  the  table  ;  "  make  muchof  it, 
for  there  isn't  such  dew  in  the  county." 

With  this  commendation  upon  the 
liquor,  Nicholas  departed,  and  we  proceed- 
ed to  fill  our  glasses. 

I  cannot  venture — perhaps  it  is  so  much 
the  better  that  I  cannot — to  give  any  idea 
of  the  conversation  which  at  once  broke 
out,  as  if  the  barriers  that  restrained  it  had 
at  length  given  way.  But  law-talk,  in  all 
its  plentitude,  followed  ;  and  for  two  hours 
I  heard  of  nothing  but  writs,  detainers, 
declarations,  traverses  in  prox.  and  aljbis, 
with  sundry  hints  for  qui  tarn  processes, 
interspersed,  occasionally,  with  sly  jokes 
about  packing  juries  and  confounding  wit- 
nesses, among  which  figured  the  usual 
number  of  good  things  attributed  to  the 
Chief  Baron  O'Grady  and  the  other  savers 
of  smart  sayings  at  the  bar. 

"Ah!"  said  Mr.  Daly,  drawing  a  deep 
sigh  at  the  same  instant — "the  bar  is  sad- 
ly fallen  off  since  I  was  called  in  the  year 
'76.  There  was  not  a  leader  in  one  of  the 
circuits  at  that  time  that  couldn't  puzzle 
any  jury  that  ever  sat  in  a  box  ;  and  as  for 
driving  through  an  act  of  parliament,  it 
was,  as  Sancho  Panza  says,  cakes  and  gin- 
gerbread to  them.  And  then,  there  is  one 
especial  talent  lost  for  ever  to  the  present 
generation- — just  like  stained  glass  and 
illuminated  manuscripts,  and  slow  poisons 
and  the  like — that  were  all  known  years 
ago — I  mean  the  beautiful  art  of  address- 
ing the  judge  before  the  jury,  and  not  let- 
ting them  know  you  were  quizzing  them, 
vol.  i. — 7 


if  ye  like  to  do  that  same.  Poor  Peter 
Pureed  for  that — rest  his  ashes — he  could 
cheat  tin-  devil  himself  if  he  had  need — 
and  maybe  he  has  had.  before  now.  Peter 
is  six  ten  i  years  dead  last  November." 

'•And  what  was  Peter's  peculiar  tact  in 
that  respect,  Mr.  Daly  ?  '*  said  I. 

"Oh,  then,  I  mighi  try  for  hours  to  ex- 
plain it  to  you  in  vain  ;  but  I'll  jus!  give 
you  an  instance  that'll  show  you  better 
than  all  my  dissertations  on  the  subject, 
and  I  was  present  myself  when  it  happened, 
more  by  token,  it  was  the  first  time  I  ever 
met  him  on  circuit. 

"  I  suppose  there  is  scarcely  any  one 
here  now,  except  myself,  that  remembers 
the  great  cause  of  Mills  versus  Mulcahy,  a 
widow,  and  others,  that  was  tried  in  En- 
nis,  in  the  year  '82.  It's  no  matter  if 
there  is  not.  Perhaps  it  may  be  more 
agreeable  for  me,  for  1  can  tell  my  story  in 
my  own  way,  and  not  be  interrupted. 
Well,  that  was  called  'The  old  record,'  for 
they  tried  it  seventeen  times.  I  believe, 
on  my  conscience,  it  killed  old  Jones,  who 
was  in  the  Common  Pleas  ;  he  used  to  say, 
if  he  put  it  for  trial  on  the  day  of  judg- 
ment, one  of  the  parties  would  be  sure  to 
lodge  an  appeal.  Be  that  as  it  may.  the 
Milses  engaged  Peter  special,  and  brought 
him  down  with  a  great  retainer,  m  a  chaise- 
and-four,  flags  flying,  and  favors  in  the 
postilions'  hats,  and  a  fiddler  on  the  roof, 
playing  the  'Hare  in  the  Corn.'  The  inn 
was  illuminated  the  same  evening,  and 
Peter  made  a  speech  from  the  windows 
upon  the  liberty  of  the  press  and  religious 
freedom  all  over  the  globe,  and  there 
wasn't  a  man  in  the  mob  didn't  cheer  him, 
which  was  the  more  civil,  because  few  of 
them  knew  a  word  of  English,  and  the 
others  thought  he  was  a  play-actor.  But 
it  all  went  off  well,  nevertheless,  for  Peter 
was  a  clever  fellow  ;  and  although  he  liked 
money  well,  he  liked  popularity  more,  and 
he  never  went  anywhere  ;  special '  that  he 
hadn't  a  public  meeting  of  some  kind  or 
other,  either  to  abolish  rents,  or  suppress 
parsons,  or  some  such  popular  and  benefi 
cial  scheme,  which  always  made  him  a  great 
favorite  with  the  people,  and  got  him 
plenty  of  clients  But  I  am  wandering 
from  the  record.  Purcell  came  down,  as  I 
said  before,  special  for  Mills  :  and  when 
he  looked  over  his  brief,  and  thought  of 
the  case,  he  determined  to  have  it  tried  by 
a  gentlemen  jury,  for  although  he  was  a 
groet  man  with  the  mob,  he  liked  the 
country  gentlemen  better  in  the  jury-box, 
for  he  was  always  coming  out  with  quota- 
tions frjpm  the  classics,  which,  whether  the 
grand  jury  understood  or  not,  they  always 


98 


CHARLES  LEVEE'S   WORKS. 


applauded  very  much.  Well,  when  he 
came  into  court  that  morning,  you  may 
guess  his  surprise  and  mortification  to  find 
that  the  same  jury  that  had  tried  a  com- 
mon ejectment  case  were  still  in  the  box, 
and  waiting,  by  the  Chief  dust  ire's  direc- 
tion, to  try  Mills  versus  Mulcahy,  the  great 
case  of  the  assizes. 

"I  hour  they  were  a  set  of  common 
clod-hopping  wretches,  with  frieze  coats 
and  brogues,  that  no  man  could  get  round 
at  all,  for  they  were  as  cunning  as  foxes, 
and  could  tell  blarney  from  good  sense, 
rather  better  than  people  with  better  coats 
on  them. 

"Now,  the  moment  that  Mr.  Purcell 
came  into  the  court,  after  bowing  politely 
to  the  judge,  he  looked  up  to  the  box,  and 
when  he  saw  the  dirty  faces  of  the  dealers 
iu  pork  and  potatoes,  and  the  unshaven 
chins  of  the  small  farmers,  his  heart  fell 
within  him,  and  he  knew  in  a  minute  how 
little  they'd  care  for  the  classics — if  he 
quoted  '  Caesar's  Commentaries  '  itself  for 
them — ignorant  creatures  as  they  were  ! 

"  Well,  the  cause  was  called,  and  up  gets 
Peter,  and  he  began  to  '  express '  (as  he 
always  called  it  himself)  '  the  great  distress 
his  client  and  himself  would  labor  under, 
if  the  patient  and  most  intelligent  jury 
then  on  the  panel  should  come  to  the  con- 
sideration of  so  very  tedious  a  case  as  this 
promised  to  be,  after  their  already  most 
fatiguing  exertions  ; '  he  commented  upon 
their  absence  from  their  wives  and  fami- 
lies, their  farms  neglected,  their  crops 
hazarded,  and  in  about  fifteen  minutes  he 
showed  them  they  were,  if  not  speedily  re- 
leased and  sent  home,  worse  treated  and 
harder  used  than  many  of  the  prisoners 
condemned  to  three  months'  imprison- 
ment ;  and  actually  so  far  worked  upon 
the  feelings  of  the  chief  himself,  that  he 
turned  to  the  foreman  of  the  jury,  and 
said,  'that  although  it  was  a  great  devia- 
tion from  his  habitual  practice,  if  at  this 
pressing  season  their  prospects  were  in- 
volved to  the  extent  the  learned  counsel 
had  pictured,  why,  then,  he  would  so  far 
bend  his  practice  on  this  occasion,  and 
they  should  be  dismissed.'  Now  Peter,  I 
must  confess,  here  showed  the  most  culpa- 
ble ignorance  in  not  knowing  that  a  set 
of  country  fellows,  put  up  in  a  jury  box, 
would  rather  let  every  blade  of  corn  rot  in 
the  ground  than  give  up  what  they  always 
supposed  so  very  respectable  an  appoint- 
ment ;  for  they  invariably  imagine  in  these 
cases  that  they  are  something  very  like  my 
lord  tbe  judge,  '  barrin'  the  ermine  ;'  be- 
sides, that  on  the  present  occasion,  Peter's 
argument  in  their  favor  decided  them  upon 


slaving,  for  they  now  felt  like  martyrs, 
and  lirmh  believed  thai  they  were  putting 
the  chief  justice  under  an  obligation  to 
them  for  life. 

"  When,  therefore,  they  heard  the  ques- 
tion of  the  court,  it  did  not'  take  a  mo- 
ment's time  for  the  whole  body  to  rise  en 
masse,  and  bowing  to  the  judge,  call  out, 
•  We'll  slay,  my  lord,  and  try  every  moth- 
er's son  of  them  for  you  ;  ay,  if  it  lasted 
till  Christmas.' 

"  '  I  am  sure,  my  lord,'  said  Peter,  col- 
lecting himself  for  an  effort,  '1  cannot 
sufficiently  express  my  gratitude  for  tbe 
great  sacrifice  these  gifted  and  highly  in- 
telligent gentlemen  are  making  in  my 
client's  behalf  ;  for  being  persons  who  have 
:  great  interests  in  the  country  at  stake, 
their  conduct  on  the  present  occasion  is 
the  more  praiseworthy;  and  lam  certain 
they  fully  appreciate,  as  does  your  lord- 
ship, the  difficulty  of  the  case  before  us, 
when  documents  will  be  submitted,  requir- 
ing a  certain  degree  of  acquaintance  with 
!  such  testimonials  sufficiently  to  compre- 
'  bend.  Many  of  the  title-deeds,  as  your 
<  lordship  is  aware,  being  obtained  under  old 
I  abbey  charters,  are  in  the  learned  lan- 
guages ;  and  we  all  know  how  borne  to  our 
hearts  and  bosoms  comes  the  beautiful  line 
of  the  Greek  poet,  "Vacuus  viator  can- 
tabit  ante  latronem.'  "  The  sound  of  the 
quotation  roused  the  chief  justice,  who  bad 
been  in  some  measure  inattentive  to  the 
preceding  part  of  the  learned  counsel's  ad- 
dress, and  he  called  out  rather  sharply, 
"  Greek  !  Mr.  Purcell — why,  I  must  have 
mistaken — will  you  repeat  the  passage?" 

"'With  pleasure,  my  lord.  I  was  just 
observing  to  your  lordship  and  the  jury, 
with  the  eloquent  poet  Hergesius,  "  Vacuus 
viator  cantabit  ante  latronem."  ' 

"  '  Greek,  did  you  call  it  ? ' 

"  '  Yes,  my  lord,  of  course  I  did.' 

"  '  Why,  Mr.  Purcell,  you  are  quoting 
Latin  to  me — and  what  do  you  mean  by 
talking  of  the  learned  Hergesius  and  Greek 
all  this  time  ? — the  line  is  Juvenal's.' 

"'My  lord,  with  much  submission  to 
your  lordship,  and  every  deference  to  your 
great  attainments  and  very  superior  tal- 
ents, let  me  still  assure  you  that  I  am 
quoting  Greek,  and  that  your  lordship  is 
in  error.' 

"  '  Mr.  Purcell,  I  have  only  to  remark 
that  if  you  are  desirous  to  make  a  jest  of 
the  court,  you  had  better  be  cautious,  I 
say,  sir ;'  and  here  the  judge  waxed  ex- 
ceeding wroth.  'I  say  the  line  is  Latin — 
Latin,  sir — Juvenal's  Latin,  sir — every 
schoolboy  knows  it.' 

"  'Of  course,  my  lord,'  said  Peter,  with 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


99 


great  humility,  'I  bow  myself  to  the  deci- 
sion of  your  lordship  ;  the  line  is,  there- 
fore, Latin.  Yet  I  may  be  permitted  to  hint 
that  were  your  lordship  disposed  to  submit 
this  question,  as  you  are  shortly  about  to 
do  another  and  a  similar  one,  to  those 
clear-sighted  and  intelligent  gentlemen 
there,  I  am  satisfied,  my  lord,  it  would  be 
Greek  to  every  man  of  them.' 

"  The  look,  the  voice,  and  the  peculiar 
emphasis  with  which  Peter  gave  these 
words  were  perfectly  successful.  The 
acute  judge  anticipated  the  wish  of  the 
counsel — the  jury  were  dismissed,  and 
Peter  proceeded  to  his  case  before  those  he 
knew  better  how  to  deal  with,  and  with 
whom  the  result  was  more  certain  to  be  as 
he  wished  it." 

To  this  anecdote  of  the  counsellor  suc- 
ceeded many  others,  of  which,  as  the  whis- 
ky was  potent  and  the  hour  late,  my 
memory  is  not  over  retentive  :  the  party 
did  not  break  up  till  near  four  o'clock,  and 
even  then,  our  seance  only  concluded  be- 
cause some  one  gravely  remarked,  "  that 
as  we  should  be  all  actively  engaged  on  the 
morrow,  early  hours  were  advisable." 


CHAPTER  XX. 


THE  ASSIZE  TOWN. 


1  had  not  been  above  a  week  in  my  new 
quarters  when  my  servant  presented  me, 
among  my  letters  one  morning,  with  a 
packet,  which,  with  considerable  pains,  I 
at  length  recognized  to  be  directed  to  me. 
The  entire  envelope  was  covered  with 
writing  in  various  hands,  among  which  I 
detected  something  which  bore  a  faint 
resemblance  to  my  name  ;  but  the  address 
which  followed  was  perfectly  unreadable, 
not  only  to  me,  as  it  appeared,  but  also  to 
the  "  experts  "  of  the  different  post-offices, 
for  it  had  been  followed  by  sundry  direc- 
tions to  try  various  places  beginning  with 
T,  which  seemed  to  be  the  letter  commenc- 
ing the  "great  unknown  locality  ;"  thus 
I  read,  "Try  Tralee,"  "Try  Tyrone," 
"Try  Tanderagee,"  etc.,  etc.  I  wonder 
that  they  didn't  add,  "  Try  Teheran,"  and 
I  suppose  they  would  at  last,  rather  than 
abandon  the  pursuit. 

"  But,  Stubbes,"  said  I,  as  I  conned  over 
the  various  addresses  on  this  incompre- 
hensible cover,  "are  you  sure  this  is  for 
me  ?  " 

"  The  postmaster,  sir,  desired  me  to  ask 
if  you'd  have  it,  for  he  has  offered  it  to 
every  one  dowu  in  these  parts  lately  ;  the 


waterguard  officers  will  take  it  at  8d.,  sir. 
if  you  won't,  but  I  begged  you  might  have 
the  refusal." 

"Oh  !  very  well;  I  am  happy  to  find 
matters  are  managed  so  impartially  in  the 
post-office  here.  Nothing  like  a  public 
auction  for  making  matters  find  their  true 
level.  Tell  the  postmaster,  then,  I'll  keep 
the  letter,  and  the  rather,  as  it  happens, 
by  good  luck,  to  be  intended  for  me." 

"  And  now  for  the  interior,"  said  1,  as  I 
broke  the  seal,  and  read  : — 

"Paris,  Rue  Castiglione. 

"My  dear  Mr.  Lorrequer. — As  her 
ladyship  and  my  son  have  in  vain  essayed 
to  get  anything  from  you  in  the  shape  of 
reply  to  their  letters,  it  has  devolved  upon 
me  to  try  my  fortune,  which,  were  I  to 
augur  from  the  legibility  of  my  writing, 
may  not,  I  should  fear,  prove  more  suc- 
cessful than  the  " (what  can  the  word 

be?) "  the— the  "—(why,   it  can't  be 

damnable,  surely  ? — no,  it  is  amiable,  I 
see) — "than  the  amiable  epistle  of  my 
lady.  I  cannot,  however,  permit  myself 
to  leave  this  without  apprising  you  that 
we  are  about  to  start  for  Baden,  where  we 
purpose  remaining  a  month  or  two.  Your 
cousin  Guy,  who  has  been  staying  for  some 
time  with  us,  has  been  obliged  to  set 
out  for  Geneva,  but  hopes  to  join  in  some 
weeks  hence.  He  is  a  great  favorite  with 
us  all,  but  has  not  effaced  the  memory  of 
our  older  friend,  yourself.  Could  you  not 
find  means  to  came  over  and  see  us,  if  only 
a  flying  visit  ?  Rotterdam  is  the  route, 
and  a  few  days  would  bring  you  to  our 
quarters.  Hoping  that  you  may  feel  so 
disposed,  I  have  enclosed  herewith  a  letter 
to  the  Horse  Guards,  which  I  trust  may 
facilitate  your  obtaining  leave  of  absence. 
I  know  of  no  other  mode  of  making  your 
peace  with  the  ladies,  who  are  too  highly 
incensed  at  your  desertion  to  send  one 
civil  postscript  to  this  letter,  and  Kilkee 
and  myself  are  absolutely  exhausted  in  our 
defence  of  you. 

"  Believe  me,  yours  truly, 

"  Calloxby." 

Had  I  received  an  official  notification  of 
my  being  appointed  paymaster  to  the  forc- 
es, or  chaplain  to  Chelsea  Hospital,  I  be- 
lieve I  should  have  received  the  informa- 
tion with  less  surprise  than  I  perused  this 
letter.  That,  after  the  long  interval  which 
had  elapsed,  during  which  I  had  consid- 
ered myself  totally  forgotten  by  this  fam- 
ily, I  should  now  receive  a  letter — and 
such  a  letter,  too — quite  in  the  vein  of  our 


iOO 


an  a  R  l  ks  l  /<:  i  uirs  WO  It  KS. 


former  intimacy  and  good  feeling,  inviting 
me  to  their  house,  and  again  professing 
their  willingness  thai  I  should  be  on  the 
terms  of  our  old  familiarity,  was  little 
short  of  wonderful  to  me.  1  read,  too — 
with  what  pleasure  ! — that  slight  mention 
of  my  cousin,  whom  I  had  so  long  regard- 
ed as  my  successful  rival,  but  who  I  began 
now  to  hope  had  not  been  preferred  to  me 
Perhaps  it  was  not  yet  too  late  to  think 
that  all  was  not  hopeless.  It  appeared, 
too,  that  several  letters  had  heen  written 
which  had  never  reached  me  ;  so,  while  I 
accused  them  of  neglect  and  Eorgetful- 
ness,  I  was  really  more  amenable  to  the 
charge  myself  ;  for,  from  the  moment  I 
had  heard  of  my  cousin  Guy's  having  heen 
domesticated  amongst  them,  and  the  ru- 
mors of  his  marriage  had  reached  me,  I 
suffered  my  absurd  jealousy  to  blind  my 
reason,  and  never  wrote  another  line  after. 
I  ought  to  have  known  how  "  bavard" 
Guy  always  was  ;  that  he  never  met  with 
the  most  commonplace  attentions  any- 
where, that  he  did  not  immediately  write 
home  about  settlements  and  pin-money, 
and  portions  for  younger  children,  and  all 
that  sort  of  nonsense.  Now  I  saw  it  all 
plainly,  and  ten  thousand  times  quicker 
than  my  hopes  were  extinguished  before 
they  were  again  kindled,  and  I  could  not 
refrain  from  regarding  Lady  Jane  as  a 
mirror  of  constancy,  and  myself  the  most 
fortunate  man  in  Europe.  My  old  castle- 
building  propensities  came  back  upon  me 
in  an  instant,  and  I  pictured  myself,  with 
Lady  Jane  as  my  companion,  wandering 
among  the  beautiful  scenery  of  the  Neckar, 
beneath  the  lofty  ruins  of  Heidelberg,  or 
skimming  the  placid  surface  of  the  Rhine, 
while,  "mellowed  by  distance,"  came  the 
rich  chorus  of  a  student's  melody.  Idling 
the  air  with  its  flood  of  song.  How  de- 
lightful, I  thought,  to  be  reading  the  lyr- 
ics of  Uhland,  or  Burger,  with  one  so 
capable  of  appreciating  them,  with  all  the 
hallowed  associations  of  the  "  Vaterland  " 
about  us!  "Yes,"  said  I,  aloud,  repeat- 
ing the  well-known  line  of  a  German 
"Lied"  :— 

"  Bekranzt  mit  Laub,  den  lieben  vollen  Becher." 

"Upon  my  conscience,"  said  Mr.  Daly, 
who  had  for  some  time  past  been  in  silent 
admiration  of  my  stage-struck  appearance 
— "  upon  my  conscience,  Mr.  Lorrequer, 
I  had  no  conception  you  knew  Irish." 

The  mighty  talisman  of  the  counsellor's 
voice  brought  me  back  in  a  moment  to  a 
consciousness  of  where  I  was  then  stand- 
ing, and    the  still  more   unfortunate  fact 


that  I  was  only  a  subaltern  in  his  Majesty's 
4— th. 

••  Why.  my  deai-  counsellor,  that  was 
German  I  was  quoting,  not  Irish." 

"With  all  my  heart,"  said  Mr.  Daly,— 
breaking  the  top  off  his  third  egg, — 
"  with  all  my  heart ;  I'd  rather  you'd  talk 
it  than  me.  Much  conversation  in  that 
tongue,  I'm  thinking,  would  be  mighty 
apt  to  loosen  one's  teeth." 

"Not  at  all  ;  it  is  the  most  beautiful  lan- 
guage in  Europe,  and  the  most  musical 
too.  Why,  even  for  your  own  peculiar  taste 
in  such  matters,  where  can  you  find  any 
language  so  rich  in  Bacchanalian  songs  as 
German  ?" 

"I'd  rather  hear  the  '  Cruiskeen  Lawn,' 
or  the  'Jug  of  Punch,' as  my  old  friend 
Pat  Sampson  could  sing  them, than  a  score 
of  your  high  Dutch  jawbreakers." 

"Shame  upon  ye.  Mr.  Daly;  and  for 
pathos,  for  true  feeling,  where  is  there 
anything  equal  to  Schiller's  ballads  ?  " 

"I  don't  think  I've  ever  heard  any  of 
his  ;  but  if  you  will  talk  of  ballads." 
said  the  counsellor,  "give  me  old  Mosey 
M'Garry's  :  what's  finer  than  " — (and  here 
he  began,  with  a  most  nasal  twang  and 
dolorous  emphasis,  to  sing) — 

"  And  I  stepp'd  up  unto  her, 
An'  I  made  a  congee — 
And  I  ax'd  her  her  pardon 
For  the  making  so  free. 

"And  then  the  next  verse  she  says — 

"  Are  you  goin'  to  undo  me, 
In  this  desert  alone  ? 

There's  a  shake  there." 

"For  Henven's  sake,"  I  cried,  "stop; 
when  I  spoke  of  ballads,  I  never  meant 
such  infernal  stuff  as  that." 

"I'll  not  give  up  my  knowledge  of 
ballads  to  any  man  breathing,"  said  Mr. 
Daly  ;  "and  with  God's  blessing,  I'll  sing 
you  one  this  evening,  after  dinner,  that 
will  give  you  a  cramp  in  the  stomach." 

An  animated  discussion  upon  lyrical 
poetry  was  here  interrupted  by  a  summons 
from  our  host  to  set  out  for  the  town.  My 
party  were,  by  the  desire  of  the  magistracy, 
to  be  in  readiness  near  the  court-house, 
in  the  event  of  any  serious  disturbance, 
which  there  existed  but  too  much  reason 
to  apprehend  from  the  highly  excited  state 
of  feeling  on  the  subject  of  the  approach- 
ing trials.  The  soldiers  were,  under  the 
guidance  of  Mr.  Larkins,  safely  ensconced 
in  a  tan-yard;  and  I  myself  having  con- 
signed them  for  the  present  to  a  non-com- 
missioned officer,  was  left  at  perfect  liberty 


IL 1 RR  Y  L  ORREQ  UER. 


101 


to  dispose  of  my  time  and  person  as  it 
might  please  me. 

While  these  arrangements  were  taking 
place,  I  had  entirely  lost  sight  of  Mr.  Daly, 
under  whose  guidance  and  protection  I 
trusted  to  obtain  a  place  within  the  bar  to 
hear  the  trials  ;  so  that  I  was  now  per- 
fectly alone,  for  my  host's  numerous  avo- 
cations entirely  precluded  any  thought  of 
my  putting  myself  under  his  care. 

My  first  object  was  to  reach  the  court- 
house, and  there  could  be  little  difficulty 
in  finding  it,  for  the  throng  of  persons  in 
the  street  were  all  eagerly  bending  their 
way  thither.  I  accordingly  followed  with 
the  stream,  and  soon  found  myself  among 
an  enormous  multitude  of  frieze-coated 
and  red-cloaked  people,  of  both  sexes,  in 
a  large  open  square,  which  formed  the 
market-place,  one  side  of  which  was  flank- 
ed by  the  court-house — for  as  such  I  im- 
mediately recognized  a  massive-looking 
gray  stone  building — in  which  the  numer- 
ous windows,  all  open  and  filled  with  peo- 
ple, exhaled  a  continued  steam  from  the 
crowded  atmosphere  within.  To  approach 
it  was  perfectly  impossible  :  for  the  square 
was  packed  so  closely,t  that  as  the  people 
approached  by  the  various  streets,  they 
were  obliged  to  stand  in  the  avenues  lead- 
ing to  it,  and  regard  what  was  going  on 
from  a  distance.  Of  this  large  multitude 
I  soon  became  one,  hoping  that  at  length 
some  fortunate  opportunity  might  enable 
me  to  obtain  admission  through  some  of 
my  legal  acquaintances. 

That  the  fate  of  those  who  were  then 
upon  their  trial  for  their  lives  absorbed 
the  entire  feelings  of  those  without,  a  mo- 
mentary glance  at  the  hundreds  of  anxious 
and  careworn  faces  in  the  crowd  would 
completely  satisfy.  Motionless  and  silent 
they  stood  :  they  felt  no  fatigue — no  want 
of  food  or  refreshment — their  interest  was 
one  and  undivided — all  their  hopes  and 
fears  were  centred  in  the  events  then  pass- 
ing at  a  short  distance  from  them,  but  to 
which  their  ignorance  imparted  an  addi- 
tional and  more  painful  excitement — the 
only  information  of  how  matters  were 
going  on  being  by  an  occasional  word, 
sometimes  a  mere  gesture,  from  some  one 
stationed  in  the  windows  to  a  friend  in  the 
crowd. 

When  the  contemplation  of  this  singu- 
larly impressive  scene  was  beginning  to 
weary  from  the  irksomeness  of  my  posi- 
tion, I  thought  of  retiring,  but  soon  dis- 
covered how  impossible  was  such  a  step. 
The  crowd  had  blocked  up  so  completely 
all  the  avenues  of  approach,  that  even  had 
I  succeeded   in  getting  from  the  market- 


place, it  would    be   only  to  remain  firmly 
impacted  among  the  mob  in  the  street. 

It  now  also  occurred  to  me,  that  al- 
though I  had  been  assured  by  Larkins  no 
call  could  possibly  he  made  upon  my 
vices  or  those  of  my  party  till  a  tier  the 
trial,  yet,  were  that  to  conclude  at  any  mo- 
ment, I  should  he  perfectly  unable  to  gain 
the  place  where  I  had  stationed  them,  and 
the  most  serious  consequences  might  ensue 
from  the  absence  of  their  officer  if  the  men 
were  required  to  act. 

From  the  time  this  thought  took  )« 
sion  of  me,  I  became  excessively  uncom- 
fortable. Every  expression  of  the  people 
that  denoted  the  progress  of  the  trial  only 
alarmed  me  for  the  conclusion,  which  I 
supposed  might  not  be  distant,  and  1  began, 
with  all  my  ingenuity, to  attempt  my  retreat , 
which,  after  half  an  hour's  severe  struggle, 
I  completely  abandoned,  finding  myself 
scarcely  ten  yards  from  where  I  started. 

At  length  the  counsel  for  the  Crown, 
who  had  been  speaking  to  evidence,  ceased : 
and  an  indistinct  murmur  was  heard 
through  the  court-house,  which  was  soon 
repressed  by  the  voice  of  the  crier  calling 
"Silence!"  All  now  seemed  still  and  si- 
lent as  the  grave — yet,  on  listening  atten- 
tively, for  some  time,  you  could  catch  the 
low  tones  of  a  voice  speaking,  as  it  appear- 
ed, with  great  deliberation  and  slowness 
This  was  the  judge  addressing  the  jury. 
In  a  short  time  this  also  ceased  ;  and,  for 
about  half  an  hour,  the  silence  was  per-* 
fectly  unbroken,  and  both  within  and 
without  there  reigned  one  intense  and 
aching  sense  of  anxiety  that  absorbed 
every  feeling,  and  imparted  to  every  face 
an  expression  of  almost  agonizing  uncer- 
tainty. It  was,  indeed,  a  moment  well 
calculated  to  excite  such  emotions.  The 
jury  had  retired  to  deliberate  upon  their 
verdict.  At  length  a  door  was  heard  to 
open,  and  the  footsteps  of  the  jury,  as  they 
resumed  their  places,  sounded  through  the 
court,  and  were  heard  by  those  without. 
How  heavily  upon  many  a  stout  heart 
those  footsteps  fell  !  They  had  taken  their 
seats — then  came  another  pause — after 
which  the  monotonous  tones  of  the  clerk 
of  the  court  were  heard,  addressing  the 
jury  for  their  verdict.  As  the  foreman 
rise's  every  ear  is  bent — every  eye  strained 
— every  heartstring  vibrates ;  his  lips 
move,  "but  he  is  not  heard  ;  he  is  desired 
by  the  judge  to  speak  louder:  there  is 
another  pause— he  appears  to  labor  for  a 
few  seconds  with  a  mighty  effort,  and.  at 
last,  pronounces  the  words,  ''Guilty,  my 
lord— all  guilty!" 

I  have  heard  the  wild  war-whoop  of  the 


102 


CHAR  L  L  8   L  E  I '  ER'JS    1 1  ORKS. 


Red  Indian,  as,  in  his  own  pine  forest,  ho 
has  unexpectedly  come  upon  the  track  of 
his  tor,  and  t  lie  almost  extinguished  hope 
of  vengeance  has  been  kindled  again  in  his 
cruel  heart — I  have  listened  to  the  scarce- 
ly less  savage  hurra  of  a  storming  party. 
as  they  have  surmounted  the  crumbling 
ruins  of  a  breach,  and  devoted  to  lire  and 
sword,  with  that  one  yell,  all  who  await 
them — and  once  in  my  life  it  has  been  my 
fortune  to  have  heard  the  last  yell  of  defi- 
ance, from  a  pirate  crew,  as  they  sank  be- 
neath the  raking  fire  of  a  frigate,  rather 
than  surrender,  and  went  down  with  a 
cheer  of  defiance  that  rose  even  above  the 
red  artillery  that  destroyed  but  could  not 
subdue  them  ; — but  never,  in  any  or  all  of 
these  awful  moments,  did  my  heart  vibrate 
to  such  sounds  as  rent  the  air  when  the 
fatal  "  Guilty"  was  heard  by  those  within, 
and  repeated  to  those  without.  It  was 
not  grief — it  was  not  despair — neither  was 
it  the  cry  of  sharp  and  irrepressible  an- 
guish, from  a  suddenly  blighted  hope — 
but  it  was  the  long  pent-up  and  carefully- 
concealed  burst  of  feeling  which  called 
aloud  for  vengeance — red  and  reeking  re- 
venge upon  all  who  had  been  instrumental 
in  the  sentence  then  delivered.  It  ceased, 
and  I  looked  towards  the  court-house,  ex- 
pecting that  an  immediate  and  desperate 
attack  upon  the  building  and  those  whom 
it  contained  would  at  once  take  place. 
But  nothing  of  the  kind  ensued  ;  the  mob 
.were  already  beginning  to  disperse,  and 
before  I  recovered  perfectly  from  the  ex- 
citement of  these  few  and  terrible  mo- 
ments, the  square  was  nearly  empty,  and  I 
almost  felt  as  if  the  wild  and  frantic  de- 
nunciation that  still  rang  through  my 
ears  had  been  conjured  up  by  a  heated  and 
fevered  imagination. 

When  I  again  met  our  party  at  the  din- 
ner table,  I  could  not  help  feeling  surpris- 
ed on  perceiving  how  little  they  sympa- 
thized in  my  feelingfor  the  events  of  the  day; 
which,  indeed,  they  only  alluded  to  in  a 
professional  point  of  view — criticizing  the 
speeches  of  the  council  on  both  sides,  and 
the  character  of  the  different  witnesses  who 
were  examined. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Daly,  addressing  our 
host,  "you  never  could  have  had  a  convic- 
tion to-day  if  it  wasn't  for  Mike.  He's  the 
best  evidence  I  ever  heard.  I'd  like  to 
know  very  much  how  you  ever  got  so  clever 
a  fellow  completely  in  your  clutches  ?" 

"  By  a  mere  accident,  and  very  simply,'' 
replied  the  justice.  "It  was  upon  one  of 
our  most  crowded  fair  days — half  the 
county  was  in  town,  when  tin'  information 
arrived  t  hat  the  Walshes  were  murdered  t  he 


night  before  at  the  cross-roads  above  Telena- 

muck  mills.  The  news  reached  me  as  I  was 
signing  some  tithe  warrants,  one  of  which 
was  against  Mickey.  I  sent  for  him  into 
the  office;  knowing  that,  as  he  was  in  the 
secret  of  all  the  evil  doings,  I  might  as  well 
pretend  to  do  him  a  service,  and  offer  to  stop 
the  warrant  out  of  kindness,  as  it  were. 
Well,  one  way  or  another,  he  was  kept  wait- 
ing several  hours  while  1  was  engaged  in 
writing,  and  all  the  count  iw  people,  as  they 
passed  the  window,  could  look  in  and  see 
Mickey  Sheehan  standing  before  me,  while 
I  was  employed  busily  writing  letters.  It 
was  just,  at  this  time  that  a  mounted  police- 
man rode  in  with  the  account  of  the  mur- 
der ;  upon  which  I  immediately  issued  a 
warrant  to  arrest  the  two  MacNeills  and 
Owen  Shirley  upon  suspicion.  I  thought 
I  saw  Mike  turn  pale  as  I  said  the  names 
over  to  the  sergeant  of  police,  and  I  at  once 
determined  to  turn  it  to  account;  so  I  im- 
mediately began  talking  to  Mickey  about 
his  own  affairs,  breaking  off,  every  now  and 
then,  to  give  some  directions  about  the 
men  to  be  captured.  The  crowd  outside 
was  increasing  every  instant,  and  you  need 
not  have  looked  at  their  faces  twice  to  per- 
ceive that  they  had  regarded  Mickey  as  an 
approver  ;  and  the  same  night  that  saw  the 
MacNeills  in  custody,  witnessed  the  burn- 
ing of  Sheehan's  house  and  haggart,  and 
he  only  escaped  by  a  miracle  over  to  Cur- 
ryglass,  where,  once  under  my  protection, 
with  the  imputation  upon  his  character  of 
having  turned  king's  evidence,  I  had  little 
trouble  in  persuading  him  that  he  might 
as  well  benefit  by  the  report  as  enjoy  the 
name  without  the  gain.  He  soon  com- 
plied, and  the  convictions  of  this  day  are 
partly  the  result." 

When  the  applause  which  greeted  this 
clever  stroke  of  our  host  had  subsided,  I 
inquired  what  results  might,  in  all  likeli- 
hood, follow  the  proceedings  of  Avhich  I  had 
that  day  been  a  witness. 

''Nothing  will  be  done  immediately," 
replied  the  justice,  "because  we  have  a 
large  force  of  police  and  military  about  us; 
but  let  either,  or  unhappily  both,  be  with- 
drawn, and  the  cry  you  heard  given  in  the 
market-place  to-day  will  be  the  death-wail 
for  more  than  one  of  those  who  are  well 
and  hearty  at  this  moment." 

The  train  of  thought  inevitably  forced 
upon  me  by  all  I  had  been  a  spectator  of 
during  the  day  but  little  disposed  me  to  be 
a  partaker  in  the  mirth  and  conviviality 
which,  as  usual,  formed  the  staple  of  the 
assize  dinners  of  Mr.  Larkins  ;  and  I  ac- 
cordingly took  an  early  opportunity  to  quit 
the  company  and  retire  for  the  night. 


HARRY  LORREQVFAl. 


103 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


A    DAY   IX    DUBLIX, 


On  a  third  day  of  my  residence  at  Cur- 
ryglass,  arrived  my  friend  Mortimer  to  re- 
place me,  bringing  my  leave  from  the 
colonel,  and  a  most  handsome  letter,  in 
which  he  again  gkmced  at  the  prospect  be- 
fore me  in  the  Callonby  family,  and  hinted 
at  my  destination,  which  I  had  not  alluded 
to,  adding,  that  if  I  made  the  pretence  of 
study  in  Germany  the  reason  for  my  appli- 
cation at  the  Horse  Guards,  I  should  be 
almost  certain  to  obtain  a  six  months' 
leave.  With  what  spirits  I  ordered  Stubbes 
to  pack  up  my  portmanteau,  and  secure 
our  places  in  the  Dublin  mail  for  that 
night,  while  I  myself  hurried  to  take 
leave  of  my  kind  entertainer  and  his 
guests,  as  well  as  to  recommend  to  their 
favor  and  attention  my  excellent  friend 
Mortimer.  He,  being  a  jovial  fellow,  not 
at  all  in  love,  was  a  happy  exchange  for 
me,  since,  despite  Daly's  capital  stories,  I 
had  spent  the  last  two  days  in  watching 
the  high  road  for  my  successor's  arrival. 

Once  more,  then,  I  bade  adieu  to  Curry- 
glass  and  its  hospitable  owner,  whose  labors 
for  "justice  to  Ireland"  I  shall  long  re- 
member, and  depositing  myself  in  the 
bowels  of  his  majesty's  mail,  gave  way  to 
the  full  current  of  my  hopes  and  imagin- 
ings, which  at  last  ended  in  a  sound  and 
refreshing  sleep,  from  which  I  only  awoke 
as  we  drew  up  at  the  door  of  the  Hiber- 
nian, in  Dawson  Street. 

Even  at  that  early  hour  there  was  con- 
siderable bustle  and  activity  of  prepara- 
tion, which  I  was  at  some  loss  to  account 
for,  till  informed  by  the  waiter  that  there 
were  upwards  of  three  hundred  strangers 
in  the  house,  it  being  the  day  of  his  Maj- 
esty's expected  arrival  on  his  visit  to  Ire- 
land, and  a  very  considerable  section  of 
the  County  of  Galway  being  at  that  mo- 
ment, with  their  wives  and  families,  in- 
stalled, for  the  occasion,  in  this,  their  fa- 
vorite hotel. 

Although  I  had  been  reading  of  this  ap- 
proaching event  every  day  for  the  last 
three  months,  I  could  not  help  feeling  sur- 
' prised  at  the  intense  appearance  of  excite- 
ment it  occasioned,  and,  in  the  few  minutes* 
conversation  I  held  with  the  waiter,  learn- 
ed the  total  impossibility  of  procuring  a 
lodging  anywhere,  and  that  I  could  not 
have  a  bed,  even  where  I  to  offer  five 
guineas  for  it.  Having,  therefore,  no  in- 
clination for  sleep,  even  upon  easier  terms, 
I  ordered  my  breakfast  to  be  ready  at  ten, 
and  set  out   upon   a    stroll    through   the 


;  town.     I  could  not  help,  in  my  shorl  ram- 
ble through    the  streets,   perceiving   how 
I  admirably  adapted  were  the  worthy  Dublin- 
'  ites  for  all  tin'  honors  that  awaited  them  ; 
garlands  of  flowers,  transparencies,  flags, 
and  the  other  insignia  of  rejoicing,  were 
j  everywhere  in  preparation,  and,  at  the  end 
'  of  Sackville  Street,  a  considerable  erection, 
'  very  much  resembling  an  impromptu  gal- 
I  lows,  was  being  built  for  the  purpose,  as  1 
afterwards   learnt,  of  giving  the  worship- 
ful  the    lord    mayor   the    opportunity   of 
opening  the  city  gates  to  royality  :  creating 
|  the   obstacle  where  none  existed   being  a 
j  very  ingenious  conceit,    and   considerably 
Irish  into  the  bargain.     I  could  not  help 
J  feeling    some    desire    to    witness    how   all 
\  should  go  off,  to  use  the  theatrical  phrase  ; 
but,  in  my  anxiety  to  get  on  to  the  Conti- 
nent, I  at  once  abandoned  every  thought 
of  delay.      When  I  returned  to  the  coffee- 
room  of  my  hotel,  I  found  it  crowded  to 
excess  ;  every  little    table,  originally  des- 
'  tined  for  the  accommodation   of  one,  hav- 
ing at  least  two.  and  sometimes  three   oc- 
cupants.     Tn  my  hurried  glance  round  the 
|  room,  to  decide  where  I  should  place  my- 
self, I  was  considerably  struck  with  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  stout  elderly  gentleman  with 
;  red  whiskers,  and  a  high,  bald  forehead  : 
he  had,  although  the  day  was  an  oppres- 
sively hot  one,  three  waistcoats  on,  and  by 
:  the  brown   York  tan    of  his    long-topped 
;  boots,    evinced   a   very   considerable   con- 
tempt either   for  weather  or  fashion  :  in 
the  quick  glance  of*  his  sharp  gray  eye  I 
read    that  he  listened  half  doubtingly  to 
the  narrative    of    his    companions,  whose 
back  was  turned  towards  me,  but  who  ap- 
peared, from   the   occasional  words  which 
reached  me,  to  be  giving  a  rather  marvel- 
lous and  melodramatic  version  of  the  ex- 
pected  pleasures   of    the   capital.     There 
was  something  in  the  tone  of  the  speaker's 
voice    that    I    thought    I    recognized  ;    I 
accordingly    drew    near,  and    what    was 
my  surprise  to  discover   my  friend   Tom 
O'Elaherty.      After    our    first    salutation 
was  over,  Tom  presented  me  to  his  friend, 
Mr.  Burke,   of   somewhere,   who,  he  con- 
tinued to  inform   me,  in   a  stage  whisper, 
was  a  "  regular  quiz,"  and  never  in  Dublin 
in  his  life  before. 

''And  so,  you  say,  sir,  that  His  Majesty 
cannot  enter  without  the  permission  of  the 
lord  mayor  ?  " 

-And  the  aldermen,  too,"  replied  Tom. 
"It  is  an  old  feudal  ceremony  ;  when  His 
Majesty  comes  up  to  the  gate,  he  demands 
admission,  and  the  lord  mayor  refuses, 
because  he  would  be  thus  surrendering  his 
great   prerogative   of    head   of   the   city ; 


104 


c/IA  Jl  L  ES  LE  VERS   WO  J!  KS. 


then  the  aldermen  get  about  him,  and 
cajole  him,  and  by  degrees  he's  wen  over 
.»v  the  promise  of  being  knighted,  and  the 

king  gains  the  day,  and  enters." 

•■  Upon  my  conscience,  a  mighty  ridicu- 
lous ceremony  it  is,  after  all,"  said  Mr. 
Burke,"  and  very  like  a  bargain  forsheep  in 
Ballinasloe  fair,  when  the  buyer  and  seller 
appear  to  be  going  to  fight,  till  a  mutual 
friend  set  lies  the  bargain  between  them." 

At  this  moment,  Mr.  Burke  suddenly 
sprang  from  his  chair,  which  was  uearesl 
the  window,  to  look  out;  1  accordingly 
followed  his  example,  and  beheld  a  rather 
ludicrous  procession,  if  such  it  could  be 
called,  consisting  of  so  few  persons.  The 
principal  individual  in  the  group  was  a 
florid,  fat,  happy-looking  gentleman  of 
about  fifty,  with  a  profusion  of  nearly 
white  whiskers,  which  met  at  his  chin, 
mounted  upon  a  sleek  charger,  whose  half- 
ambling,  half-prancing  pace,  had  evidently 
been  acquired  by  long  habit  of  going  in 
procession ;  this  august  figure  was  habited 
in  a  scarlet  coat  and  cocked-hat,  having 
"tags,"  and  all  the  other  appanage  of  a 
general  officer  ;  he  also  wore  tight  buck- 
skin breeches,  and  high  jack-boots,  like 
those  of  the  Horse  Guards  ;  as  he  looked 
from  side  to  side,  with  a  self-satisfied,  con- 
tented air,  he  appeared  quite  insensible  of 
the  cortege  which  followed  and  preceded 
him  ;  the  latter  consisting  of  some  score  of 
half-ragged  boys,  yelling  and  shouting 
with  all  their  might,  and  the  former  being 
a  kind  of  installment  hi  hand  of  the  Dub- 
lin Militia  Band,  and  who,  in  numbers 
and  equipment,  closely  resembled  the 
'•'army"  which  accompanies  the  first  ap- 
pearance of  Bombastes,  the  only  difference, 
that  these  I  speak  of  did  not  play  the 
'•  Rogue's  March,"  which  might  have  per- 
haps appeared  personal. 

As  this  goodly  procession  advanced,  Mr. 
Burke's  eyes  became  riveted  upon  it ;  it 
was  the  first  wonder  he  had  yet  beheld, 
and  he  devoured  it. 

'•May  I  ask,  sir,"  said  he,  at  length, 
"  who  that  is  ?  " 

"Who  that  is!"  said  Tom,  surveying 
him  leisurely  as  he  spoke  ;  "  why  surely, 
sir,  you  must  be  jesting,  or  you  would  not 
ask  such  a  question  ;  1  trust,  indeed,  every 
one  knows  who  he  is.  Eh,  Harry  ?"  said 
he,  looking  at  me  for  a  confirmation  of 
what  he  said,  and  to  which,  of  course,  I 
assented  by  a  look. 

"Well,  but,  my  dear  Mr.  OTlaherty, 
you  forget  how  ignorant  I  am  of  everything 
here " 

<;Ah,  true,"  said  Tom,  interrupting;  "I 
forget  you  never  saw  him  before." 


"  And  who  is  he,  sir  ?  " 

"  Why,  that's  the  Duke  of  Wellington, 
sir!" 

'•Lord  have  mercy  upon  me,  is  it?" 
said  Mr.  Burke,  as  he  upset  the  table,  and 
all  its  breakfast  equipage,  and  rushed 
through  the  coffee-room  like  one  possessed. 
Before  I  could  half  recover  from  the  fit  of 
laughing  this  event  threw  me  into,  1  heard 
him  as  he  ran  full  speed  down  Dawson 
Street,  waving  his  hat,  and  shouting  at  the 
tojt  of  his  lungs,  •'  God  bless  your  Grace  ! 
— Long  life  toyourGrace  ! — Hurra  for  the 
hero  of  Waterloo! — the  great  captain  of 
the  age  ! '*  etc.,  etc..  which  1  grieve  to  say, 
for  the  ingratitude  of  the  individual  laud- 
ed, seemed  not  to  afford  him  half  the 
pleasure,  and  none  of  the  amusement,  it 
did  the  mob.  who  re-echoed  the  shouts  and 
cheering  till  he  was  hid  within  the  pre- 
cincts of  the  Mansion  House. 

"And  now."  said  Tom,  to  me,  "finish 
your  breakfast  as  fast  as  possible  ;  for, 
when  Burke  comes  back,  he  will  be  boring 
me  to  dine  with  him,  or  some  such  thing, 
as  a  kind  of  acknowledgment  of  his  grati- 
tude for  showing  him  the  Duke.  Do  you 
know,  he  has  seen  more  wonders  through 
my  poor  instrumentality  within  the  last 
three  days  in  Dublin,  than  a  six  months' 
trip  to  the  Continent  would  show  most 
men.  I  have  made  him  believe  that  Burke 
Bethel  is  Lord  Brougham,  and  I  am  about 
to  bring  him  to  a  soiree  at  Miladi's,  whom 
he  supposes  to  be  the  Marchioness  of  Con- 
yngham.  A  propos  to  the  dear  '  Blew,1 
let  me  tell  yon  of  a  '  good  hit'  I  was  wit- 
ness to  a  few  nights  since.  You  know, 
perhaps,  old  Sir  Charles  Giesecke.  eh  ?  " 

"I  have  seen  him  once,  I  think, — the 
professor  of  mineralogy." 

"  Well,  poor  old  Sir  Charles,  one  of  the 
most  modest  and  retiring  men  in  exist- 
ence, was  standing  the  other  night  among 
the  mob,  in  one  of  the  drawing-rooms, 
while  a  waltzing-party  were  figuring  away, 
at  which,  with  that  fondness  for  la  danse 
that  characterizes  every  German  of  any 
age,  he  was  looking  with  much  interest, 
when  my  lady  came  tripping  up,  and  the 
following  short  dialogue  ensued  within  my 
ear- shot : — 

"  '  Ah,  moncher  Sir  Charles,  ravi  de  vous 
voir.      But  why  are  you  not  dancing  ?' 

"  '  Ah,  miladi,  je  ne  puis  pas,  e'est-a- 
dire,  ich  kann  es  nicht ;  I  am  too  old  ;  ich 
bin ' 

"'Oh,  you  horrid  man  !  1  understand 
you  perfectly.  You  hate  ladies,  that  is 
the  real  reason.  You  do — you  know  you 
do.' 

"'Ah,  miladi,  guadige   Fran;  glauben 


HA  RRY  L  ORREQ  UER. 


105 


sie  mich  ;  I  do  loave  dc  ladies  ;  I  do  adore 
de  sex.  Do  you  know,  miladi,  when  I  was 
in  Greenland  I  did  keep  four  womans.' 

•' '  Oh,  shocking,  horrid,  vile  Sir  Charles ! 
how  could  you  tell  me  such  a  story  ?  I 
shall  die  of  it  !' 

'"Ah,  mine  Gott,  miladi.  sie  irren  sich; 
vous  vous  trompez.  You  are  quite  in  mis- 
take :  it  was  only  to  row  my  boat! ' 

"I  leave  you  to  guess  how  my  lady's 
taste  for  the  broadside  of  the  story,  and 
poor  Sir  Charle's  vindication  of  himself,  in 
regard  to  his  estimation  of  le  beau  sexe, 
amused  all  who  heard  it  :  as  for  me,  I  had 
to  leave  the  room,  half-choked  with  sup- 
pressed laughter.  And  now,  let  us  bolt. 
for-  I  see  Burke  coming,  and,  upon  my 
soul,  I  am  tired  of  telling  him  lies,  and 
must  rest  on  my  oars  for  a  few  hours  at 
least."' 

"  But  where  is  the  necessity  for  so  do- 
ing?" said  I ;  ''surely,  where  there  is  so 
much  of  novelty  as  a  large  city  presents  to 
a  visitor  for  the  first  time  there  is  little  oc- 
casion to  draw  upon  imagination  for  your 
facts." 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Harry,  how  little  do  you 
know  of  life  !  There  is  a  kind  of  man 
whose  appetite  for  the  marvelous  is  such, 
that  he  must  be  crammed  with  miracles  or 
he  dies  of  inanition,  and  you  might  as  well 
attempt  to  feed  a  tiger  npon  pcite  de  foie 
gras,  as  satisfy  him  by  mere  naked  unvar- 
nished, truth,  I'll  just  give  you  an  easy 
illustration  ;  you  saw  his  delight  this  morn- 
ing when  the  '  Duke  '  rode  past  ;  well,  I'll 
tell  you  the  converse  of  that  proposition 
now.  The  night  hefore  last,  having  nothing 
better  to  do,  we  went  to  the  theatre  ;  the 
piece  was  La  Perouse,  which  they  have 
been  playing  here  for  the  last  two  months 
to  crowded  houses,  to  exhibit  some  North 
American  Indians  whom  some  theatrical 
speculator  brought  over  'special,'  in  all 
the  horrors  of  fur,  wampum,  and  yellow 
ochre.  .Finding  the  'spectacle'  rather 
uninteresting,  I  leaned  back  in  my  box, 
and  fell  into  a  doze.  Meanwhile,  my  in- 
quiring friend,  Mr.  Burke,  who  felt  natur- 
ally anxious,  as  he  always  does,  to  get  an 
fond  of  matters,  left  his  place  to  obtain  in- 
formation about  the  piece,  the  audience, 
and,  above  all,  the  authenticity  of  the  In- 
dians, who  certainly  astonished  him  con- 
siderably. 

"Now  it  so  happened  that  about  a  fort- 
night previously  some  violent  passion  to 
return  home  to  their  own  country  had 
seized  these  interesting  individuals,  and 
they  felt  the  most  irresistible  longing  to 
abandon  the  savage  and  unnatural  condi- 
ments of  roast  beef  and  Guinness's  porter, 


and  resume  their  ancient  and  more  civiliz- 
ed habits  of  life.  In  fact,  like  the  old 
African  lady  mentioned  by  the  missionary 
at  the  Cape,  tiny  felt  they  could  die  hap- 
py if  they 'could  only  once  more  have  a 
roast  child  for  supper,'  and.  as  such  luxuries 
are  dear  in  this  country,  stay  another  week 
they  would  not,  whatever  the  consequences 
might  be  ;  the  manager  reasoned,  begged, 
implored,  and  threatened,  by  turns ;  all 
would  not  do,  go  they  were  determined, 
and  all  that  the  unfortunate  proprietor 
could  accomplish  was  to  make  a  purchase 
of  their  properties  in  fur,  belts,  bows,  ar- 
rows, and  feathers,  and  get  them  away 
quietely,  without  the  public  being  the 
wiser.  The  piece  was  too  profitable  a  one 
to  abandon,  so  he  looked  about  anxiously. 
to  supply  the  deficiency  in  his  corps  dra- 
maUque.  For  several  days  nothing  present- 
ed itself  to  his  thoughts,  and  the  public 
were  becoming  more  clamorous  for  the 
repetition  of  a  drama  which  had  greatly 
delighted  them.  What  wras  to  be  done  ?  In 
a  mood  of  doubt  and  uncertainty,  the 
wretched  manager  was  taking  his  accus- 
tomed walk  upon  the  lighthouse  pier, 
while  a  number  of  unfortunate  country 
fellows,  bare-legged  and  lanky,  with  hay 
ropes  fastening  their  old  gray  coats  around 
them,  were  standing  beside  a  packet,  about 
to  take  their  departure  for  England  for  the 
harvest.  Their  uncouth  appearance,  their 
wild  looks,  their  violent  gestures,  and, 
above *all,  their  strange  and  guttural  lan- 
guage— for  they  were  all  speaking  Irish  — 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  manager  ;  the 
effect,  to  his  professional  eye,  was  good  ; 
the  thought  struck  him  at  once.  Here 
were  the  very  fellows  he  wanted.  It  was 
scarcely  necessary  to  alter  anything  about 
them,  they  were  ready  made  to  his  hand 
and  in  many  respects  better  savages  than 
their  prototypes.  Through  the  mediation 
of  some  whisky,  the  appropriate  liquor  in 
all  treaties  of  this  nature,  a  bargain  was 
readily  struck,  and  in  twro  hours  more  these 
'  forty  thieves '  were  rehearsing  upon  the 
classic  boards  of  our  theatre,  and  once  more 
La  Perouse.  in  all  the  glory  of  red  capital 
letters,  shone  forth  in  the  morning  adver- 
tisements- The  run  of  the  piece  continu- 
ed unabated  ;  the  Indians  were  the  rage  ; 
nothing  else  was  thought  or  spoken  of  in 
Dublin,  and  already  the  benefit  of  Ashewa- 
ballagh  Ho  was  announced,  who,  by  the 
bye,  was  a  little  fellow  from  Martin's  estate 
in  Connemara.  and  one  of  the  drollest  dogs 
I  ever  heard  of.  Well,  it  so  happened  that 
it  was  upon  one  of  their  nights  of  perform- 
ing that  I  found  myself,  with  Mr.  Burke, 
a  spectator   of   their  proceedings ;  I   had 


lOG 


CHARLES   LEVER'S  WORKS. 


fallen  into  an  easy  slumber,  when  a  dread- 
ful row  in  the  box  lobby  roused  me  from 
my  dream,  and  tbe  loud  cry  of  '  Turn  him 
out!'  'Pitch  him  over!*  '  Beat  his  brains 
out!'  and  other  humane  proposals  of  the 
like  nature,  effectually  restored  me  to  con- 
sciousness. 1  rushed  out  of  the  box  into 
the  lobby,  and  there,  to  my  astonishment, 
in  the  midst  of  a  considerable  crowd,  be- 
held my  friend.  Mr.  Burke,  belaboring  the 
box-keeper  with  all  his  might  with  a  cotton 
umbrella  of  rat  her  unpleasant  proportions, 
accompanying  each  blow  with  an  exclama- 
tion of  '  Well,  are  they  Oonnaughtmen, 
now,  you  rascal — eh  ? — are  they  all  west 
of  Athlone,  tell  me  that,  now  ?  1  wonder 
what's  preventing  me  beating  the  soul  out 
of  ye.'  After  obtaining  a  short  cessation 
of  hostilities,  and  restoring  poor  Sharkey  to 
his  legs,  much  more  dead  than  alive  from 
pure  fright,  I  learned,  at  last,  the  teterrima 
causa  belli.  Mr.  Burke,  it  seems,  had  en- 
tered into  conversation  with  Sharkey,  the 
box-keeper,  as  to  all  the  particulars  of  the 
theatre,  and  the  present  piece,  but  especi- 
ally as  to  the  real  and  authentic  history  of 
the  Indians,  whose  language  he  remarked, 
in  many  respects,  to  resemble  Irish.  Poor 
Sharkey,  whose  benefit  night  was  approach- 
ing, thought  he  might  secure  a  friend  for 
life  by  imparting  to  him  an  important  state 
secret  ;  and  when,  therefore,  pressed  rather 
closely  as  to  the  'savages'  whereabout,'  re- 
solved to  try  a  bold  stroke,  and  trust  his 
unknown  interrogator.  '  And  so  you  don't 
really  know  where  they  come  from,  nor 
can't  guess?'  'Maybe,  Peru,'  said  Mr. 
Burke,  innocently.  'Try  again,  sir,' said 
Sharkey,  with  a  knowing  grin.  '  Is  it 
Behring's  Straits  ?'  said  Mr.  Burke.  <  What 
do  you  think  of  Gal  way,  sir?'  said  Shar- 
key, with  a  leer  intended  to  cement  a 
friendship  for  life.  The  words  were  no 
sooner  out  of  his  lips,  than  Burke,  who  im- 
mediately took  them  as  a  piece  of  direct  in- 
solence to  himself  and  his  country,  felled 
him  to  the  earth,  and  was  in  the  act  of 
continuing  the  discipline  when  I  arrived  on 
the  field  of  battle." 


CHAPTER    XXII. 


A    NIGHT    AT    HOWTH. 


"  And  you  must  really  leave  us  so  soon," 
said  Tom,  as  we  issued  forth  into  the 
street  :  "why,  I  was  just  planning  a  whole 
week's  adventure  for  you.  Town  is  so  full 
of  all  kinds  of  idle  people,  I  think  I  could 
manage  to  make  your  time  pass  pleasantly 
enough.'' 


"Of  that,"  I  replied,  "I  have  little 
doubt;  but,  for  \\w  reasons  I  have  jusl 
mentioned,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that 
I  should  not  lose  a  moment  :  and  after  ar- 
ranging a  \'r\v  things  here,  I  shall  start  to- 
morrow by  the  earliest  packet,  and  hasten 
up  to  London  at  once." 

"By  Jupiter,"  said  Tom,  "how  lucky. 
1  just  remember  something  which  conies 
admirably  a  propos.  You  are  going  to 
Pans — is  it  not  SO  ?" 

••  Yes,  direct  to  Paris." 

"  Nothing  could  be  better.  There  is  a 
particularly  nice  person,  a  great  friend  of 
mine — Mrs.  Bingham — waiting  for  several 
days  in  hopes  of  a  chaperon  to  take  care  of 
herself  and  daughter — a  lovely  girl,  only 
nineteen,  you  wretch — to  London,  en  route 
to  the  -Continent ;  the  mamma  a  delight- 
ful woman,  and  a  widow,  with  a  very  satis- 
factory jointure — you  understand  ;  but  the 
daughter,  a  regular,  downright  beauty, 
and  a  ward  in  Chancery,  with  how  many 
thousand  pounds  I  am  afraid  to  trust  my- 
self to  say.     You   must  know,  then,  they 

are  the  Binghams  of ,  upon  my  soul,  1 

forget  where,  but  highly  respectable." 

"I  regret  I  have  not  the  pleasure  of 
their  acquaintance,  and  the  more  because 
I  shall  not  be  able  to  make  it  now." 

"  As  why  ?  "  said  Tom,  gravely. 

"  Because,  in  the  first  place,  I  am  so 
confoundedly  pressed  for  time,  that  I  could 
not  possibly  delay  under  any  contingency 
that  might  arise  ;  and  your  fair  friends 
are,  doubtless,  not  too  eagerly  determined 
upon  traveling  night  and  day  till  they 
reach  Paris.  Secondly,  to  speak  candid- 
ly, with  my  present  hopes  and  fears  weigh- 
ing upon  my  mind,  I  should  not  be  the 
most  agreeable  traveling  companion  to 
two  ladies  with  such  pretensions  as  you 
speak  of  ;  and.  thirdly " 

"Confound  your  thirdly.  I  suppose  we 
shall  have  sixteenthly.  like  a  Presbyterian 
minister's  sermon,  if  I  let  you  go  on. 
Why,  they'll  not  delay  you  one  hour.  Mrs. 
Bingham,  man,  cares  as  little  for  the  road 
as  yourself  ;  and  as  for  your  petit*  soins,  I 
suppose  if  you  get  the  fair  ladies  through 
the  Custom  House,  and  see  them  safe  in  a 
London  hotel,  it  is  all  that  will  be  required 
at  your  bands." 

"Notwithstanding  all  you  say,  I  see  the 
downright  impossibility  of  my  taking  such 
a  charge  at  this  moment,  when  my  own  af- 
fairs require  all  the  little  attention  I  can 
bestow  ;  and  when,  were  I  once  involved 
with  your  fair  friends,  it  might  be  com- 
pletely out  of  my  power  to  prosecute  my 
own  plans." 

As  I  said  this,  we  reached  the  door  of  a 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


107 


handsome-looking  house  in  Kildare  Street, 
upon  which  Tom  left  my  arm,  and,  in- 
forming me  that  he  desired  to  drop  a  card, 
knocked  loudly. 

"Is  Mrs.  Bingham  at  home  ?"  said  he, 
as  the  servant  opened  the  door. 

"No,  sir,  she's  out  in  the  carriage." 

"  Well,  you  see,  Harry,  your  ill-luck  be- 
friends you  ;  for  I  was  resolved  on  present- 
ing you  to  my  friends,  and  leaving  the  rest 
to  its  merits." 

"  I  can  safely  assure  you  that  I  should 
not  have  gone  upstairs,"  said  I.  "  Little 
as  I  know  of  myself,  there  is  one  point  of 
my  character  I  have  never  been  deceived 
in,  the  fatal  facility  by  which  every  new 
incident  or  adventure  can  turn  me  from 
following  up  my  best  matured  and  longest 
digested  plans  ;  and  as  I  feel  this  weakness 
and  cannot  correct  it,  the  next  best  thing  I 
can  do  is  to  fly  the  causes." 

"Upon  my  soul,"  said  Tom,  "you  have 
become  quite  a  philosopher  since  we  met. 
There  is  an  old  adage  which  says, '  No  king 
is  ever  thoroughly  gracious  if  he  has  not 
passed  a  year  or  two  in  dethronement :'  so 
I  believe  your  regular  dady-killer — your- 
self, for  instance — becomes  a  very  quiet 
animal  for  being  occasionally  jilted.  But 
now,  as  you  have  some  commissions  to  do, 
pray  get  done  with  them  as  fast  as  pos- 
sible, and  let  us  meet  at  dinner.  Where 
do  you  dine  to-day  ?." 

"  Why,  upon  that  point,  I  am  at  your 
service  completely." 

"  Well,  then,  I  have  got  a  plan  Avhich  I 
think  will  suit  you.  You  said  you  wished 
to  go  by  Holyhead,  for  fear  of  delay  ;  so 
we'll  drive  down  at  six  o'clock  to  Skinner's, 
and  dine  with  him  on  board  the  packet  at 
Howth.  Bring  your  luggage  with  you,  and 
it  will  save  you  a  vast  deal  of  fuss  and 
trouble  in  the  morning." 

Nothing  could  be  better  management 
for  me  than  this,  so  I  accordingly  promised 
acquiescence  ;  and  having  appointed  a 
rendezvous  for  six  o'clock,  bade  0 'Flaherty 
good-by,  inwardly  rejoicing  that  my  plans 
were  so  far  forwarded,  and  that  I  was  not 
to  be  embarrassed  with  either  Mrs.  Bing- 
ham or  her  daughter,  for  whose  acquaint- 
ance or  society  I  had  no  peculiar  ambition. 

My.  commissions,  though  not  very  nu- 
merous, occupied  the  few  hours  which  re- 
mained, and  it  was  already  a  few  minutes 
past  six  o'clock  when  I  took  my  stand  un- 
der the  piazza  of  the  Post-office  to  wait 
for  O'Flaherty.  I  had  not  long  to  do  so, 
for  immediately  after  I  had  reached  the 
spot,  he  arrived  in  an  open  barouche  and 
four  posters,  with  three  other  young  men, 
to  whom  he  severallv  introduced   me,  but 


wrhose  names  I  have  totally  forgotten  ;  I 
only  remember  that  two  of  the  party  were 
military  men,  then  quartered  in  town. 

When  I  had  taken  my  seat,  I  could  not 
help  whispering  to  Tom,  that  although 
his  friend  Skinner  might  be  " bon"  for  a 
visitation  for  two  at  his  dinner,  yet  as  we 
were  now  so  strong  a  party,  it  might  be  as 
well  to  dine  at  the  hotel. 

"Oh,"  said  he,  "I  have  arranged  all 
that  ;  I  have  sent  him  a  special  messenger 
two  hours  since,  and  so  make  your  mind 
easy — we  shall  not  be  disappointed,  nor 
be  short-taken." 

Our  drive,  although  a  long  one,  passed 
quickly  over,  and  before  we  had  reached 
our  destination,  I  had  become  tolerably  in- 
timate with  all  the  party,  who  were  evi- 
dently picked  men,  selected  by  O'Flaherty 
for  a  pleasant  evening. 

We  drove  along  the  pier  to  the  wharf, 
where  the  steamer  lay,  and  were  received 
at  once  by  Tom's  friend  with  all  the  warm 
welcome  and  hospitality  of  a  sailor,  united 
with  the  address  and  polish  of  a  very  fin- 
ished gentleman.  As  we  descended  the 
companion-ladder  to  the  cabin,  my  mind 
became  speedily  divested  of  any  fears  I 
might  have  indulged  in  as  to  the  want  of 
preparation  of  our  entertainer.  The  table 
was  covered  with  handsome  plate  and  cut 
glass,  while  the  side-tables  glittered  with 
a  magnificent  dessert,  and  two  large  Avine- 
coolers  presented  an  array  of  champagne 
necks  shining  with  their  leaden  cravats 
that  would  have  tempted  an  anchorite. 

I  remember  very  ltttle  else  of  that  even- 
ing than  the  coiq)  cV  ceil  I  have  men- 
tioned ;  besides,  were  my  memory  more  re- 
tentive, I  might  scruple  to  trespass  farther 
on  my  reader's  patience,  by  the  detail  of 
those  pleasures  which,  like  love-letters, 
however  agreeable  to  the  parties  imme- 
diately concerned,  are  very  unedifying  to 
all  others.  I  do  remember,  certainly,  that 
good  stories  and  capital  songs  succeeded 
each  other  with  a  rapidity  only  to  be 
equalled  by  the  popping  of  corks  ;  and 
have  also  a  very  vague  and  indistinct  rec- 
ollection of  a  dance  round  the  table,  evi- 
dently to  finish  a  chorus,  but  which,  it 
appears,  finished  me  too,  for  I  saw  no 
more  that  night. 

How  many  have  commemorated  the 
waking  sensations  of  their  fellow-men, 
after  a  night's  debauch  !  yet,  at  the  same 
time.  I  am  not  aware  of  any  one  having 
perfectly  conveyed  even  a  passing  likeness 
to  the  mingled  throng  of  sensations  which 
crowd  one's  brain  on  such  an  occasion. 
The  doubt  of  what  has  passed,  by  degrees 
Yielding-  to  the   half-consciousness  of  the 


108 


<  IL I  R  L  ES  LE  VERS   WORKS. 


truth,  the  feeling  of  shame,  inseparable, 
except  to  the  habitually  hard-goer,  from 
the  events  thus  dimly  pictured,  the  rack- 
ing headache  and  intense  thirst,  with  the 
horror  of  the  potation  recently  indulged 
in  ;  the  recurring  sense  of  the  fun  or  drol- 
lery of  a  story  or  an  incident  which  pro- 
vokes us  again  to  laugh  despite  the  jarring 
of  our  brain  from  the  shaking, — ail  this, 
and  more,  most  men  have  felt,  and  happy 
are  they  when  their  waking  thoughts  arc 
limited  to  such,  at  times  like  these.  The 
matter  becomes  considerably  worse,  when 
the  following  morning  calls  for  some  con- 
siderable exertion,  for  which,  even  in  your 
best  and  calmest  moments,  you  barely  find 
yourself  equal. 

It  is  truly  unpleasant,  on  rubbing  your 
eyes  and  opening  your  ears,  to  discover 
that  the  great  bell  is  ringing  the  half-hour 
before  your  quarterly  examination  at  col- 
lege, while  Locke,  Lloyd,  and  Lucian  are 
dancing  a  reel  through  your  brain,  little 
short  of  madness  ;  scarcely  less  agreeable 
is  it  to  learn  that  your  friend  Captain 
Wildfire  is  at  the  door  in  his  cab,  to  ac- 
company you  to  the  Phoenix,  to  stand 
within  twelve  paces  of  a  cool  gentleman 
who  has  been  sitting  with  his  arm  in  cold 
water  for  the  last  half-hour,  that  he  may 
pick  you  out  '"artist-like."  There  are, 
besides  these,  innumerable  situations  in 
which  our  preparations  of  the  night  would 
appear  as  none  of  the  wisest  ;  but  I  prefer 
going  at  once  to  my  own,  which,  although 
considerably  inferior  in  difficulty,  was  not 
without  its  own  desagremens. 

When  I  awoke,  therefore,  on  board  the 
Firefly,  the  morning  after  our  dinner- 
party, I  was  perfectly  unable,  by  any  men- 
tal process  within  my  reach,  to  discover 
where  I  was.  On  ship-board  I  felt  I  must 
be — the  narrow  berth,  the  gilded  and  pan- 
*  elled  cabin  which  met  my  eye  through  my 
half-open  curtains,  and  that  peculiar  swel- 
ling motion  inseparable  from  a  vessel  in 
the  water,  all  satisfied  me  of  this  fact.  I 
looked  about  me,  but  could  see  no  one  to 
give  me  the  least  idea  of  my  position. 
Could  it  be  that  we  were  on  our  way  out 
to  Corfu,  and  that  I  had  been  ill  for  some 
time  past  ? 

But  this  cabin  had  little  resemblance  to 
a  transport;  perhaps  it  might  be  a  frigate, 
I  knew  not.  Then  again,  were  we  sailing, 
or  at  anchor  ?  for  the  ship  was  nearly  mo- 
tionless ;  at  this  instant  a  tremendous 
noise  like  thunder  crashed  through  my 
head,  and  for  a  moment  I  expected  we 
had  exploded,  and  would  be  all  blown  up  ; 
but  an  instant  after  I  discovered  it  must 
be  the  escape  of  steam,  and  that  I  was  on 


board  a  packet-ship.  Here,  then,  was 
some  clue  to  my  sil  nation,  and    one  which 

would   probably    have  elicited  all   in  due 

season  ;  hut  just  at  this  moment  a  voice 
on  deck  saved  me  from  any  further  calcu- 
lations.     Two    persons    were    conversing 

whose  voices  were  not  altogether  unknown 
to  me,  but  why  I  knew  not. 

"  Then,  captain.  I  suppose  you  consider 
this  as  an  excellent  passage  ?" 

"  Yes,  of  course  i  do,"  replied  the  cap- 
tain, "it's  only  five  hours  since  we  left 
Howth,  and  now,  you  see,  we  are  nearly 
in  ;  if  we  have  this  inn  of  the  tide  Ave  shall 
reach  the  Head  before  twelve  o'clock." 

"Ha,  ha!"  said  I  to  myself,  '-now  I 
begin  to  learn  something."  So  we  have 
crossed  the  channel  while  I  was  sleeping, 
not  the  least  agreeable  thing  for  a  man  to 
hear  who  suffers  martyrdom  from  sea- 
sickness.    But  let  me  listen  again." 

"  And  that  large  mountain  there,  is 
that  Snowdon  ?  " 

"No:  you  cannot  see  Snowdon  ;  there 
is  too  much  mist  about  it ;  that  mountain 
is  Capel  Carrig  !  and  there  that  bold  bluff 
to  the  eastward,  that  is  Penmen  Mawr." 

"  Come,  there  is  no  time  to  be  lost," 
thought  I  ;  so  springing  out  of  my  berth, 
accoutred  as  I  was,  in  merely  trousers  and 
slippers,  with  a  red  handkerchief,  fastened 
nightcap  fashion  round  my  head,  I  took 
my  way  through  the  cabin. 

My  first  thought  on  getting  upon  my 
legs  was,  how  tremendously  the  vessel 
pitched,  which  I  had  not  remarked  while 
in  my  berth,  but  now  I  could  scarce  keep 
myself  from  falling  at  every  step.  I  was 
just  about  to  call  the  steward,  when  I 
again  heard  the  voices  on  deck. 

"  You  have  but  few  passengers  this 
trip." 

"  I  think  only  yourself  and  a  Captain 
Lorrequer,"  replied  the  captain,  "who, 
by  the  bye,  is  losing  all  this  fine  coast, 
which  is  certainly  a  great  pity." 

"He  shall  not  do  so  much  longer," 
thought  I ;  "  for  as  I  find  that  there  are  no 
other  passengers,  I'll  make  my  toilet  on 
deck,  and  enjoy  the  view  besides."  With 
this  determination  I  ascended  slowly  and 
cautiously  the  companion-ladder,  and  step- 
ped out  upon  the  deck  :  but  scarcely  had 
I  done  so,  when  a  roar  of  the  loudest 
laughter  made  me  turn  my  head  towards 
the  poop,  and  there,  to  my  horror  of  hor- 
rors, I  beheld  Tom  O'Fhiherty  seated  be- 
tween two  ladies,  whose  most  vociferous 
mirth  I  soon  perceived  was  elicited  at  my 
expense. 

All  the  party  of  the  preceding  night 
were  also  there,  and  as  I  turned  from  their 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


109 


grinning  faces  to  the  land,  I  saw,  to  my 
shame  and  confusion,  that  we  were  still 
lying  beside  the  pier  at  Howth  ;  while  the 
bandboxes,  trunks,  and  imperials  of  new 
arrivals  wore  incessantly  pouring  in,  as 
traveling  carriages  kept  driving  up  to  the 
place  of  embarkation.  I  stood  perfectly 
astounded  and  bewildered — shame  for  my 
ridiculous  costume  would  have  made  me 
fly  at  any  other  time — but  there  I  remain- 
ed to  be  laughed  at,  patiently,  while  that 
villain  O'Flaherty,  leading  me  passively 
forward,  introduced  me  to  his  friends — 
"Mrs.  Bingham,  Mr.  Lorrequer  ;  Mr.  Lor- 
requer,  Miss  Bingham.  Don't  be  pre- 
possessed against  him,  ladies,  for  when  not 
in  love,  and  properly  dressed,  he  is  a  mar- 
velously   well-looking  young    gentleman  ; 

and  as " 

What  the  remainder  of  the  sentence 
might  be,  I  knew  not,  for  I  rushed  down 
into  the  cabin,  and  locking  the  door,  never 
opened  it  till  I  could  perceive  from  the 
stern  windows  that  we  were  really  off  on 
our  way  to  England;  and  recognized  once 
more  the  laughing  face  of  O'Flaherty,  who, 
as  he  waved  his  hat  to  his  friends  from  the 
pier,  reminded  them  that  "  they  were  un- 
der the  care  and  protection  of  his  friend 
Lorrequer,  who,  he  trusted,  would  con- 
descend to  increase  his  wearing  apparel 
under  the  circumstances." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


THE  JOURNEY. 


When"  I  did  at  last  venture  upon  deck, 
it  was  with  a  costume  studiously  accurate, 
and  as  much  of  manner  as  I  could  possibly 
muster,  to  endeavor  at  once  to  erase  the 
unfortunate  impression  of  my  first  appear- 
ance ;  this,  however,  was  not  destined  to 
be  a  perfectly  successful  maneuver,  and  I 
was  obliged,  after  a  few  minutes,  to  join 
the  laugh,  which  I  found  could  not  be  re- 
pressed, at  my  expense.  One  good  result 
certainly  followed  from  all  this.  I  became 
almost  immediately  on  intimate  terms  with 
Mrs.  Bingham  and  her  daughter,  and 
much  of  the  awkwardness  in  my  position 
as  their  chaperon,  which,  bon  gre,  mal  gre, 
I  was  destined  to  be,  was  at  once  got  over. 
Mrs.  Bingham  herself  was  of  that  style  of 
widow  which  comes  under  the  "fat,  fair, 
and  forty  "  category,  with  a  never-ceasing 
flow  of  high,  almost  boisterous  spirits — an 
excellent  temper,  good  health — and  a  well- 
stocked  purse.  Life  to  her  was  like  a 
game  of  her  favorite  "speculation."  When 


she  believed  the  "company  honest,"  and 
hnetv  her  cards  trumps,  she  was  tolerably 
easy  for  the  result.  She  liked  Kingstown 
— she  liked  whist — she  liked  the  military 
— she  liked  "the  junior  bar,"  of  which 
she  knew  a  good  number — she  had  a  well- 
furnished  house  in  Kildare  Street — and  a 
well-cushioned  pew  in  St.  Anne's — she  was 
a  favorite  at  the  Castle — and  Dr.  Labatt 
"knew  her  constitution."  Why,  with  all 
these  advantages,  she  should  ever  have 
thought  of  leaving  the  "happy  valley"  of 
her  native  city,  it  was  somewhat  hard  to 
guess.  WTas  it  that  thoughts  of  matri- 
mony, which  the  Continent  held  out  more 
prospect  for,  had  invaded  the  fair  widow's 
heart  ?  was  it  that  the  altered  condition  to 
which  politics  had  greatly  reduced  Dublin 
had  effected  this  change  of  opinion  ?  or 
was  it  like  that  indescribable  longing  for 
the  unknown  something,  which  we  read 
of  in  the  pathetic  history  of  the  fair  lady 
celebrated,  1  believe,  by  Petrarch  ?  But  I 
quote  from  memory  : — 

"Mrs.  Gill  is  very  ill, 

Nothing  can  improve  her, 
But  to  see  the  Tuileries, 
And  waddle  through  the  Louvre." 

None  of  these,  I  believe,  however  good 
and  valid  reasons  in  themselves,  were  the 
moving  powers  upon  the  present  occasion  ; 
the  all-sufficient  one  being  that  Mrs.  Bing- 
ham had  a  daughter.  Xow  Miss  Bingham 
was  Dublin  too — but  Dublin  of  a  later 
edition — and  a  finer,  more  hot-pressed  copy 
than  her  mamma.  She  had  been  educated 
at  Mrs.  Somebody's  seminary  in  Mountjoy 
Square — had  been  taught  to  dance  by 
Montague — and  had  learned  French  from  a 
Swiss  governess — with  a  number  of  similar 
advantages — a  very  pretty  figure — dark 
eyes — long  eyelashes  and  a  dimple — and- 
last,  but  of  course  least,  the  deserved  repu- 
tation of  a  large  fortune.  She  had  made 
a  most  successful  debut  in  the  Dublin 
world,  where  she  was  much  admired  and 
flattered,  and  which  soon  suggested  to  her 
quick  mind,  as  it  has  often  done  in  similar 
cases  to  a  young  provincial  debutante,  not 
to  waste  her  attractions  upon  the  minor 
theatres,  but  at  once  to  appear  upon  the 
"  great  boards  ;  "  so  far  evidencing  a  higher 
flight  of  imagination  and  enterprise  than 
is  usually  found  among  the  class  of  her 
early  associates,  who  may  be  characterized 
as  that  school  of  young  ladies,  who  admire 
"  The  Corsair"  and  Kingstown,  and  say, 
"  Ah,  don't !  " 

She  possessed  mnch  more  common  sense 
than  her  mamma,  and  promised,  under 
proper  advantages,  to  become  speedily  quite 


110 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


suffieiently  acquainted  with  the  world  and 
its  habitudes.  In  the  meanwhile,  1  per- 
ceived that  she  ran  a  very  considerable 
risk  of  being  carried  off  by  some  mus- 
tachioed Pole,  with  a  name  like  a  sneeze, 
who  might  pretend  to  enjoy  access  to  the 
fashionable  circles  of  the  Continent. 

Very  little  study  of  my  two  friends  en- 
abled me  to  see  thus  much  ;  and  very  lit- 
tle "  usage  "  sufficed  to  render  me  speedily 
intimate  witli  both  ;  the  easy  good-nature 
of  the  mamma,  who  had  a  very  method  is- 
tical  appreciation  of  what  the  "connec- 
tion "  call  "creature  comforts,"  amused 
me  much,  and  opened  one  ready  path  to 
her  good  graces  by  the  opportunity  afford- 
ed of  getting  up  a  luncheon  of  veal  cut- 
lets and  London  porter,  of  which  I  par- 
took,  not  a  little  to  the  evident  loss  of  the 
fair  daughter's  esteem. 

While,  therefore,  I  made  the  tour  of 
the  steward's  cell  in  search  of  Harvey's 
sauce,  I  brushed  up  my  memory  of  "  The 
Corsair  "  and  "  Childe  Harold,"  and  alter- 
nately discussed  Stilton  and  Southey, 
Shelley  and  lobsters,  Haynes  Bayley  and 
ham. 

The  day  happened  to  be  particularly 
calm  and  delightful,  so  that  we  never  left 
the  deck ;  and  the  six  hours  which 
brought  us  from  land  to  land  quickly 
passed  over  in  this  manner  ;  and  ere  we 
reached  "The  Head,"  I  had  become  the 
warm  friend  and  legal  adviser  of  the 
mother  ;  and  with  the  daughter  I  was  in- 
stalled as  chief  confidant  of  all  her  griefs 
and  sorrows,  both  of  which  appointments 
cost  me  a  solemn  promise  to  take  care  of 
them  till  their  arrival  in  Paris,  where 
they  had  many  friends  and  acquaintances 
awaiting  them.  Here,  then,  as  usual,  was 
the  fatal  facility  with  which  I  gave  myself 
up  to  any  one  who  took  the  trouble  to  in- 
fluence me  !  One  thing,  nevertheless,  I 
was  determined  on,  to  let  no  circumstance 
defer  my  arrival  at  Paris  a  day  later  than 
was  possible  ;  tberefore,  though  my  office 
as  chaperon  might  engage  me  on  the  road, 
it  should  not  interfere  with  the  object  be- 
fore me.  Had  my  mind  not  been  so 
•completely  engaged  with  my  own  immedi- 
ate prospects,  when  hope,  suddenly  and 
unexpectedly  revived,  had  become  so  tinged 
with  fears  and  doubts  as  to  be  almost  tor- 
ture, I  must  have  been  much  amused  with 
my  present  position,  as  I  found  myself 
seated  with  my  two  fair  friends,  rolling 
along  through  Wales  in  their  comfortable 
traveling  carriage — giving  all  the  orders 
at  the  different  hotels — seeing  after  the  lug- 
gage— and  acting  «w  tnaitre  in  every  respect. 

The  good  widow  enjoyed  particularly  t  lie 


difficulty  which  my  precise  position  with 
regard  to  her  and  her  daughter  threw  tin' 
different  innkeepers  on  the  road  into, some- 
times supposing  me  to  be  her  husband, 
sometimes  her  son.  and  once  her  son-in- 
law;  which  very  alarming  conjecture 
brought  a  crimson  tinge  to  the  fair  daugh- 
ter's cheek,  an  expression  which,  in  my 
ignorance,  I  thought  looked  very  like  an 
inclination  to  faint  in  my  arms. 

At  length  we  reached  London,  and  hav- 
ing been  there  safely  installed  at  M hart's, 
I  sallied  forth  to  present  my  letter  to  the 
Horse  Guards,  and  obtain  our  passport  for 
the  Continent. 

"Number  nine, Poland  Street,  sir,"  said 
the  waiter,  as  I  inquired  the  address  of  the 
French  Consul.  Having  discovered  that 
my  interview  with  the  commander-in-chief 
Avas  appointed  for  four  o'clock,  I  deter- 
mined to  lose  no  time,  but  make  every 
possible  arrangement  for  leaving  London 
in  the  morning. 

A  cab  quietly  conveyed  me  to  the  door 
of  the  Consul,  around'  which  stood  several 
other  vehicles  of  every  shape  and  fashion, 
while  in  the  doorway  were  to  be  seen  num- 
bers of  people,  thronging  and  pressing,  like 
the  Opera  pit  on  a  full  night.  Into  the 
midst  of  this  assemblage  I  soon  thrust  my- 
self, and,  borne  upon  the  current,  at  length 
reached  a  small  back  parlor,  filled  also  with 
people  ;  a  door  opening  into  another  small 
room  in  the  front  showed  a  similar  mob 
there,  with  the  addition  of  a  small  elderly 
man,  in  a  bag-wig  and  spectacles,  very 
much  begrimed  with  snuff,  and  speaking 
in  a  very  choleric  tone  to  the  various  ap- 
plicants for  passports,  who,  totally  ignorant 
of  French,  insisted  upon  interlarding  their 
demands  with  an  occasional  stray  phrase, 
making  a  kind  of  tesselated  pavement  of 
tongues,  which  would  have  shamed  Babel. 
Nearest  to  the  table  at  which  the  function- 
ary sat  stood  a  mustachioed  gentleman,  in 
a  blue  frock  and  white  trousers,  a  white 
hat  jauntily  set  upon  one  side  of  his  head, 
and  primrose  gloves.  He  cast  a  momen- 
tary glance  of  a  very  undervaluing  import 
upon  the  crowd  around  him,  and  then, 
turning  to  the  Consul,  said  in  a  very  so- 
prano tone  : — 

"  Passport,  monsieur  !" 

"Que  voulez-vous  que  je  fasse,"  replied 
the  old  Frenchman,  gruffly. 

"Je  suis  —  j'ai  —  that  is,  donnez-moi 
passport." 

"  Where  do  you  go  ?"  replied  the  Con- 
sul. 

"Calai." 

"Comment,  diable,  speak  Inglis,  an  I 
understan  vou  as  besser.     Your  name  ?  " 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


Ill 


"  Lorraine  Snaggs,  gentilhomme." 

"  What  age  have  you  ? — how  old  ?" 

"  Twenty-two." 

"C'est  ya,"  said  the  old  Consul,  fling- 
ing the  passport  across  the  table  with  the 
air  of  a  man  who  thoroughly  comprehended 
the  applicant's  pretension  to  the  designa- 
tion of  gentilhomme  Anglais. 

As  I  followed  the  worthy  representative 
of  Seven  Dials  with  my  eye,  another  per- 
son had  neared  the  table.  She  was  a 
rather  pretty  young  woman,  with  blue 
eyes,  and  brown  hair  braided  quietly  on 
her  forehead,  and  wearing  a  plain  close 
bonnet  of  a  very  coquettish  appearance. 

"  Will  you  be  seated,  mam'selle  ?  "  said 
the  polite  old  Frenchman,  who  had  hith- 
erto been  more  like  a  bear  than  a  human 
being.  "'On  allez-vous  done?  where  to, 
ma  chere  ?  " 

"To  Paris,  sir." 

"  By  Calais  ?  "     . 

"No,  sir  ;  by  Boulogne." 

"  C'est  bon  ;  quel  age  avez-vous.  What 
old,  ma  belle  ?  " 

"Nfneteen,  sir,  in  June." 

"And  are  you  alone,  quite,  eh  ?" 

"No,  sir.  my  little  girl." 

"Ah  !  your  leetel  girl —c'est  fort  bien — 
je  m'apercois  ;  and  your  name  ?" 

"Fanny  Linwood,  sir." 

"C'est  fini,  ma  chere. — Mademoiselle 
Fanny  Linwood,"  said  the  old  man,  as  he 
wrote  down  the  name." 

"Oh,  sir,  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  you 
have  put  me  down  Mademoiselle,  and — 
and — you  see,  sir,  I  have  my  little  girl." 

"Ah!  c'est  egal,  mam'selle,  they  don't 
mind  these  things  in  France.  An  plaisir 
de  vous  voir — adieu." 

"They  don't  mind  these  things  in 
France,"  said  I  to  myself,  repeating  the 
old  Consul's  phrase,  which  I  could  not 
help  feeding  as  a  whole  chapter  on  his 
nation. 

My  business  was  soon  settled,  fori  spoke 
nothing  but  English — very  little  knowl- 
edge of  the  world  teaching  me  that  when 
we  have  any  favor,  however  slight,  to  ask, 
it  is* always  good  policy  to  make  the  de- 
mand by  propitiating  the  self-esteem  of 
the  granter — if,  happily,  there  be  an  op- 
portunity for  so  doing. 

When  I  returned  to  Mivart's,  I  found  a 
written  answer  to  my  letter  of  the  morning, 
stating  that  his  lordship  of  the  Horse 
Guards  was  leaving  town  that  afternoon, 
but  would  not  delay  my  departure  for  the 
Continent,  to  visit  which  a  four  months' 
leave  was  granted  me,  with  a  recommenda- 
tion to  study  at  Weimar. 

The  next  day  brought  us  to  Dover,  in 


time  to  stroll  about  the  cliffs  during  the 
evening,  when  I  again  talked  sentiment 
with  the  daughter  till  very  late.  The 
mamma  herself  was  too  tired  to  come  out, 
so  that  we  had  our  walk  quite  alone.  It 
is  strange  enough  how  quickly  this  travel- 
ing together  has  shaken  us  into  intimacy. 
Isabella  says  she  feels  as  if  I  were  her 
brother;  and  I  began  to  think  myself  she 
is  not  exactly  like  a,  sister.  She  has  a  mar- 
velously  pretty  foot  and  ankle. 

The  climbing  of  cliffs  is  a  very  dangerous 
pastime.  How  true  the  French  adage — 
"  C'est  plus  facile  de  glisser  sur  le  gazon 
que  sur  la  glace."  But  still  nothing  can 
come  of  it ;  for  if  Lady  Jane  be  not  false, 
I  must  consider  myself  an  engaged  man. 

"  Well,  but  I  hope,"  said  I,  rousing  my- 
self from  a  reverie  of  some  minutes,  and 
inadvertently  pressing  the  arm  which  lean- 
ed upon  me,  "your  mamma  will  not  be 
alarmed  at  your  long  absence  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  not  in  the  least ;  for  she  knows 
I'm  with  you." 

And  here  I  felt  a  return  of  the  pressure 
— perhaps  also  inadvertently  given,  but 
which,  whether  or  not,  effectually  set  all 
my  reasonings  and  calculations  astray  ;  and 
we  returned  to  the  hotel,  silent  on  both 
sides. 

The  appearance  of  "  mamma "  beside 
the  hissing  tea-urn  brought  us  both  back 
to  ourselves  ;  and,  after  an  hour's  chatting, 
we  said  "  Good  night,"  to  start  on  the 
morrow  for  the  Continent. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


It  was  upon  a  lovely  evening  in  autumn, 
as  the  Dover  steamboat  rounded  the  wooden 
pier  at  Calais,  amid  a  fleet  of  small  boats 
filled  with  eager  and  anxious  faces,  solicit- 
ing, in  every  species  of  bad  English  and 
patois  French,  the  attention  and  patron- 
age of  the  passengers. 

"  Hotel  des  Bains,  milor. " 

"Hotel  d'Angleterre,"  said  another,  in 
a  voice  of  the  most  imposing  superiority. 
"  C'est  superbe— pretty  well." 

"Hotel  du  Nord.  votre  Excellence — 
remise  de  poste  and  'delays'  (query,  re- 
lays) at  all  hours." 

"  Commissionnaire,  miladi,"  sang  out  a 
small  shrill  treble  from  the  midst  of  a 
crowded  cock-boat,  nearly  swamped  be- 
neath our  paddle-wheel. 

What  a  scene  of  bustle,  confusion,  and 
excitement  does   the   deck   of   a  steamer 


112 


(U MILKS    LEVERS    WORKS. 


present  upon  such  an  occasion.     Every  one 

is  running  hither  or  thither.  Sunn-  que 
petit  is  now  the  watchword  ;  and  friend- 
ships that  promised  a  lifelong  endurance 
only  half  an  hour  ago,  find  here  a  speedy 
dissolution.  The  lady  who  slept  all  night 
upon  deck,  enveloped  in  the  folds  of  your 
Astrakhan  cloak,  scarcely  deigns  an  ac- 
knowledgment of  you,  as  she  adjusts  her 
ringlets  before  the  looking-glass  over  the 
stove  in  the  cabin.  The  polite  gentleman, 
.hat  would  have  flown  for  a  reticule  or  a 
smelling-bottle  upon  the  high  seas,  won't 
leave  his  luggage  in  the  harbor ;  and  the 
gallantry  and  devotion  that  stood  the  test 
of  half  a  gale  of  wind  and  a  wet  jacket  is 
not  proof  when  the  safety  of  a  carpet-bag 
or  the  security  of  a  "  Mackintosh  "  is  con- 
cerned. 

And  thus,  here,  as  elsewhere,  is  prosper- 
ity the  touchstone  of  good  feeling.  All 
the  various  disguises  which  have  been  as- 
sumed, per  viaggio,  are  here  immediately 
abandoned,  and,  stripped  of  the  traveling 
costume  of  urbanity  and  courtesy,  which 
they  put  on  for  the  voyage,  they  stand 
forth  in  all  the  unblushing  front  of  selfish- 
ness and  self-interest. 

Some  tender  scenes  yet  find  their  place 
amid  the  ruins  of  this  chaotic  state.  Here 
may  be  seen  a  careful  mother  adjusting  in- 
numerable shawls  and  handkerchiefs 
round  the  throat  of  a  sea-green  young  lady 
with  a  cough  ;  her  maid,  at  the  same  in- 
stant, taking  a  tender  farewell  of  the  stew- 
ard in  the  after-cabin. 

Here,  is  a  very  red-faced  and  hot  indi- 
vidual, with  punch-colored  breeches  and 
gaiters,  disputing  "  one  brandy  too  much  " 
in  his  bill,  and  vowing  that  the  company 
shall  hear  of  it  when  he  returns  to  England. 
There,  a  tall,  elderly  woman,  with  a  Scotch- 
grey  eye,  and  a  sharp  cheek-bone,  is  de- 
positing within  her  muff  various ■  seizable 
articles,  that,  until  now,  had  been  lying 
quietly  in  her  trunk.  Yonder,  thatraw-look- 
ing  young  gentleman,  with  the  crumpled 
frock-coat,  and  loose  cravat,  and  sea-sick 
visage,  is  askingeveryone  "if  theythinkhe 
may  land  without  a  passport. "  You  scarcely 
recognize  him  for  the  cigar-smoking  dandy 
of  yesterday,  that  talked  as  if  he  had  lived 
half  his  life  on  the  Continent.  While 
there,  a  rather  pretty  girl  is  looking  intent- 
ly at  some  object  in  the  blue  water,  beside 
the  rudder  post.  You  are  surprised  you 
cannot  make  it  out ;  but  then,  she  has  the 
advantage  of  you,  for  the  tall,  well-looking 
man,  „with  the  knowing  whiskers,  is  evi- 
dently whispering  something  in  her  ear. 

"■  Steward,  this  is  not  my  trunk  ;  mine 
was  a  leather " 


"  All  i  ho  '  leathers'  are  gone  in  the  first 
boat,  sir." 

'•  Most  scandalous  way  of. doing  busi- 
ness." 

"Trouble  vim  for  two-and-sixpence  sir."' 

"There's  Matilda  coughing  again."  says 
a  thin,  shrewish  woman,  with  a  kind  of 
triumphanl  scowl  at  her  better  half  :  "  bul 
you  would  have  her  wear  thai  thin  shawl  ! ' 

"Whatever  may  be  the  fault  of  the 
shawl,  I  fancy  no  one  will  reproach  her 
ankles  for  thinness,"  murmurs  a  young 
I  Guardsman,  as  he  peeps  up  the  companion- 
ladder. 

Amid  all  the  Babel  of  tongues  and  up- 
roar of  voices,  Hie  thorough  bass  of  the 
escape  steam  keeps  up  its  infernal  thun- 
ders, till  the  very  brain  reels,  and,  sick  as 
you  have  been  of  the  voyage,  you  half  wish 
yourself  once  more  at  sea.  if  only  to  have  a 
moment  of  peace  and  tranquillity. 

Numbers  now  throng  the  deck  who  have 
never  made  their  appearance  before.  Pale, 
jaundiced,  and  crumpled,  they  have  all  the 
sea-sick  look  and  haggard  cheek  of  the 
real  martyr — all  except  one,  a  stout,  swar- 
thy, brown-visaged  man,  of  about  forty, 
with  a  frame  of  iron,  and  a  voice  like  the 
fourth  string  of  a  violoncello.  You  won- 
der why  he  should  have  taken  to  his  bed  : 
learn,  then,  that  he  is  his  Majesty's  con 
rier  from  the  Foreign  Office,  with  despatches 
to  Constantinople,  and  that,  as  he  is  not 
destined  to  lie  down  in  a  bed  for  the  next 
fourteen  days,  he  is  glad  even  of  the  nar- 
row resemblance  to  one  he  finds  in  the 
berth  of  a  steamboat.  At  length  you  are 
on  shore,  and  marched  off  in  a  long  string, 
like  a  gang  of  convicts,  to  the  Bureau  de 
FOctroi  ;  and  here  is  begun  an  examina- 
tion of  the  luggage,  which  promises,  from 
its  minuteness,  to  last  for  the  three  months 
you  destined  to  spend  in  Switzerland.  At 
the  end  of  an  hour  you  discover  that  the 
soi-disant  commissionaire  will  transact  all 
this  affair  for  a  few  francs  ;  and,  after  a 
tiresome  wait  in  a  filty  room,  jostled, 
elbowed,  and  trampled  upon  by  boors  with 
sabots,  you  adjourn  to  your  inn,  and  begin 
to  feel  that  you  are  not  in  England. 

Our  little  party  had  but  few  of  the 
miseries  here  recounted  to  contend  with. 
My  savoir  faire,  with  all  modesty  be  it 
spoken,  had  been  long  schooled  in  the  art 
and  practice  of  traveling  ;  and  while  our 
less  experienced  fellow-travelers  were  deep 
in  the  novel  mysteries  of  cotton  stockings 
and  petticoats,  most  ostentatiously  display- 
ed upon  every  table  of  the  Bureau,  we 
were  comfortahly  seated  in  the  handsome 
saloon  of  the  Hotel  du  Nord,  looking  out 
upon  a  pretty  grass-plot,  surrounded  with 


1 1    f  ™'tS 


I   MABCIIED   ON   THROUGH    THE   GRIKNING   CROWD   WITH    THE   STEP  OF   A   MARTYR.       (p.  126.) 


H.  I RR 1 '  L  ORREQ  UER. 


113 


orange-trees,  and  displaying  in  the  middle 
a  fountain  about  the  size  of  a  walking- 
stick. 

"Now,  Mr.  Lorrequer,"  said  Mrs.  Bing- 
ham, as  she  seated  herself  by  the  open 
window,  "never  forget  how  totally  depen- 
dent we  are  upon  your  kind  offices.  Isa- 
bella has  discovered  already  that  the 
French  of  Mountjoy  Square,  however  in- 
telligible in  that  neighborhood,  and  even 
as  far  as  Mount  Street,  is  Coptic  and  San- 
scrit here  ;  and,  as  for  myself,  I  intend  to 
affect  a  deaf  and  dumbness  till  I  reach 
Paris,  where  T  hear  every  one  can  speak 
English  a  little." 

"  Now.  then,  to  begin  my  functions," 
said  I,  as  I  rang  for  the  waiter,  and  ran  over 
in  my  mind  rapidly  how  many  invaluable 
hints  for  my  new  position  my  present 
trip  might  afford  me,  "always  provided" 
(as  the  lawyers  say),  that  Lady  Jane  Cal- 
lonby  might  feel  herself  tempted  tobeeome 
my  traveling  companion,  in  which  ease 
But,  confound  it,  how  I  am  castle- 
building  again  !  Meanwhile,  Mrs.  Bing- 
ham is  looking  as  hungry  and  famished  as 
though  she  would  eat  the  waiter.  "  Ha  ! 
this  is  the  carte" 

"Now,  then,  to  order  supper. " 

"  Cotelettes  d'agneau. " 

"  Mayonnaise  de  homard." 

'•  Perdreaux  rouges  aux  truffes — mark 
that,  aux  truffes." 

"  Gelee  au  maraschino." 

'•And  the  wine,  sir,"  said  the  waiter, 
with  a  look  of  approval  at  my  selection. 
"  Champagne — no  other  wine,  sir  ?" 

"No,"  said  I,  "champagne  only. 
Frappe,  of  course,"  I  added.  And  the 
waiter  departed  with  a  bow  that  would 
have  graced  St.  James's. 

As  long  as  our  immaterial  and  better 
part  shall  be  doomed  to  keep  company 
with  its  fleshy  tabernacle,  with  all  its  at- 
tendant miseries  of  gout  and  indigestion, 
how  much  of  our  enjoyment  in  this  world 
is  dependent  upon  the  mere  accessory  cir- 
cumstances by  which  the  business  of  life 
is  carried  on  and  maintained,  and  to  de- 
spise which  is  neither  good  policy  nor 
sound  philosophy.  In  this  conclusion,  a 
somewhat  long  experience  of  the  life  of  a 
traveler  has  fully  established  me.  And 
nowhere  does  it  press  more  forcibly  upon 
the  mind  than  when  first  arrived  in  a  con- 
tinental inn,  after  leaving  the  best  hotels 
of  England  still  fresh  in  your  memory.  I 
do  not  for  a  moment  dispute  the  very  great 
superiority  in  comfort  of  the  latter,  by 
which  I  would  be  understood  to  mean  ail 
those  resemblances  to  one's  own  home 
which  an  English  hotel  so  eminently  pos- 
vol.  i. — 8 


sesses,  and  every  other  one  go  markedly 
wants  ;  but  1  mean  that  in  contrivances 
to  elevate  the  spirit,  cheer  the  jaded  and 
tired  wayfarer  by  objects  which,  howevei 
they  may  appeal  to  the  mere  sena  -.  rem, 
at  least,  but  little  sensual,  give  m< 
foreign  inn  ;  let  me  have  a  large,  Bpacious 
saloon,  with  its  lofty  walls,  and  its  airy, 
large-paned  windows  (I  shall  not  object,  if 
the  cornices  and  mouldings  be  guilded, 
because  such  is  usually  the  case) — let  the 
sun  and  heat  ef  a  summer's  day  come 
tempered  through  the  dee])  lattices  of  a 
well-fitting  "  jalousie."  bearing  upon  them 
the  rich  incense  of  a  fragrant  orange-tree 
in  blossom — and  the  sparkling  drops  of  a 
neighboring  fountain,  the  gentle  plash  of 
which  is  faintly  audible  amid  the  hum  of 
the  drone-bee — let  such  be  the  agremens 
without — while  within,  let  the  more  sub- 
stantial joys  of  the  table  await,  in  such 
guise  as  only  a  French  cuisine  can  present 
them — give  me  these,  I  say,  and  I  shall 
never  sigh  for  the  far-famed  and  long-de- 
plored comforts  of  a  box  in  a  coffee-room, 
like  a  pew  in  a  parish  church,  though  cer- 
tainly not  so  well  cushioned,  and  fully  a> 
dull,  with  a  hot  waiter  and  a  cold  beefsteak 
— the  only  thing  higher  than  your  game 
being  your  bill,  and  the  only  thing  less 
drinkable  than  your  port  being  the  porter. 
With  such  exotic  notions,  imagine,  my 
dear  reader,  whether  or  not  I  felt  happy 
as  I  found  myself  seated  between  my  twe 
fair  friends  doing  the  honors  of  a  little 
supper,  and  assisting  the  exhilaration  of 
our  champagne  by  such  efforts  of  wit  as. 
under  favorable  circumstances  like  these. 
are  ever  successful — and  which,  being  like 
the  foaming  liquid  which  washes  then; 
down,  to  be  swallowed  without  waiting, 
are  ever  esteemed  good,  from  the  excite- 
ment that  results,  and  never  seriously  can- 
vassed for  any  more  sterling  merit.  Noth- 
ing ever  makes  a  man  so  agreeable  as  the 
belief  that  he  is  so  ;  and  certainly  my  fair 
companions  appeared  to  have  the  most  ex- 
cellent idea  of  my  powers  in  that  re- 
spect ;  and  I  fancy  "that  I  made  more  bon-~ 
mots,  hit  off  more  epigrams,  and  invented 
more  choice  incidents  on  that  happy  even- 
ing, than,  if  now  remembered  would  suf- 
fice to  pay  my  tailor's  bilk  when  collated 
for  Bentley's  "Miscellany,  and  illustrated 
by  Cruikshank.  Alas  !  that,  like  the  good 
liquor  that  seasoned  them,  both  are  gone 
by,  and  I  am  left  but  to  chronicle  the 
memory  of  the  fun  in  dulness,  and  coun- 
terfeit 'the  effervescence  of  the  grape-juice 
by  soda-water.  One  thing,  however  is 
certain— we  formed  a  most  agreeable  party ; 
and  if  a  feeling  of  gloom  ever  moment- 


114 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


arily  shot  through  my  mind,  it  was,  that 
evenings  like  these  came  so  rarely  in  this 
work-a-day  world,  that  each  such  should 
he  looked  on  as  our  hist. 

It  I  had  not  already  shown  myself  up 
to  my  readers  as  a  weathercock  of  the  first 
water,  perhaps  I  should  now  hesitate  about 
confessing  that  [half  regretted  the  short 
space  (luring  which  it  should  be  my  privi- 
lege to  act  as  the  guide  and  mentor  of  my  | 
two  friends.  The  impetuous  haste  which 
I  he  lore  felt  necessary  to  exercise  in  reach- 
ing Paris  immediately  was  now  tempered 
by  prudent  thoughts  about  traveling  at 
night,  and  reflections  about  sun-stroke  by 
day  ;  and  even  moments  most  devoted  to 
the  object  of  my  heart's  aspirations  were 
fettered  by  the  very  philosophic  idea  that 
it  could  never  detract  from  the  pleasure  of 
the  happiness  that  awaited  me,  if  I  travel- 
ed on  the  primrose  path  to  its  attainment. 
I  argued  thus  :  if  Lady  Jane  be  true— if — 
if.  in  a  word,  1  am  destined  to  have  any 
success  in  the  Gallon! >y  family,  then  will 
a  day  or  two  more  not  risk  it.  My  present 
friends  I  shall,  of  course,  take  leave  of  at 
Paris,  where  their  own  acquaintances  await 
them  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  should  I 
be  doomed  once  more  to  disappointment, 
I  am  equally  certain  I  should  feel  no  dis- 
position to  form  a  new  attachment.  Thus 
did  I  reason,  and  thus  I  believed  ;  and 
though  I  was  a  kind  of  "consultation 
opinion  "  among  my  friends  in  "suits  of 
love,"  I  was  really  then  unaware  that  at  no 
time  is  a  man  so  prone  to  fall  in  love  as 
immediately  after  his  being  jilted.  If 
common  sense  will  teach  us  not  to  dance  a 
bolero  upon  a  sprained  ankle,  so  might  it 
also  convey  the  equally  important  lesson, 
not  to  expose  our  more  vital  and  inflam- 
matory organ  to  the  fire  the  day  after  its 
being  singed. 

Reflections  like  these  did  not  occur  to 
me  at  this  moment  ;  besides  that  I  was 
"going  the  pace  "  with  a  forty-horse  pow- 
er of  agreeability  that  left  me  little  time 
for  thought  —  least  of  all,  of  serious 
thought.  80  stood  matters.  I  had  just 
filled  our  tall,  slender  glasses  with  the 
creaming  and  "sparkling  "  source  of  wit 
and  inspiration,  when  the  loud,  crack, 
crack,  crack  of  a  postilion's  whip,' accom- 
panied by  the  shaking  trot  of  a  heavy 
team,  and  the  roll  of  wheels,  announced  a 
new  arrival. 

"  Here  they  come,"  said  I  ;  "  only  look 
at  them — four  horses  and  one  postilion,  all 
apparently  straggling  and  straying  after 
their  own  fancy,  but  yet  going  surprisingly 
straight,  notwithstanding.  See  how  they 
come   through    that   narrow    archway — it 


might    puzzle   the   best    four-in-hand    in 
England  to  do  it  better." 

••  What  a  handsome  young  man,  if  he 
had  not  those  odious  mustachios.  Why, 
Mr.  Lorrequer.  he  knows  you  :  see,  he  is 
bowing  to  you." 

"Me!  Oh  !  no.  Why,  surely,  it  must 
be — the  devil — it  is  Kilkcc,  Lady  .Jane's 
brother!  I  know  his  temper  well.  One 
five  minutes'  observation  of  my  present 
intimacy  with  my  fair  friends,  and  adieu 
to  all  hopes  for  me  of  calling  Lonl  Callon- 
my  father-in-law.  There  is  not,  there- 
fore, a  moment  to  lose." 

As  these  thoughts  revolved  through  my 
mind,  the  confusion  I  felt  had  covered  my 
face  with  scarlet,  and,  with  a  species  of 
blundering  apology  for  abruptly  leaving 
them  for  a  moment,  I  ran  downstairs  only 
in  time  sufficient  to  anticipate  Kilkee's 
questions  as  to  the  number  of  my  apart- 
ment, to  which  he  was  desirous  of  proceed- 
ing at  once.  Our  first  greetings  over,  Kil- 
kee  questioned  me  as  to  my  route,  adding, 
that  his  now  was  necessarily  an  undecided 
one.  for,  if  his  family  happened  not  to  be 
at  Paris,  he  should  be  obliged  to  seek  after 
them  among  the  German  watering-places. 
"In  any  Case,  Lorrequer,"  said  he,  "we 
shall  hunt  them  in  couples.  I  must  insist 
upon  your  coming  along  with  me." 

"Oh!  that,"  said  I,  "you  must  not 
think  of.  Your  carriage  is  a  coupe,  and 
I  cannot  think  of  crowding  you." 

"  Why,  you  don't  seriously  wish  to  af- 
front me,  I  hope  ;  for  I  flatter  myself  that 
a  more  perfect  carriage  for  two  people  can- 
not be  built.  Hobson  made  it  on  a  plan 
of  my  own,  and  I  am  excessively  proud  of 
it,  I  assure  you.  Come,  that  matter  is 
decided — now  for  supper.  Are  there  many 
English  here  just  now  ?  By-the-by,  the 
ladies  I  think  I  saw  you  standing  with  on 
the  balcony — who  are  they  ?" 

"Oh!  the  ladies — oh*!  yes,  people  I 
came  over  with " 

"  One  was  pretty,  I  fancied.  Have  yon 
supped  ?  Just  order  something,  will  you; 
meanwhile,  I  shall  write  a  few  lines  before 
the  post  leaves."  Saying  which,  he  dashed 
upstairs  after  the  waiter,  and  left  me  to 
my  meditations. 

"  This  begins  to  be  pleasant,"  thought 
I,  as  the  door  closed,  leaving  me  alone  in 
the  salon.  In  circumstances  of  such  mo- 
ment I  had  never  felt  so  nonplussed  as 
now,  how  to  decline  Kilkee's  invitation, 
without  discovering  my  intimacy  with  the 
Binghams — and  yet  I  could  not,  by  any  pos- 
sibility, desert  them  thus  abruptly.  Such 
was  the  dilemma.  "I  see  but  one  thing 
for    it,"     said    I,    gloomily,    as   I   strode 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


115 


through  the  coffee-room,  with  my  head 
sunk,  and  my  hands  behind  my  back — "  I 
see  but  one  thing  left — I  must  be  taken  ill 
to-night,  and  not  be  able  to  leave  my  bed 
in  the  morning — a  fever — a  contagious 
fever — blue  and  red  spots  all  over  me — 
and  be  raving  wildly  before  breakfast- 
time  ;  and  if  ever  any  discovery  takes 
place  of  my  intimacy  above  stairs,  I  must 
only  establish  it  as  a  premonitory  symp- 
tom of  insanity,  which  seized  me  in  the 
packet.  And  now  for  a  doctor  that  will 
understand  my  case,  and  listen  to  reason, 
as  they  would  call  it  in  Ireland."  With 
this  idea  uppermost,  I  walked  out  into  the 
court-yard  to  look  for  a  commissionnaire  to 
guide  me  in  my  search.  Around  on  every 
side  of  me  stood  the  various  carriages  and 
vehicles  of  the  hotel  and  its  inmates,  to 
the  full  as  distinctive  and  peculiar  in 
character  as  their  owners.  "Ah  !  there 
is  Kilkee's,"  said  I,  as  my  eye  lighted  up- 
on the  well-balanced  and  elegant  little 
carriage  which  he  had  been  only  with  jus- 
tice encomimizing.  "It  is  certainly  per- 
fect, and  yet  I'd  give  a  handful  of  louis 
d'or  if  it  was  like  that  venerable  cabriolet 
yonder,  with  the  one  wheel  and  no  shafts. 
But,  alas  !  those  springs  give  little  hope  of 
a  break-down,  and  that  confounded  axle 
will  outlive  the  patentee.  But  still,  can 
nothing  be  done — eh  ?  Come,  the  thought 
is  a  good  one.  I  say,  garcon,  who  greases 
the  wheels  of  the  carriages  here  ?  " 

"  Vest  moi,  monsieur,"  said  a  great  oaf, 
in  wooden  shoes  and  a  blouse. 

"  Well,  then,  do  you  understand  these  ?  " 
said  I,  touching  the  patent  axle-boxes  with 
my  cane. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  Then  who  does  here  ?  " 

"Ah!  Michel  understands  them  per- 
fectly." 

"Then  bring  him  here,"  said  I. 

In  a  few  minutes  a  little,  shrewd  old 
fellow,  with  a  smith's  apron,  made  his 
appearance,  and  introduced  himself  as  M. 
Michel.  I  had  not  much  difficulty  in 
making  him  master  of  my  plan,  which 
was,  to  detach  one  of  the  wheels,  as  if  for 
the  purpose  of  oiling  the  axle,  and  after- 
wards render  it  incapable  of  being  re- 
placed— at  least  for  twenty -four  hours. 

"This  is  my  idea,"  said  I;  "neverthe- 
less, do  not  be  influenced  by  me.  All  I 
ask  is,  disable  the  carriage  from  proceeding 
to-morrow,  and  here  are  three  louis  d'or  at 
your  service." 

"  Soyez  Men  tranquille,  monsieur  ;  mi- 
lor  shall  spend  to-morrow  in  Calais  if  I 
Vnow  anything  of  my  art."    Saying  which, 

/  set  out  in  search  of  his  tools,  while  I 


returned  to  the  salon  with  my  mind  re- 
lieved, and  fully  prepared  to  press  the  ur- 
gency of  my  reaching  Paris  without  any 
delay. 

"Well,  Lorrequer,"  said  Kilkee,  aa  i 
entered,  "here  is  supper  waiting,  and  I  am 
as  hungry  as  a  wolf." 

"  Oh  !  I  beg  pardon — I've  been  getting 
everything  in  readiness  for  our  start  to- 
morrow morning,  for  I  have  not  told  you 
how  anxious  I  am  to  get  to  Paris  before 
the  8th — some  family  business,  which  re- 
quires my  looking  after,  compelling  me  to 
do  so." 

"  As  to  that,  let  your  mind  be  at  rest, 
for  1  shall  travel  to-morrow  night  if  you 
prefer  it.  Now  for  the  Volnay.  Why,  you 
are  not  drinking  your  wine.  What  do  you 
say  to  our  paying  our  respects  to  the  fair 
ladies  above  stairs  ?  I  am  sure  the  atten- 
tions you  have  practised  coming  over  would 
permit  the  liberty." 

"Oh,  hang  it,  no  !  There's  neither  of 
them  pretty,  and  I  should  rather  avoid  the 
risk  of  making  a  regular  acquaintance  with 
them,"  said  I. 

"As  you  like,  then — only,  as  you'll  not 
take  any  wine,  let  us  have  a  stroll  through 
the  town." 

After  a  short  ramble  through  the  town, 
in  which  Kilkee  talked  the  entire  time, 
but  of  what  I  know  not,  my  thoughts 
being  upon  my  own  immediate  concerns, 
we  returned  to  the  hotel.  As  we  entered 
the  porte-cochere,  my  friend  Michel  passed 
me,  and  as  he  took  off  his  hat  in  saluta- 
tion, gave  me  one  rapid  glance  of  his 
knowing  eye,  that  completely  satisfied  me 
that  Hobson's  pride  in  my  friend's  car- 
riage had  by  that  time  received  quite 
sufficient  provocation  to  throw  him  into 
an  apoplexy. 

"By  the  bye,"  said  I,  ''let  us  see  your 
carriage.  I  am  curious  to  look  at  it," — 
(and  so  I  was). 

"  Well,  then,  come  along  this  way  ;  they 
have  placed  it  under  some  of  these  sheds, 
which  they  think  coach-houses." 

I  followed  my  friend  through  the  court 
till  we  arrived  near  the  fatal  spot ;  but 
before  reaching  he  had  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  mischief,  and  shouted  out  a  most 
awful  imprecation  upon  the  author  of  the 
deed  which  met  his  eye.  The  forewheel 
of  the  coupe  had  been  taken  from  the  axle, 
and  in  the  difficulty  of  so  doing,  from  the 
excellence  of  the  wormanship,  two  of  the 
spokes  were  broken,  the  patent  box  was  a 
mass  of  rent  metal,  and  the  end  of  the 
axle  turned  downwards  like  a  hoe. 

I  cannot  convey  any  idea  of  poor  Kil- 
kee's distraction  ;  and,  in  reality,  my  own 


JjG 


CHABL  ES  LE  VERS  1 1  ORES. 


wa6  little  short  of  it ;  for  the  wretch  had 
so  Ear  outstripped  my  orders  that  I  be- 
came horrified  at  the  cruel  destruction 
before  me.  We  both,  therefore,  stormed 
in  the  most  imposing  English  and  French, 
lirst  separately  and  then  together.  We 
offered  a  reward  for  the  apprehension  of 
the  culprit,  whom  no  one  appeared  to 
know,  although,  as  it  happened,  every  one 
in  ;i  large  household  was  aware  of  the 
transaction  but  the  proprietor  himself. 
We  abused  all — innkeeper,  waiters,  ost- 
lers, and  chambermaids,  collectively  and 
individually:  condemned  Calais  as  a  den 
of  iniquity,  and  branded  all  Frenchmen  as 
rogues  and  vagabonds.  This  seemed  to 
alleviate  considerably  my  friend's  grief. 
and  excite  my  thirst — fortunately,  per- 
haps, for  ns.  for  if  our  eloquence  had  held 
our  much  longer  I  am  afraid  our  auditory 
might  have  lost  their  patience  ;  and,  in- 
deed. I  am  quite  certain,  if  our  French 
iiad  not  been  in  nearly  as  disjointed  a 
condition  as  the  spokes  of  the  caleche, 
such  must  have  been  the  case. 

"  Well.  Lorrequer,  1  suppose,  then,  we 
are  not  destined  to  be  fellow-travelers — for 
if  you  must  go  to-morrow -" 

"Alas  !  it  is  imperative,"'  said  1. 

"  Then,  in  any  case,  let  us  arrange  where 
we  shall  meet,  for  I  hope  to  be  in  Paris  the 
day  after  you. " 

ki  I'll  stop  at  Meurice's." 

"  Meurice's  be  it,"  said  he  ;  ''so  now 
good  night,  till  we  meet  in  Paris." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


THE    GENDARME. 


I  HAD  fortunately  sufficient  influence 
upon  my  fair  friends  to  persuade  them  to 
leave  Calais  early  on  the  morning  follow- 
ing ;  and  two  hours  before  Kilkee  had 
opened  his  eyes  upon  this  mortal  life  we 
were  far  upon  the  road  to  Paris. 

Having  thus  far  perfectly  succeeded  in  my 
plot,  my  spirit  rose  rapidly,  and  I  made 
every  exertion  to  make  the  road  appear 
short  to  my  fellow-travelers.  This  part  of 
France  is  unfortunately  deficient  in  any 
interest  from  scenery  ;  large  undivided 
tracts  of  waving  corn-fields,  with  a  back- 
ground of  apparently  interminable  forests, 
and  occasionally,  but  rarely,  the  glimpse 
of  some  old  time-worn  chateau,  with  its 
pointed  gable  and  terraced  walk,  are  nearly 
all  that  the  eye  can  detect  in  the  intervals 
between  the  small  towns  and  villages. 
Nothing,  however,   is    "Hat   or   unprofit- 


able*' to  those  who  desire  to  make  it  oth 
erwise  ;  good  health,  good  spirits,  and  fine 
weather  are  wonderful  traveling  compan- 
ions, and  render  one  tolerably  independent 
of  the  charms  of  scenery.  Every  mile  that 
separated  me  from  Calais,  and  took  away 
the  chance  of  being  overtaken,  added  to 
my  gaiety,  and  1  Hatter  myself  that  a  hap 
pier  party  have  rarely  traveled  that  well- 
frequented  road. 

VVe  reached  Abbeville  to  dinner,  and  ad 
journed  to  the  beautiful  little  garden  of 
the  inn  for  our  coffee  :  the  evening  was  so 
delightful  that  I  proposed  to  walk  on  the 
Paris  road,  until  the  coming  up  of  the  car- 
riage, which  required  a  screw,  or  a  washer, 
or  some  such  trifle  as  always  occurs  in 
French  posting  To  this  •'mamma"  ob- 
jected, she  being  tired,  but  added,  that  Is- 
abella and  1  might  go  on,  and  that  she 
would  take  us  up  in  half  an  hour.  This 
was  an  arrangement  so  very  agreeable  and 
unlooked  for  by  me,  that  I  pressed  Miss 
Bingham  as  far  as  I  well  could,  and  at  last 
succeeded  in  overcoming  her  scruples,  and 
permitting  me  to  shawl  her.  One  has  al- 
ways a  tremendous  power  of  persuasion 
with  the  uninitiated  abroad,  by  a  refer- 
ence to  a  standard  of  manners  and  habits 
totally  different  from  our  own.  Thus  the 
talismanic  words :  "  Oh,  don't  be  shocked  ; 
remember  you  are  in  France.'"  did  more  to 
satisfy  my  young  friend's  mind  than  all  I 
could  have  said  for  an  hour.  Little  did 
she  know  that  in  England  only  has  an  un- 
married young  lady  any  liberty,  and  that 
the  standard  of  foreign  propriety  on  this. 
head  is  far,  very  far,  more  rigid  than  our 
own. 

"  La  premiere  rue  a  gauche,"  said  an  old 
man  of  whom  I  inquired  the  road.  "  Et 
puis,"  added  I. 

"And  then  quite  straight;  it  is  a  cJiaussee 
all  the  way,  and  you  can  not  mistake  it." 

"Now  for  it,  mademoiselle,"  said  I. 
"  Let  us  try  if  we  cannot  see  a  good  deal 
of  the  country  before  the  carriage  comes 
up." 

We  had  soon  left  the  town  behind,  and 
reached  a  beautifully  shaded  high  road, 
with  blossoming  fruit-trees,  and  honey- 
suckle-covered cottages  ;  there  had  been 
several  light  showers  during  the  day,  and 
the  air  had  all  the  fresh,  fragrant  feeling 
of  an  autumn  evening,  so  tranquilizing 
and  calming  that  few  there  are  who  have 
not  felt,  at  some  time  or  other  of  their 
lives,  its  influence  upon  their  minds.  I 
fancied  my  fair  companion  did  so,  for, 
as  she  walked  beside  me,  her  silence,  and 
the  gentle  pressure  of  her  arm,  were  far 
more  eloquent  than  words. 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


11? 


If  that  extraordinary  flutter  and  flurry 
of  sensations  which  will  now  and  then  seize 
you,  when  walking  upon  a  lonely  coun- 
try road  with  a  pretty  girl  for  your  com- 
panion, whose  arm  is  linked  in  yours,  and 
whose  thoughts,  as  far  as  you  can  guess, 
at  least,  are  traveling  the  same  path  with 
your  own — if  this  be  animal  magnetism,  or 
one  of  its  phenomena,  then  do  1  swear  by 
Mesmer  !  whatever  it  be,  delusion  or  oth- 
erwise, it  has  given  me  the  brightest 
moments  of  my  life — these  are  the  real 
"  winged  dreams''  of  pleasures  which  out- 
live others  of  more  absorbing  and  actual 
interest  at  the  time.  After  all,  for  how 
many  of  our  happiest  feelings  are  we  in- 
debted to  the  weakness  of  our  nature. 
The  man  that  is  wise  at  nineteen,  je  lui  en 
fais  mon  compliment,  but  I  assuredly  do 
not  envy  him  ;  and  now,  even  now,  when 
I  number  more  years  than  I  should  like  to 
"  confess,"  rather  than  suffer  the  suspi- 
cious watchfulness  of  age  to  creep  on  me,  I 
prefer- to  "go  on  believing,"  even  though 
every  hour  of  the  day  should  show  me 
duped  and  deceived.  While  I  plead  guilty 
to  this  impeachment,  let  me  show,  in  miti- 
gation, that  it  has  its  enjoyments — first, 
although  I  am  the  most  constant  and  de- 
voted man  breathing,  as  a  very  cursory 
glance  at  those  "  Confessions"  may  prove, 
yet  I  have  never  been  able  to  restrain  my- 
self from  a  propensity  to  make  love  merely 
as  a  pastime.  The  gambler  that  sits  down 
to  play  cards,  or  dice,  against  himself,  may 
perhaps  be  the  only  person  that  can  com- 
prehend this  tendency  of  mine.  We  both 
of  us  are  playing  for  nothing  (or  love, 
which  I  suppose  is  synonymous)  ;  we  nei- 
ther of  us  put  forth  our  strength  ;  for  that 
very  reason — and  in  fact,  like  the  waiter 
at  Vauxhall,  who  was  complimented  upon 
the  dexterity  with  which  he  poured  out 
the  lemonade,  and  confessed  that  he  spent 
his  mornings  "practising  with  vater, " — 
we  pass  a  considerable  portion  of  our  lives 
in  a  mimic  warfare,  which,  if  it  seem  un- 
profitable, is,  nevertheless,  pleasant. 

After  all  this  long  tirade,  need  I  say 
how  our  walk  proceeded  ?  We  had  fallen 
into  a  kind  of  discussion  upon  the  singular 
intimacy  which  had  so  rapidly  grown  up 
between  us,  and  which  years  long  might 
have  failed  to  engender.  We  attempted 
also  to  analyze  the* reasons  for,  and  the 
nature  of,  the  friendship  thus  so  suddenly 
established — a  rather  dangerous  and  diffi- 
cult topic,  when  the  parties  were  both 
young — one  eminently  handsome,  and  the 
other  disposed  to  be  most  agreeable.  Oh, 
my  dear  young  friends  of  either  sex,  what- 
ever your  feelings  be  for  one  another,  keep 


them  to  yourselves  :  I  know  of  nothing 
half  so  hazardous  as  that  "comparing  of 
notes"  which  sometimes  happens.  Anal- 
ysis is  a  beautiful  thing  in  mathematics 
or  chemistry,  but  it  makes  sail  havoc  when 
applied  to  the  "  functions  of  the  heart." 

"Mamma  appears  to  have  forgotten 
us,"  said  Isabella,  as  she  spoke,  after  walk- 
ing for  some  time  in  silence  beside  me. 

"  Oli.  depend  upon  it,  the  carriage  has 
taken  all  this  time  to  repair;  but  are  vou 
tired  ?  " 

"  Oh,  by  no  means  ;  the  evening  is  de- 
lightful, but " 

''Then,  perhaps  you  are  ennuyee"  said 
I,  half  pettishly,  to  provoke  a  disclaimer, 
if  possible.  To  this  insidiously  put  quere 
I  received,  as  I  deserved,  no  answer,  and 
again  Ave   sauntered  on  without  speaking. 

"To  whom  does  that  chateau  belong, 
my  old  friend  ?"  said  I,  addressing  a  man 
on  the  roadside. 

"  To  Monsieur  le  marquis,  sir,"  replied 
he. 

"  But  what's  his  name,  though  ?" 

"  Ah,  that  I  can't  tell  you,"  replied  the 
man,  again. 

There  you  may  perceive  how,  even  yet, 
in  provincial  France,  the  old  respect  for 
the  aristocracy  still  survives  ;  it  is  suffi- 
cient that  the  possessor  of  that  fine  place 
is  "Monsieur  le  marquis  ;"  but  any  other 
knowledge  of  who  he  is,  and  what,  is  su- 
perfluous. "  How  far  are  we  from  the 
next  village,  do  you  know  ?"    . 

"  About  a  league." 

"Indeed.  Why,  I  thought  La  Scarpe 
was  quite  near  us." 

"Ah,  are  you  thinking  of  the  Amiens 
road." 

"  Yes,  of  course  ;  and  is  not  this  the 
Amiens  road  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  ;  the  Amiens  road  lies  beyond 
those  low  hills  to  the  right.  You  pass  the 
turn  at  the  first  bar  vie  re." 

"Is  it  possible  we  could  have  come 
wrong  ?  " 

"Oh,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  don't  say  so,  I  en- 
treat of  you." 

"And  what  road  is  this,  then,  my 
friend  ?  " 

"  This  is  the  road  to  Albert  and  Pe- 
ronne. " 

"Unfortunately,  I  believe  he  is  quite 
right.  Is  there  any  cross-road  from  the  vil- 
lage before  us  now  to  the  Amiens  road  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  you  can  reach  it  about  two 
leagues  hence." 

"  And  we  can  get  a  carriage  at  the  inn, 
probably  ?  " 

"  Ah,  that  I  am  not  sure  of.  Perhaps  at 
the  Lion  d'Or  you  may." 


;18 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


"But  why  not  go  back  to  Abbeville  ?  '* 

"Oh.  Mrs.  Bingham  must  have  left  Long 
since,  and  besides,  you  Eorgel  the  distance  : 
we  have  been  walking  two  hours." 

"Now  for  the  village,"  said  I.  as  I  drew 
my  friend's  arm  closer  within  mine,  and 
we  set  out  on  a  fast  walk. 

Isabella  seemed  terribly  frightened  at  the 
whole  affair  ;  what  her  mamma  might 
think,  and  what  might  be  her  fears  at  not 
finding  us  on  the  road,  and  a  hundred 
other  encouraging  reflections  of  this  na- 
ture, she  poured  forth  unceasingly.  As 
for  myself,  I  did  not  know  well  what  to 
think  of  it  ;  my  old  fondness  ever  for  ad- 
venture being  sufficiently  strong  in  me  to 
give  a  relish  to  anything  which  bore  the 
least  resemblance  to  one.  This  I  now  con- 
cealed, and  sympathized  with  my  fair 
friend  upon  our  mishap,  assuring  her,  at 
the  same  time,  that  there  could  be  no 
doubt  of  our  overtaking  Mrs.  Bingham  be- 
fore her  arrival  at  Amiens. 

"Ah,  there  is  the  village  in  the  valley; 
how  beautifully  situated." 

"  Oh,  I  can't  admire  anything  now,  Mr. 
Lorrequer,  I  am  so  frightened." 

"But  surely  without  cause,"  said  I, 
looking  tenderly  beneath  her  bonnet. 

"Is  this,"  she  answered,  "nothing?" 
And  we  walked  on  in  silence  again. 

On  reaching  the  Lion  d'Or  we  discov- 
ered that  the  only  conveyance  to  be  had 
was  a  species  of  open  market-cart  drawn 
by  two  horses,  and  in  which  it  was  neces- 
sary that  my  fair  friend  and  myself  should 
seat  ourselves  side  by  side  upon  straw  : 
there  was  no  choice;  and  as  for  Miss  Bing- 
ham, I  believe,  if  an  ass  with  panniers  had 
presented  itself,  she  would  have  preferred 
it  to  remaining  where  she  was.  "We,  there- 
fore, took  our  places,  and  she  could  not 
refrain  from  laughing  as  we  set  out  upon 
our  journey  in  this  absurd  equipage,  every 
jolt  of  which  threw  us  from  side  to  side, 
and  rendered  every  attention  on  my  part 
requisite  to  prevent  her  being  upset. 

After  about  two  hours'  traveling  we  ar- 
rived at  the  Amiens  road,  and  stopped  at 
the  barriere.  I  immediately  inquired  if  a 
carriage  had  passed,  resembling  Mrs.  Bing- 
ham's, and  learned  that  it  had,  about  an 
hour  before,  and  that  the  lady  in  it  had 
been  informed  that  two  persons,  like  those 
she  asked  after,  had  been  seen  in  a  caliche, 
driving  rapidly  to  Amiens,  upon  which  she 
set  out  as  fast  as  possible  in  pursuit. 

"  Certainly,"  said  I,  "  the  plot  is  thick- 
ening ;  but  for  that  unlucky  mistake,  she 
might  in  all  probability  have  waited  here 
for  us.  Amiens  is  only  two  leagues  now, 
so  our  drive  will  not  be  long,  and  before 


six  o'clock  we  shall  all  be  laughing  over  the 
matter  as  a  ver\  good  joke." 

On  we  rattled,  and  as  the  road  became 
less  frequented,  and  the  shadows  length- 
ened. I  could  not  but  woiiderat  thestrange 
situations  which  the  adventurous  character 
of  my  life  had  so  often  involved  me  in." 
Meanwhile,  my  fair  friend's  spirits  became 
more  and  more  depressed,  and  it  was  not 
without  the  greatest  difficulty  I  was  en- 
abled to  support  her  courage.  I  assured 
her,  and  not  altogether  without  reason, that 
though  so  often  in  my  eventful  career  ac- 
cidents were  occurring  which  rendered  it 
dubious  and  difficult  to  reach  the  goal  I 
aimed  at.  yet  the  results  had  so  often  been 
more  pleasant  than  I  could  have  antici- 
pated, that  I  always  felt  a  kind  of  involun- 
tary satisfaction  at  some  apparent  obstacle 
to  my  path,  setting  it  down  as  some  espe- 
cial means  of  fortune,  to  heighten  the 
pleasure  awaiting  me  ;  "  and  now,"  added 
I,  "even  here,  perhaps,  in  this  very  mis- 
take of  our  road — the  sentiments  I- have 
heard — the  feelings  I  have  given  utterance 

to "    What  I  was  about  to  say,  Heaven 

knows — perhaps  nothing  less  than  a  down- 
right proposal  was  coming,  but  at  that 
critical  moment  a  gendarme  rode  up  to  the 
side  of  our  wagon,  and  surveyed  us  with 
the  peculiarly  significant  scowl  his  order  is 
gifted  with.  After  trotting  alongside  for 
a  few  seconds,  he  ordered  the  driver  to  halt, 
and,  turning  abruptly  to  us,  demanded 
our  passports.  Now  our  passports  were,  at 
that  precise  moment,  peaceably  reposing 
in  the  side-pocket  of  Mrs.  Bingham's  car- 
riage ;  I,  therefore,  explained  to  the  gen- 
darme how  w.e  were  circumstanced,  and 
added,  that  on  arriving  at  Amiens  the 
passports  should  be  produced.  To  this  he 
replied  that  all  might  be  perfectly  true. 
but  he  did  not  believe  a  word  of  it — that 
he  had  received  an  order  for  the  apprehen- 
sion of  two  English  persons  traveling  that 
road — and  that  he  should  accordingly  re- 
quest our  company  back  to  Chantraine, 
the  commissaire  of  which  place  was  his 
officer. 

"  But  why  not  take  us  to  Amiens,"  said 
I;  "particularly  when  I  tell  you  that  we 
can  then  show  our  passports  ?  " 

"I  belong  to  the  Chantraine  district," 
was  the  laconic  answer  ;  and  like  the  gen- 
tleman who  could  not 'weep  at  the  sermon 
because  he  belonged  to  another  parish,  this 
specimen  of  a  French  Dogberry  would  not 
hear  reason  except  in  his  own  district. 

No  arguments  which  I  could  think  of  had 
any  effect  upon  him,  and  amid  a  volley  of 
entreaty  and  imprecation,  both  equally 
vain,  Ave  saw  ourselves  turn  back  upon  the 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


119 


road  to  Amiens,  and  set  ont  at  a  round  trot 
to  Chantraine,  on  the  road  to  Calais. 

Poor  Isabella,  [  really  pitied  her:  hith- 
erto her  courage  had  been  principally  sus- 
tained by  the  prospect  of  soon  reaching 
Amiens  :  now  there  was  no  seeing  where 
our  adventure  was  to  end.  Besides  that, 
actual  fatigue  from  the  wretched  convey- 
ance began  to  distress  her,  and  she  was 
scarcely  able  to  support  herself,  though  as- 
sisted by  my  arm.  What  a  perilous  posi- 
tion mine,  whispering  consolation  and  com- 
fort to  a  pretty  girl  on  a  lonely  road,  the 
only  person  near  being  one  who  compre- 
hended nothing  of  the  language  we  spoke 
in.  Ah,  how  little  do  we  know  of  fate, 
and  how  of  ten  do  we  despise  circumstances 
that  determine  all  our  fortunes  in  the 
world  !  To  think  that  a  gendarme  should 
have  anything  to  do  with  my  future  lot  in 
life,  and  that  the  real  want  of  a  passport 
to  travel  should  involve  the  probable  want 
of  a  license  to  marry.  "Yes,  it  is  quite  in 
keeping,"  thought  I,  "with  every  step  I 
have  taken  through  life.  I  may  be  brought 
before  the  '  raaire '  as  a  culprit,  and  leave 
him  as  a  Benedict." 

On  reaching  the  town,  we  were  not  per- 
mitted to  drive  to  the  inn,  but  at  once  con- 
veyed to  the  house  of  the  "  commissaire," 
who  was  also  the  "  maire  "  of  the  district. 
The  worthy  functionary  was  long  since  in 
bed,  and  it  was  only  after  ringing  violent- 
ly for  half  an  hour  that  a  head,  surmount- 
ed with  a  dirty  cotton  nightcap,  peeped 
from  an  upper  window,  and  seemed  to 
survey  the  assemblage  beneath  with  patient 
attention.  By  this  time  a  considerable 
crowd  had  collected  from  the  neighboring- 
ale-houses  and  cabarets,  who  deemed  it  a 
most  fitting  occasion  to  honor  us  with  the 
most  infernal  yells  and  shouts,  as  indicat- 
ing .their  love  of  justice  and  delight  in  de- 
tecting knavery  ;  and  that  Ave  were  both 
involved  in  such  suspicion  we  had  not  long 
to  learn.  Meanwhile,  the  poor  old  maire, 
who  had  been  an  employe  in  the  stormy 
days  of  the  Revolution,  and  also  under  Na- 
poleon, and  who  fully  concurred  with 
Swift  that  "'a  crowd  is  a  mob,  if  compos- 
ed even  of  bishops,"  firmly  believed  that 
the  uproar  beneath  in  the  street  was  the 
announcement  of  a  new  change  of  affairs 
at  Paris,  determined  to  be  early  in  the 
field,  and  shouted,  therefore,  with  all  his 
lungs — "  Vive  la  nation! — Vive  la  charte  ! 
— Abas  les  autres !  "  A  tremendous  shout 
of  laughter  saluted  this  exhibition  of  un- 
expected republicanism,  and  the  poor 
maire  retired  from  the  window,  having 
learned  his  mistake,  covered  with  shame 
and  confusion. 


Before  the  mirth  caused  by  this  blunder 
had  subsided,  the  door  had  opened,  and  we 
were  ushered  into  the  bureau,  accompanied 

by  the  anxious  crowd,  all  curious  to  know 
the  particulars  of  our  crime. 

The  maire  soon  appeared,  his  nightcap 
being  replaced  by  a  small  black  velvel 
skull-cap.  and  his  lanky  figure  enveloped 
in  a  tarnished  silk  dressing-gown  !  he  per- 
mitted us  to  be  seated,  while  the  gendarme 
recounted  the  suspicious  circumstances  of 
our  traveling,  and  produced  the  order  to 
arrest  an  Englishman  and  his  wife  who  had 
arrived  in  one  of  the  late  Boulogne  packets, 
and  who  had  carried  off  from  some  bank- 
ing-house money  and  bills  to  a  large 
amount. 

"I  have  no  doubt  these  are  the  people." 
said  the  gendarme  ;  "  and  here  is  the  '  carl  e 
descriptive.'  Let  us  compare  it :  'Forty- 
two  or  forty-three  years  of  age.'" 

"I  trust,  Monsieur  le  maire."  said  I, 
overhearing  this,  "  that  ladies  do  not  rec- 
ognize me  as  so  much." 

"'Of  a  pale  and  cadaverous  aspect,"' 
continued  the  gendarme. 

•'Civil  and  complimentary,  certainly," 
added  I. 

"  '  Squints  much  with  the  left  eye.'  Look 
at  Monsieur  le  maire,  if  you  please,  sir," 
said  the  gendarme. 

Upon  this  the  old  functionary,  wiping 
his  spectacles  with  a  snuffy  handkerchief, 
as  if  preparing  them  to  examine  an  eclipse 
of  the  sun,  regarded  me  fixedly  for  several 
minutes,  and  said,  "  Oh,  yes,  I  perceive  it 
plainly  :  continue  the  description." 

"•Five  feet  three  inches,'"  said  the 
gendarme. 

"Six  feet  one  in  England,  whatever  this 
climate  may  have  done  since." 

"  '  Speaks  broken  and  bad  French.'  " 

"Like  a  native,"  said  I  .  "at  least,  so 
said  my  friends  in  the  Chaussee  d'Antin, 
in  the  year  fifteen." 

Here  the  catalogue  ended,  and  a  short 
conference  between  the  maire  and  the  gen- 
darme ensued,  which  ended  in  our  being 
committed  for  examination  on  the  mor- 
row ;  meanwhile,  we  were  to  remain  at  the 
inn,  under  the  surveillance  of  the  gen- 
darme. 

On  reaching  the  inn,  my  poor  friend 
was  so  completely  exhausted,  that  she  at 
once  retired  to  her  room,  and  I  proceeded 
to  fulfil  a  promise  I  had  made  her  to  dis- 
patch a  note  to  Mrs.  Bingham  at  Amiens 
by  a  special  messenger,  acquainting  her 
with  all  our  mishaps,  and  requesting  her 
to  come  or  send  to  our  assistance.  This 
done,  and  a  good  supper  smoking  before 
me.  of  which   with   difficulrv  I  persuaded 


120 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


Isabella  to  partake  in  her  own  room.  I 
again  regained  my  equanimity,  and  felt 
once  more  at  ease. 

The  gendarme  in  whose  guardianship  I 
had  been  left  was  a  fine  specimen  of  his 
caste  :  a  large  and  powerfully  buill  man  of 
about  fifty,  with  an  enormous  heard  of 
grizzly  brown  and  gray  hair,  meeting  above 
and  beneath  his  nether  lip;  his  eyebrows 
were  heavy  and  beetling,  and  nearly  con- 
cealed his  sharp  gray  eyes,  while  a  deep 
sabre-wound  had  left  upon  his  cheek  a 
long  white  scar,  giving  a  most  warlike  and 
ferocious  look  to  his  features. 

As  he  sat  apart  from  me  for  some  time, 
silent  and  motionless,  I  could  not  help 
imagining  in  how  many  a  bard-fought  day 
he  had  borne  a  part,  for  he  evidently,  from 
his  age  and  bearing,  bad  been  one  of  the 
soldiers  of  the  Empire.  1  invited  him  to 
partake  of  my  bottle  of  Medoc,  by  which 
he  seemed  flattered.  .  When  the  flask  be- 
came low,  and  was  replaced  by  another,  he 
appeared  to  have  lost  much  of  his  constrain- 
ed air.  and  seemed  forgetting  rapidly  the  sus- 
picious circumstances  which  he  supposed 
attached  to  me,  waxed  wondrous  confiden- 
tial and  communicative,  condescending  to 
impart  some  traits  of  a  life  which  was  not 
without  its  vicissitudes,  for  he  had  been, 
as  I  suspected,  one  of  the  "Garde" — the 
old  Garde — was  wounded  at  Marengo,  and 
received  his  decoration  in  the  field  of  Wa- 
gram  from  the  hands  of  the  Emperor  him- 
self. The  headlong  enthusiasm  of  attach- 
ment to  Napoleon  which  his  brief  and 
stormy  career  elicited,  even  from  those 
who  suffered  long  and  deeply  in  his  behalf, 
is  not  one  of  the  least  singular  circumstan- 
ces which  this  portion  of  history  displays. 
While  the  rigors  of  the  conscription  had 
invaded  every  family  in  France,  from  Nor- 
mandy to  La  Vendee — while  the  untilled 
fields,  the  ruined  granaries,  the  half-de- 
serted villages,  all  attested  the  depopula- 
tion of  the  land,  those  talismanic  words, 
VMmpereur  et  la  Qloire,  by  some  magic 
mechanism  seemed  all-sufficient  not  only 
to  repress  regret  and  suffering,  but  even 
stimulate  pride  and  nourish  valor ;  and 
even  yet,  Avhen  it  might  be  supposed  that 
like  the  brilliant  spectacle  of  a  magic  lan- 
tern, the  gaudy  pageant  had  passed  away, 
leaving  only  the  darkness  and  desolation 
behind  it,  the  memory  of  those  days  under 
the  Empire  survives  untarnished  and  un- 
impaired, and  every  sacrifice  of  friends  or 
fortune  is  accounted  but  little  in  the  bal- 
ance when  the  honor  of  la  belle  France 
and  the  triumphs  of  the  grande  armee  are 
weighed  against  them.  The  infatuated 
and   enthusiastic    followers   of  this  great 


man  would  seem,  in  some  respects,  to  re- 
semble the  drunkard  i:i  the  vaudeville, 
who  alleged  as  his  excuse  for  drinking, 
that  whenever  he  was  sober,  his  poverty 
disgusted  him.  "My  cabin," said  be,  "is 
a  cell,  my  wife  a  mass  of  old  rags,  my 
child  a  v  retched  object  of  misery  and  mal- 
ady. But  give  me  brandy,  let  me  only 
have  that,  and  then  my  hut  is  a  palace. 
my  wife  is  a  princess,  and  my  child  the 
very  picture  of  health  and  happiness  ;"  80 
with  these  people — intoxicated  with  the 
triumphs  of  their  nation,  tite  month  with 
victory— they  cannot  exist  in  the  horror  of 
sobriety  which  peace  necessarily  enforces; 
and  wbenevcr  the  subject  turns  in  conver- 
sation upon  the  distresses  of  the  time  or 
the  evil  prospects  of  the  country,  they  call 
out,  not  like  the  drunkard  for  brandy,  but 
in  the  same  spirit,  they  say.  "Ah,  if  yon 
would  again  see  France  flourishing  and 
happy,  let  us  once  more  have  our  croix 
d'lioinimv.  our  epaulets,  our  voluntary 
contributions,  our  Murillos,  our  Velasquez, 
our  spoils  from  Venice,  and  our  increased 
territories  to  rule  over."  This  is  the  lan- 
guage of  the  Bonapartist  everywhere  and 
at  all  seasons  ;  and  the  mass  of  the  nation 
is  wonderfully  disposed  to  participate  in 
the  sentiment.  The  Empire  was  the 
"iEneid"  of  the  nation,  and  Napoleon 
the  only  hero  they  could  believe  in.  You 
may  satisfy  yourself  of  this  easily.  Every 
cafe  will  give  evidence  of  it,  every  society 
bears  testimony  to  it,  and  even  the  most 
wretched  vaudeville,  however  trivial  the 
interest,  however  meagre  the  story  and 
poor  the  diction,  let  the  Emperor  but 
have  his  role,  let  him  be  as  laconic  as  pos- 
sible, carry  Ids  hands  behind  his  back, 
wear  the  well-known  low  cocked  hat  and 
the  redingote  grise,  the  success  is  certain, 
every  sentence  he  utters  is  applauded,  and 
not  a  single  allusion  to  the  Pyramids,  the 
sun  of  Austerlitz,  la  Gloire,  et  la  Vieille 
Garde,  but  is  sure  to  bring  down  thunders 
of  acclamation.  But  I  am  forgetting  my- 
self, and  perhaps  my  reader  too  ;  the  con- 
versation of  the  old  gendarme  accidentally 
led  me  into  reflections  like  these,  and  he 
was  well  calculated  in  many  ways  to  call 
them  forth.  His  devoted  attachment,  his 
personal  love  of  the  Emperor,  of  which  he 
gave  me  some  touching  instances,  was  ad- 
mirably illustrated  by  an  incident,  which 
I  am  inclined  to  tell,  and  hope  it  may 
amuse  the  reader  as  much  as  it  did  myself 
on  hearing  it. 

When  Napoleon  had  taken  possession  of 
the  papal  dominions,  as  he  virtually  did, 
and  carried  off  the  Pope  Pius  VI.  to  Paris, 
this  old  soldier,  then  a  musketeer  in  the 


II A  inn'  LORREQUER. 


121 


"  G-arde,"  formed  part  of  the  company 
that  mounted  guard  over  the  holy  father. 
During  the  earlier  months  of  the  holy 
father's  confinement  he  was  at  liberty  to 
leave  his  apartments  at  any  hour  he 
pleased,  and  cross  the  court-yard  of  the 
palace  to  the  chapel  where  he  performed 
mass.  At  such  momenta  the  portion  of 
the  Imperial  Guard  then  on  duly  stood 
under  arms,  and  received  from  the  august 
hand  of  the  Pope  his  benediction  as  he 
passed.  But  one  morning  a  hasty  express 
arrived  from  the  Tuileries,  and  the  officer 
on  duty  communicated  his  instructions  to 
Ids  party,  that  the  apostolic  vicar  was  not 
to  be  permitted  to  pass,  as  heretofore,  to 
the  chapel,  and  that  a  most  rigid  superin- 
tendence was  to  be  exercised  over  his 
movements.  My  poor  companion  had  his 
turn  for  duty  on  that  ill-starred  day  ;  he 
had  not  been  long  at  his  post  when  the 
sound  of  footsteps  was  heard  approaching, 
and  he  soon  saw  the  procession,  which  al- 
ways attended  the  holy  father  to  his  devo- 
tions, advancing  towards  him  ;  he  imme- 
diately placed  himself  across  the  passage, 
and,  with  his  musket  in  rest,  barred  the 
exit,  declaring,  at  the  same  time,  that 
such  were  his  orders.  In  vain  the  priests 
who  formed  the  cortege  addressed  them- 
selves to  his  heart,  and  spoke  to  his  feel- 
ings, and,  at  last,  finding  little  success  by 
these  methods,  explained  to  him  the  mor- 
tal sin  and  crime,  for  which  eternal  dam- 
nation itself  might  not  be  a  too  heavy 
retribution,  if  he  persisted  in  preventing 
his  holiness  to  pass,  and  thus  be  the  means 
of  opposing  an  obstacle  to  the  head  of  the 
whole  Catholic  Church  from  celebrating 
the  mass.  The  soldier  remained  firm  and 
unmoved,  the  only  answer  he  returned  be- 
ing, "that  he  had  his  orders,  and  dared 
'not  disobey  them."'  The  Pope,  however. 
persisted  in  his  resolution,  and  endeavored 
to  get  by,  when  the  hardy  veteran  retreat- 
ed a  step,  and  placing  his  musket  and 
bayonet  at  the  charge,  called  out,  "  Au 
now  de  V  Empereur,"  when  the  pious  party 
at  last  yielded,  and  slowly  retired  within 
the  palace. 

Not  many  days  after,  this  severe  restric- 
tion was  recalled,  and  once  more  the  fa- 
ther was  permitted  to  go  to  and  from  the 
chapel  of  the  palace  at  such  times  as  he 
pleased,  and  again,  as  before,  in  passing 
the  corridor,  the  guards  presented  arms, 
and  received  the  holy  benediction,  all  ex- 
cept one ;  upon  him  the  head  of  the 
Church  frowned  severely,  and  turned  his 
back  while  extending  his  pious  hands  to- 
wards the  others.  "'And  yet,"  said  the 
poor    fellow,    in    concluding   his   story — 


••  and  yet  I  could  not  have  done  otherwise; 
I  had  my  orders,  and  must  have  followed 
them,  and  had  the  Emperor  commanded 
it.  I  should  have  run  my  bayonet  through 
the  body  of  the  holy  father  himself. 

"  Thus,  you  see,  my  dear  sir,  how  I 
have  loved  the  Emperor,  for  I  have  many 
a  day  stood  under  fire  for  him  in  this 
world,  et  ilfaut  que  f  aime  encore  au  feu 
pour  lui  apres  ma  mort  " 

He  received  in  good  part  the  cor 
tions  I  offered  him  on  this  head,  but  1 
plainly  saw  they  did  not,  could  not  n 
his  mind  from  the  horrible  conviction  he 
lay  under,  that  his  soul's  safety  forever 
had  been  bartered  for  his  attachment  to 
the  Emperor. 

This  story  had  brought  us  to  the  end  of 
the  third  bottle  of  Medoc;  and,  as  I  was 
neither  the  Pope,  nor  had  any  very  d 
ed  intentions  of  saying  mass,  he  offered  no 
obstacle  to  my  retiring  for  the  night,  and 
betaking  myself  to  my  bed. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


THF   INN   AT   CHANTRAINE. 


When  contrasted  with  the  comforts  of 
an  English  bedroom  in  a  good  hotel,  how 
miserably  short  does  the  appearance  of  a 
French  one  fall  in  the  estimation  of  the  tired 
traveler.  In  exchange  for  the  carpeted 
floor,  the  well-curtained  windows,  the 
richly-tapestried  bed,  the  well-cushioned 
armchair,  and  the  innumerable  other  luxu- 
ries which  await  him,  he  has  naught  but  a 
narrow,  uncurtained  bed,  a  bare  floor — 
occasionally  a  flagged  one — three  hard, 
cane  bottomed  chairs,  and  a  looking-glass, 
which  may  convey  an  idea  of  how  you 
would  look  under  the  combined  influence 
of  the  cholera  and  a  stroke  of  apoplexy, 
one  half  of  your  face  being  twice  the 
length  of  the  other,  and  the  entire  of  it 
of  a  bluish-green  tint— pretty  enough  in 
one  of  Turner's  landscapes,  but  not  at  all 
becoming  when  applied  to  the  "human 
face  divine."  Let  no  late  arrival  from  the 
Continent  contradict  me  here  by  his  late 
experiences,  which  a  stray  twenty  pounds 
and  the  railroads — (confound  them  for  the 
same)— have  enabled  him  to  acquire.  I 
speak  of  matters  before  it  occurred  to  all 
Charing  Cross  and  Cheapside  to  "take  the 
water  "between  Dover  and  ('alias,  and  in- 
undate the  world  with  the  wit  of  the 
Cider  Cellars  and  the  Hole  in  the  Wall. 
No  !  In  the  days  I  write  of,  the  traveled 
were  of  another  genus,  and  you  might  dine 


i22 


rilARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


at  Yc'rv's,  or  have  your  box  at  Les  Italiens, 
without  being  dunned  by  your  tailor  ai 
the  one,  or  confronted  by  your  washer- 
woman at  the  other.  Perhaps  I  have 
written  all  this  in  the  spite  and  malice  of 
a,  man  who  feels  that  his  sovereign  only 
goes  half  as  far  now  as  hertofore,  and 
attributes  all  his  diminished  enjoyments 
and  restricted  luxuries  to  the  unceasing 
current  of  his  countrymen,  whom  fate, 
and  the  law  of  imprisonment  for  debt,  im- 
pel hither.  Whether  1  am  so  far  guilty  or 
not  is  not  now  the  question  ;  suffice  it  to 
say,  that  Harry  Lorrequer,  for  reasons  best 
known  to  himself,  lives  abroad,  where  he 
will  be  most  happy  to  see  any  of  his  old 
and  former  friends  who  take  his  quarters 
en  route  ;  and  in  the  words  of  a  bellicose 
brother  of  the  pen,  but  in  a  far  different 
spirit,  he  would  add,  "that  any  person 
who  feels  himself  here  alluded  to  may 
learn  the  author's  address  at  his  pub- 
lisher's." "  Now  let  us  go  back  to  our 
mutton's,"  as  Barney  Coyle  used  to  say  in 
the  Dublin  Library  formerly — for  Barney 
was  fond  of  French  allusions,  which  oc- 
casionally, too,  he  gave  in  their  own 
tongue,  as  once  describing  an  interview 
with  Lord  Cloncurry,  in  which  he  broke 
off  suddenly  the  conference,  adding,  "  I 
told  him  I  could  never  consent  to  such  a 
proposition,  and  putting  my  chateau  (cha- 
peau)  on  my  head,  I  left  the  house  at  once." 

It  was  nearly  three  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing as,  accompanied  by  the  waiter,  who, 
like  others  of  his  tribe,  had  become  a  kind 
of  somnambulist  ex-officio,  I  wended  my 
way  up  one  flight  of  stairs,  and  down  an- 
other, along  a  narrow  corridor,  down  two 
steps,  through  an  ante-chamber,  and  into 
another  corridor,  to  No.  82,  my  habitation 
for  the  night.  Why  I  should  have  been  so 
far  conducted  from  the  habitable  portion 
of  the  house  I  had  spent  my  evening  in, 
I  leave  the  learned  in  such  matters  to  ex- 
plain ;  as  for  me,  I  have  ever  remarked  it, 
while  asking  for  a  chamber  in  a  large, 
roomy  hotel,  the  singular  pride  with  which 
you  are  ushered  up  grand  stair-cases,  down 
passages,  through  corridors,  and  up  nar- 
row back  nights,  till  the  blue  sky  is  seen 
through  the  skylight,  to  No.  199,  '-'the 
only  spare  bedroom  in  the  house,"  while 
the  silence  and  desolation  of  the  whole  es- 
tablishment would  seem  to  imply  far  other- 
wise— the  only  evidence  of  occupation  be- 
ing a  pair  of  dirty  Wellingtons  at  the  door 
of  No.  7. 

"Well,  we  have  arrived  at  last,"  said  I, 
drawing  a  deep  sigh,  as  I  threw  myself  up- 
on a  rickety  chair  and  surveyed  rapidly 
mv  meagre-looking  apartments. 


"  Yes,  this  is  Monsieur's  chamber,"  said 
the  waiter,  with  a  very  peculiar  look,  half 
servile,  half  droll.  "Madame  couche, 
No  28." 

••  \  ery  well,  good  night,"  said  I,  closing 
the  door  hastily,  and  not  liking  the  further 
Scrutiny  Of  the  fellow's  eye,  as  he    fastened 

it  on  me,  as  if  to  search  what  precise  de- 
gree of  relationship  existed  between  my- 
self and  my  fair  friend,  whom  he  bad 
called  "Madame"  purposely  to  elicit  an 
observation  from  me.  "  Ten  to  one, 
though,"  said  I,  as  I  undressed  myself, 
"but  they  think  she  is  my  wife — how  good 
— but  again — ay,  it  is  very  possible,  con- 
sidering  we  are  in  France.  Numiro  vingt- 
liuit,  quite  far  enough  from  this  part  of 
the  house,  I  should  suppose,  from  my 
number — that  old  gendarme  was  a  fine  fel- 
low—  what  strong  attachment  to  Napo- 
leon ;  and  the  story  of  the  Pope  ;  I  hope 
1  nfay  remember  that.  Isabella,  poor  girl — 
this  adventure  must  really  distress  her — 
hope  she  is  not  crying  over  it — what  a 
devil  of  a  hard  bed — and  it  is  not  five  feet 
long,  too — and,  bless  my  soul,  is  this  all  by 
way  of  covering  ?  why,  I  shall  be  perished 
here.  Oh  !  I  must  certainly  put  all  my 
clothes  over  me  in  addition  ;  unfortunately 
there  is  no  hearth-rug — well,  there  is  no 
help  for  it  now,  so  let  me  try  to  sleep 
numero  vingt-huit. " 

How  long  I  remained  in  a  kind  of  un- 
easy, fitful  slumber,  I  cannot  tell,  but  I 
awoke  shivering  with  cold,  puzzled  to  tell 
where  I  was,  and  my  brain  addled  with  the 
broken  fragments  of  half  a  dozen  dreams, 
all  mingling  and  mixing  themselves  with 
the  unpleasant  realities  of  my  situation. 
"  What  at)  infernal  contrivance  for  abed," 
thought  I,  as  my  head  came  thump  against 
the  top,  while  my  legs  projected  far  beyond, 
the  foot-rail,  the  miserable  portion  of 
clothing  over  me  at  the  same  time  being 
only  sufficient  to  temper  the  night  air, 
which  in  autumn  is  occasionally  severe  and 
cutting.  ''This  will  never  do.  I  must 
ring  the  bell,  and  rouse  the  house,  if  only 
to  get  a  fire,  if  they  don't  possess  such  a 
thing  as  blankets."  I  immediately  rose, 
and,  groping  my  way  along  the  wall,  en- 
deavored to  discover  the  bell,  but  in  vain  ; 
and  for  the  same  satisfactory  reason  that 
Von  Troil  did  not  devote  one  chapter  of 
his  work  on  "Iceland"  to  "snakes,"  be- 
cause there  were  none  such  there.  What 
was  now  to  be  done  ?  About  the  geogra- 
phy of  my  present  abode  I  knew,  perhaps, 
as  much  as  the  public  at  large  know  about 
the  Coppermine  River  and  Behring's 
Straits.  The  world,  it  was  true,  was  before 
me,  "whereto   choose,"  admirable  things 


HARRY   LORREQUER. 


123 


for  an  epic,  but  decidedly  an  unfortunate 
circumstance  for  a  very  cold  gentleman  in 
search  of  a  blanket.  Tims  thinking,  I 
opened  tbe  door  of  my  chamber,  and,  no1 
in  any  way  resolved  how  I  should  proceed, 
I  stepped  forth  into  the  long  corridor, 
which  was  dark  as  midnight  itself. 

Tracing  my  path  along  the  wall,  I  soon 
reached-a  door,  which  1  in  vain  attempted 
to  open  ;  in  another  moment  1  found  an- 
other and  another,  each  of  winch  were 
locked.  Thus  along  the  entire  corridor  I 
felt  my  way,  making  every  effort  to  discov- 
er where  any  of  the  people  of  the  house 
might  have  concealed  themselves,  but 
without  success.  What  was  to  be  done 
now  ?  It  was  of  no  use  to  go  back  to  my 
late  abode,  and  find  it  comfortless  as  I 
left  it ;  so  I  resolved  to  proceed  in  my 
search  ;  by  this  time  I  had  arrived  at  the 
top  of  a  small  flight  of  stairs,  which  I  re- 
membered having  come  up,  and  which  led 
to  another  long  passage,  similar  to  the  one 
I  had  explored,  but  running  in  a  trans- 
verse direction;  down  this  I  now  crept,  and 
reached  the  landing,  along  the  hall  of 
which  I  was  guided  by  my  hand,  as  well 
for  safety  as  to  discover  the  architrave  of 
some  friendly  door,  where  the  inhabitant 
might  be  sufficiently  Samaritan  to  lend 
some  portion  of  his  bedclothes.  Door  af- 
ter door  followed  in  succession  along  this 
confounded  passage,  which  I  began  to 
think  as  long  as  the  gallery  of  the  lower 
one  ;  at  last,  however,  just  as  my  heart 
was  sinking  within  me  from  disappoint- 
ment, the  handle  of  a  lock  turned,  and  I 
found  myself  inside  a  chamber.  How  was 
I  now  to  proceed  ;  for  if  this  apartment 
did  not  contain  any  of  the  people  of  the 
hotel,  I  had  but  a  sorry  excuse  for  disturb- 
ing the  repose  of  any  traveler  who  might 
have  been  more  fortunate  than  myself  in 
the  article  of  blankets.  To  go  back,  how- 
ever, would  be  absurd,  having  already  tak- 
en so  much  trouble  to  find  out  a  room  that 
was  inhabited— for  that  such  was  the  case, 
a  short,  thick  snore  assured  me — so  that 
my  resolve  was  at  once  made,  to  waken  the 
sleeper,  and  endeavor  to  interest  him  in 
my  destitute  situation.  I  accordingly  ap- 
proached the  place  where  the  nasal  sounds 
seemed  to  issue  from,  and  soon  reached  the 
post  of  a  bed.  I  waited  for  an  instant,  and 
then  began,— 

"Monsieur,  voulez-vous  bien  me  per- 
mettre " 

"  As  to  short  whist,  I  never  could  make 
it  out,  so  there  is  an  end  of  it,"  said  my 
unknown  friend,  in  a  low,  husky  voice, 
which,  strangely  enough,  was  not  total- 
ly   unfamiliar  to    me;  but    when    or  how 


I    had   heard   it   before  1  could  not  then 

think. 

••  Well.**  though!  I.  -  he  ie  an  English- 
man, at  all  events,  so  I  hope  hie  pal  riol  ism 
may  forgive  my  inl  rusion,so  hi 

more  to  rouse  him.  though  he  Beems  a  con- 
foundedly heavy  Bleeper.  I  beg  your  par- 
don, sir.  hut  unfortunately,  in  a  point  like 
the  present,  perhaps " 

"Well,  do  yon  mark  the  points,  and  1*11 
score  the  rubber,"  .-aid  he. 

"The  devil   take  the   gambling  fellow's 
dreaming,'"  thought  I,  raising  my  voir. 
the  same  t  ime. 

"Perhaps  a  cold  night,  sir.  may  suffice 
as  my  apology." 

"Cold,  on,  ay!  put  a  hot  poker  in  it." 
muttered  he  :  "  a  hot  poker,  a  little  sugar. 
and  a  spice  of  nutmeg — nothing  else — then 
its  delicious."' 

';  Upon  my  soul,  this  is  too  had."'  said  I 
to  myself.  "Let  us  see  what  shaking  will 
do.     Sir,  sir.  1  shall  feel  obliged  by " 

"Well,  then,  don't  shake  me,  and  I'll 
tell  you  where  I  hid  the  cigars — they  are 
under  my  straw  hat  in  the  window.*' 

"  Well,  really,  thought  I,  "if  this  gen- 
tleman's confessions  were  of  an  interesting 
nature,  this  might  be  good  fun  ;  but  as 
the  night  is  cold,  I  must  shorten  the  seance, 
so  here  goes  for  one  effort  more." 

"  If,  sir,  you  could  kindly  spare  me  even 
a  small  portion  of  your  bed-clothes " 

"No,   thank  you,  no  more  wine:    but 
I'll   sing   with   pleasure ; "   and  here   the 
wretch,  in  something  like  the  voice  of  a 
frog  with  the  quinzy,  began,  "  '  I'd  mourn 
the  hopes   that  leave  me.'"     "You  shall 
|  mourn    something  else  for  the  same  rea- 
!  son."  said  I,  as  losing  all  patience,  I  seized 
quilt  and  blankets  by  the  corner,  and  with 
)  one  vigorous  pull  wrenched  them  from  the 
bed,    and    darted    from    the   room  ;    in    a 
j  second   I  was  in  the  corridor,  trailing  my 
!  spoil  behind,  which  in  my  haste  I  had  not 
time  to  collect  in  a  bundle.     1  flew  rather 
than  ran    along  the  passage,  reached  the 
stairs,  and  in  another   minute   had   gained 
the  second  gallery,  but  not  before  I  heard 
the  slam  of  a  door  behind  me,  and  the  same 
instant  the  footsteps  of  a  person  running 
1  along  the  corridor,  who  could  be  no  other 
than   my  pursuer,  effectually  aroused   by 
my  last  appeal   to    his  charity.     I  darted 
along  the  dark    and   narrow    passage,   but 
soon"  to  my  horror  discovered  that  I   must 
have  passed  the  door  of  my  chamber,  for  I 
had   reached    the   foot    of  a   narrow    hack- 
stair,  which    led   to   the  grenier   and  the 
servants'    rooms,    beneath    the    roof.      To 
turn  now  would  only  have  led  me  plum}) 
I  in  the  face  of  my  injured  countryman,  of 


124 


c ii. \ n l /•:>■  i. /•: 1 7:/.-,s'  i \<> it ks. 


whose  fchew  and  sinew  I  was  perfectly 
ignorant,  and  did  not  much  like  to  venture 
upon.     There  was  little  time  for  reflection, 

for  lie  had  just  reached  the  top  of  the  stair, 
and  was  evidently  listening  for  some  clue 
to  guide  him  on;  stealthily  and  silently, 
and  scarcely  drawing  breath,  I  mounted 
the  narrow  stairs,  step  by  step,  but  before 
I  had  arrived  at  the  landing,  he  heard  the 
rustle  of  the  bedclothes,  and  again  gave 
chase.  There  was  something  in  the  unre- 
lenting ardor  of  his  pursuit  which  sug- 
gested to  my  mind  the  idea  of  a  most  un- 
compromising foe  :  and  as  fear  added  speed 
to  my  steps,  1  dashed  along  beneath  the 
low-roofed  passage,  wondering  what  chance 
of  escape  might  yet  present  itself.  Just 
at  this  instant,  the  hand  by  which  I  had 
guided  myself  along  the  wall  touched  the 
handle  of  a  door — I  turned  it — it  opened — 
I  drew  in  my  precious  bundle,  and  closing 
the  door  noiselessly,  sat  down,  breathless 
and  still,  upon  the  floor. 

Scarcely  was  this,  the  work  of  a  second, 
accomplished,  when  the  heavy  tread  of 
my  pursuer  resounded  on  the  floor. 

"Upon  my  conscience  it's  strange  if  I 
haven't  you  now,  my  friend,"  said  he, 
"  you're  in  a  cut  de  sac  here,  as  they  say,  if 
I  know  anything  of  the  house  ;  and  faith  I'll 
make  a  salad  of  you,  when  I  get  you,  that's 
all.   Devil  a  dirtier  trick  ever  I  heard  tell  of." 

Need  I  say  these  words  had  the  true 
smack  of  an  Irish  accent,  which  circum- 
stance, from  whatever  cause,  did  not  by 
any  means  tend  to  assuage  my  fears  in  the 
event  of  discovery. 

However,  from  such  a  misfortune  my 
good  genius  now  delivered  me  ;  for  after 
traversing  the  passage  to  the  end,  he  at 
last  discovered  another,  which  led  by  a 
long  flight  to  the  second  story,  down  which 
he  proceeded,  venting  at  every  step  his 
determination  tor  vengeance,  and  his  reso- 
lution not  to  desist  from  the  pursuit,  if  it 
took  the  entire  night  for  it. 

"  Well  now,"  thought  I,  "  as  he  will 
scarcely  venture  up  here  again,  and  as  I 
may,  by  leaving  this,  be  only  incurring  the 
risk  of  encountering  him,  my  best  plan  is 
to  stay  where  I  am,  if  it  be  possible." 
With  this  intent,  I  proceeded  to  explore 
the  apartment,  which,  from  its  perfect 
stillness,  I  concluded  to  be  unoccupied. 
After  some  few  minutes  groping,  I  reached 
a  low  bed,  fortunately  empty,  and  although 
the  touch  of  the  bedclothes  led  to  no  very 
favorable  augury  of  its  neatness  or  elegance, 
there  was  little  choice  at  this  moment,  so 
I  rolled  myself  up  in  my  recent  booty,  and 
resolved  to  wait  patiently  for  daybreak  to 
regain  my  apartment. 


As  always  happens  in  such  circum- 
stances, sleep  came  on  unawares  :  so  at 
leasl  everj  one's  experience,  I  am  sure,  can 
testify,  that  if  you  are  forced  to  awake 
early  to  start  by  some  morning  coach,  and 
thai  unfortunately  you  have  not  got  to 
bed  till  latent,  night,  the  chances  are  ten 
tn  one  that  you  get  no  sleep  whatever, 
simply  because  you  are  desirous  of  it;  but 
make  up  your  mind  ever  so  resolutely  that 
you'll  not  slumber,  and  whether  your  de- 
termination be  built  on  motives  of  propriety, 
duty,  convenience,  or  health,  the  chances 
are  just  as  strong  that  you  are  sound  and 
snoring  before  ten  minutes. 

How  many  a  man  has  found  it  impos- 
sible, with  every  effort  of  his  heart  and 
brain  aiding  his  good  wishes,  to  sit  with 
unclosed  eyes  and  ears  through  a  dull  ser- 
mon in  the  dog-days  ;  how  many  an  ex- 
pectant, longing  heir  has  yielded  to  the 
drowsy  influence  when  endeavoring  to  look 
contrite  under  the  severe  correction  of  a 
lecture  on  extravagance  from  his  uncle. 
Who  has  not  felt  the  irresistible  tendency 
to  "■  drop  off"  in  the  half  hour  before  din- 
ner at  a  stupid  country-house  ?  I  need  not 
catalogue  the  thousand  other  situations  in 
life  infinitely  more  "sleep-compelling" 
than  morphine  ;  for  myself,  my  pleasant- 
est  and  soundest  moments  of  perfect  for- 
getf ulness  of  this  dreary  world  and  all  its 
cares,  have  been  taken  on  an  oaken  bench, 
seated  bold  upright,  and  vis-a-vis  a  lec- 
turer on  botany,  whose  calming  accents, 
united  with  the  softened  light  of  an  au- 
tumnal day,  piercing  its  difficult  rays 
through  the  narrow  and  cobwebbed  win- 
dows, the  odor  of  the  recent  plants  and 
flowers  aiding  and  abetting,  all  combined 
to  steep  the  soul  in  sleep,  and  you  sank  by 
imperceptible  and  gradual  steps  into  that 
state  of  easy  slumber,  in  which  "come  no 
dreams,"  and  the  last  sounds  of  the  lec- 
turer's "hypogenous  and  peri  gen  ous  "  died 
away,  becoming  beautifully  less,  till  your 
senses  sank  into  rest,  the  syllable  "rigging 
us — rigging  us,"  seemed  to  melt  away  in 
the  distance  and  fade  from  your  memory 
Peace    be  with  you,  Dr.  A. !     If  I  owe 


gratitude  anywhere,  1  have  my  debt  with 
you.  The  very  memory  I  bear  of  you  has 
saved  me  no  inconsiderable  sum  in  hop  and 
henbane.  Without  any  assistance  from 
the  sciences  on  the  present  occasion,  I  was 
soon  asleep,  and  woke  not  till  the  cracking 
of  whips,  and  trampling  of  horses' feet  on 
the  pavement  of  the  coach-yard,  apprized 
me  that  the  world  had  risen  to  its  daily 
labor,  and  that  so  ought  I.  From  the  short 
survey  of  my  present  chamber  which  I  took 
on    waking.    I    conjectured    it   must   have 


HARRY   LORREQUER. 


125 


hcen  the  don  of  some  of  the  servants  of  the 
house  upon  occasion  :  two  low  truckle-bede 
of  the  meanesl  description  lay  along  the 
wall  opposite  to  mine;  one  of  them  appear- 
ed to  have  been  slepl  in  during  the  pa  I 
night,  but  by  what  species  of  animal  the 
Pates  alone  can  tell.  An  old  demi-peak 
3addle, capped  and  tipped  with  brass,  some 
I  bits,  and  stray  stirrup-irons,  lay  here 
and  there  upon  the  floor;  while  upon  a 
species  of  clothes-rack,  attached  to  a  raf- 
ter, hung  a  tarnished  suit  of  postilion's 
livery,  cap,  jacket,  leathers,  and  jack- 
boots, all  ready  for  use:  and  evidently 
from  their  arrangement,  supposed  by  the 
owner  to  be  a  rather  creditable  "  turn 
out." 

I  turned  over  these  singular  habiliments 
with  much  of  the  curiosity  with  which  an 
antiquary  would  survey  a  suit  of  chain 
armor;  the  long  epaulets  of  yellow  cot  ton 
cord,  the  heavy  belt  with  its  brass  buckle, 
the  cumbrous  boots,  plaited  and  bound 
with  iron  like  churns,  were  in  rather  a 
ludicrous  contrast  to  the  equipment  of  our 
light  and  jockeydike  boys  in  nankeen 
jackets  and  neat  tops,  that  spin  along  over 
our  level  "  Macadam." 

"But,"  thought  I,  "it  is  full  time  I 
should  get  back  to  No.  82,  and  make  my 
appearance  below  stairs  ;  "  though  in  what 
part  of  the  building  my  room  lay,  and  how 
I  was  to  reach  it  without  my  clothes,  I  had 
not  the  slightest  idea.  A  blanket  is  an  ex- 
cessively comfortable  article  of  wearing  ap- 
parel when  in  bed,  but  as  a  walking  cos- 
tume is  by  no  means  convenient  or  appro- 
priate ;  while,  as  to  making  a  sortie  en 
sauvage,  however  appropriate  during  the 
night,  there  were  many  serious  objections 
if  done  in  broad  day.  and  with  the  whole 
establishment  awake  and  active  ;  the  noise 
of  mopping,  scrubbing,  and  polishing, 
which  is  eternally  going  forward  in  a  for- 
eign inn,  amply  testified  there  was  nothing 
which  I  could  adopt  in  my  present  naked 
and  forlorn  condition,  save  the  uncouth 
and  ridiculous  dress  of  the  postilion,  and  I 
need  not  say  the  thought  of  so  doing  pre- 
sented nothing  agreeable.  I  looked  from 
the  narrow  window  out  upon  the  tiled  roof, 
but  without  any  prospect  of  being  heard  if 
I  called  ever  so  loudly. 

The  infernal  noise  of  floor-cleansing,  as- 
sisted by  a  Norman  peasant's  chanson  du 
pays,  the  "  time "  being  well  marked  by 
her  heavy  sabots,  gave  even  less  chance  to 
me  within  ;  so  that  after  more  than  half 
an  hour  passed  in  weighing  difficulties  and 
canvassing  plans,  1  determined  upon  don- 
ning "  the  blue  and  yellow,"  and  setting  out 
for   my  own  room  without   delay,  hoping 


I v   I bal .  vvit h   nr  caul ion,  1 

should  be  able  to  reach  il  unseen  and   un- 
observed. 

A.8  1  laid  bul  iii  I  le  apon  the  figure 

I  should  make   in   my  new    habilimi 
did    nol    can-"    mc  much    niori  il 
find  that  the  clothes  wrrr  considerably  too 
small,  the  jacket  scarcely  coming  beneath 
my  anus,  and   the  sleeves  being  so  short 
that   my  hands  and   wrists   projected 
yond  the  cuffs  like  two  enormous   claw-  ; 
the    leathers    were   also   limited    in    their 
length,  and   when   drawn    up   to   a    ; 
height,    permitted    my   knees    to    bi 
beneath,  like  the  Bhori  costume  of  a  Span- 
ish torreador,  but  scarcely  as  graceful  :  nol 
wishing  to  encumber  myself  in  the  heavy 
and  noisy  masses  of  wood,  iron,  and  leath- 
er they  call    "les  bottes  fortes"   I  slipped 
my  feet  into  my  slippers,  and  stole  gently 
from  the  room.     How  1  must  have  1 
at  the  moment,  I  leave  my  leader  to  t 
as  with  anxious  and  stealthy  pace  J 
along  the  low  gallery  that  led   to  th 
row   staircase,   down   which  I  proceeded, 
step  by  step  ;  but  just  as  I  reached  the 
bottom,  perceived,  a  little  distance  from 
me,  with   her  back  turned  toward 
short,  squat  peasant  on  her  knees,  belabor- 
ing with  a  brush  the  well  waxed  floor  ;  to 
pass,  therefore,  unobserved  was  impossible, 
so  that  I  did  not  hesitate  to  address  her, 
and  endeavor  to  interest  her  in  my  behalf, 
and  enlist  her  as  my  guide. 

"  Bon  jour,  ma  chere,"  said  I,  in  a  soft. 
insinuating  tone.  She  did  not  hear  me. 
so  I  repeated,  "Bon  jour,  ma  chore,  bon 
jour." 

Upon  this  she  turned  round,  and  look- 
ing fixedly  at  me  for  a  second,  called  out 
|  in  a  thick  patois,  "Ah.  bon  Dieu,  qu'il 
est  drole  comme  ca,  Francois!  Mais 
n'estpas  Francois!"  Saying  which,  she 
sprang  from  her  kneeling  position  to  her 
feet,  and  with  a  speed  that  her  shape  and 
sabots  seemed  little  to  promise,  rushed 
down  the  stairs  as  if  she  had  seen  the  devil 
himself. 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  the  wo- 
man?" said  I;  •'surely,  if  1  am  not 
Francois —  which,  God  be  thanked,  is  true 
—  vet  1  cannot  look  so  frightful  as  all  this 
would  imply."  1  had  not  much  time  given 
me  for  consideration  now.  for  before  J  had 
well  deciphered  the  number  over  a  d 
before  me.  the  loud  noise  of  several  voices 
on  the  floor  beneath  attracted  my  atten 
tion,  and  the  moment  after  the  heavy 
tramp  of  feet  followed,  and  in  an  instant 
the  gallery  was  thronged  by  the  men  and 
women  of  the  house — waiters,  ostlers, 
cooks,  scullions,  filles  de  ehambre.  mingled 


i26 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


with  gendarmes,  peasants,  and  townspeo- 
ple— all  eagerly  forcing  their  way  upstairs  ; 
yet  all,  on  arriving  at  the  landing-place, 
seemed  disposed   fco  keep  at   a    respectful 

distance,  and  bundled  themselves  ;il  one 
end  of  the  corridor,  while  I,  feelingly  alive 
to  the  ridiculous  appearance  I  made  occu- 
pied the  other.  The  gravity  with  which 
they  seemed  at  first  disposed  to  regard  me 
soon  gave  way,  and  peal  after  peal  of 
laughter  broke  out,  and  young  and  old, 
men  and  women,  even  to  the  most  severe 
gendarmes,  all  appeared  incapable  of  con- 
trolling the  desire  for  merriment  my  most 
singular  figure  inspired  ;  and  unfortu- 
nately this  emotion  seemed  to  promise  no 
very  speedy  conclusion  ;  for  the  jokes 
and  witticisms  made  upon  my  appearance 
threatened  to  renew  the  festivities,  ad  libi- 
tum. 

"Regardez  done  ses  epaules,"  said  one. 

"Ah,  mon  Dieu  !  II  me  fait  l'idee 
d'une  grenouille  avec  ses  jambes  jaunes," 
cried  another. 

"II  vaut  son  pesant  de  fromagepour  un 
vaudeville,"  said  the  director  of  the  stroll- 
ing theater  of  the  place.  "  I'll  give  sev- 
enty francs  a  week  '  d'appointements,'  and 
Scribe  shall  write  a  piece  expressly  for 
himself,  if  he'll  take  it." 

"  May  the  devil  fly  away  with  your 
grinning  baboon  faces,"  said  I,  as  I  rushed 
up  the  stairs  again,  pursued  by  the  mob  at 
full  cry.  Scarcely,  however,  had  I  reached 
the  top  step,  when  the  rough  hand  of  the 
gendarme  seized  me  by  the  shoulder,  while 
he  said  in  a  low,  husky  voice,  "  C'est  inu- 
tile, monsieur,  you  cannot  escape — the 
thing  was  well  contrived,  it  is  true  ;  but 
the  gendarmes  of  France  are  not  easily 
outwitted,  and  you  could  not  have  long- 
avoided  detection,  even  in  that  dress."  It 
was  my  turn  to  laugh  now  ;  which,  to 
their  very  great  amazement,  I  did,  loud 
and  long  ;  that  I  should  have  thought  my 
present  costume  could  ever  have  been  the 
means  of  screening  me  from  observation, 
however  it  might  have  been  calculated  to 
attract  it,  was  rather  too  absurd  a  suppo- 
sition even  for  the  mayor  of  a  village  to 
entertain  ;  besides,  it  only  now  occurred  to 
me  that  I  was  figuring  in  the  character  of 
a  prisoner.  The  continued  peals  of  laugh- 
» ing  which  this  mistake  on  their  part 
elicited  from  me  seemed  to  afford  but 
slight  pleasure  to  my  captor,  who  gruffly 
said, — 

"  When  you  have  done  amusing  your- 
self, mon  ami,  perhaps,  you  will  do  us  the 
favor  to  come  before  the  mayor." 

"  Certainly,"  I  replied  ;  "but  you  will 
first  permit  me  to  resume  my  own  clot  lies  ; 


I  am  quite  Bick  of  masquerading  '  en  pos- 
tilion.'" 

"  Not  so  fast,  my  friend,"  said  the  sus- 
picious old  follower  of  Fouche — "not  so 
fast  ;  it  is  but  right  the  maire  should  see 
you  in,  the  disguise  you  attempted  your 
escape  in.  Itniust  be  especially  mentioned 
in  the  proces  verbal." 

■■  Well,  this  is  becoming  too  ludicrous," 
said  I.  "  It  need  not  take  five  minutes  to 
satisfy  you  why,  how,  and  where,  I  put  on 
these  confounded  rags " 

"  Then  tell  it  to  the  .maire,  at  the  bu- 
reau." 

"  But  for  that  purpose  it  is  not  neces- 
sary I  should  be  conducted  through  the 
streets  in  broad  day,  to  be  laughed  at. 
No,  positively,  Til  not  go.  In  my  own 
dress  I'll  accompany  you  with  pleasure." 

"  Victor.  Henri,  Guillaume,"  said  the 
gendarme,  addressing  his  companions,  who 
immediately  closed  round  me.  "  You  see," 
added  he,"  there  is  no  use  in  resisting." 

Need  I  recount  my  own  shame  and  inef- 
fable disgrace  ?  Alas  !  it  is  too  true. 
Harry  Lorreqner- — whom  Stultz  entreated 
to  wear  his  coats,  the  ornament  of  Hyde 
Park,  the  last  appeal  in  dress,  fashion, 
and  equipage  —  was  obliged  to  parade 
through  the  mob  of  a  market-town  in 
France,  with  four  gendarmes  for  his  com- 
panions, and  he  himself  habited  in  a  mon- 
grel character  half  postilion,  half  Delaware 
Indian.  The  incessant  yells  of  laughter — 
the  screams  of  the  children,  and  the  out- 
pouring of  every  species  of  sarcasm  and 
ridicule,  at  my  expense,  were  not  all — for, 
as  I  emerged  from  the  inn  door,  I  saw  Isa- 
bella in  the  window  :  her  eyes  were  red 
with  Aveeping  ;  but  no  sooner  had  she  be- 
held me,  than  she  broke  out  into  a  fit  of 
laughter  that  was  audible  even  in  the 
street. 

Rage  had  now  taken  such  a  hold  upon 
me,  that  I  forgot  my  ridiculous  appear- 
ance in  my  thirst  for  vengeance.  I 
marched  on  through  the  grinning  crowd 
with  the  step  of  a  martyr.  I  suppose  my 
heroic  bearing  and  warlike  deportment 
must  have  heightened  the  drollery  of  the 
scene  ;  for  the  devils  only  laughed  the 
more.  The  bureau  of  the  maire  could  not 
contain  one-tenth  of  the  anxious  and  cu- 
rious individuals  who  thronged  the  en- 
trance, and  for  about  twenty  minutes  the 
whole  efforts  of  the  gendarmes  were  little 
enough  to  keep  order  and  maintain  silence. 
At  length  the  maire  made  his  appearance, 
and  accustomed  as  he  had  been  for  a  long 
life  to  scenes  of  an  absurd  and  extraor- 
dinary nature,  yet  the  ridicule  of  my  look 
and  costume  was  too  much,  and  he  laughed 


II MIRY  LORREQUER. 


127 


outright.  This  was  of  course  the  sig- 
nal  for  renewed  mirth  from  the  crowd, 
while  those  without  doors,  infected  by  the 
example,  took  up  the  jest,  and  1  had  the 
pleasure  of  ;i  short  calculation,  a  la  Bdb- 
bage,  of  how  many  maxillary  jaws  wen'  at 
that  same  momeni  wagging  at  mj  expense. 

However,  the  examination  commenced  ; 
and  I  lit  length  obtained  an  opportunity 
of  explaining  under  what  circumstances  I 
had  left  my  room,  and  how  and  why  1  had 
been  induced  to  don  this  confounded 
cause  of  all  my  misery. 

"This  may  be  very  true,"  said  the  may- 
or, "  as  it  is  very  plausible,  if  you  have 
evidence  to  prove  what  you   have  slated 


"If  it's  evidence  only  is  wanting,  Mr. 
Mai  re,  I'll  confirm  one  part  of  the  story," 
said  a  voice  in  the  crowd,  in  an  accent  and 
tone  that  assured  me  the  speaker  was  the 
injured  proprietor  of  the  stolen  hlankets. 
I  turned  round  hastily  to  look  at  my  vic- 
tim, and  what  was  my  surprise  to  recog- 
nize a  very  old  Dublin  acquaintance,  Mr. 
Arthur  O'Leary. 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Lorrequer,"  said 
he  ;  "  this  is  mighty  like  our  old  practices 
in  College  Green  ;  but  upon  my  conscience 
the  maire  has  the  advantage  of  Gabbet. 
It's  lucky  for  you  I  know  his  worship,  as 
we'd  call  him  at  home,  or  this  might  be  a 
serious  business.  Nothing  would  persuade 
them  that  you  were  not  Lucien  Bonaparte, 
or  the  Iron  Mask,  or  something  of  that  sort, 
if  they  took  it  into  their  heads." 

Mr.  O'Leary  was  as  good  as  his  word. 
In  a  species  of  French,  that  I'd  venture  to 
say  would  be  perfectly  intelligible  in  Mul- 
lingar,  he  contrived  to  explain  to  the 
maire  that  I  was  neither  a  runaway  nor  a 
swindler,  but  a  very  old  friend  of  his,  and 
consequently  most  respectable.  The  of- 
ficial was  now  as  profuse  of  his  civilities 
as  he  had  before  been  of  his  suspicions, 
and  most  hospitably  pressed  us  to  stay  for 
breakfast.  This,  for  many  reasons,  I  was 
obliged  to  decline — not  the  least  of  which 
was,  my  impatience  to  get  out  of  my  pres- 
ent costume.  We  accordingly  procured  a 
carriage,  and  I  returned  to  the  hotel, 
screened  from  the  gaze  but  still  accom- 
panied by  the  shouts  of  the  mob,  who  evi- 
dently took  a  most  lively  interest  in  the 
entire  proceeding. 

I  lost  no  time  in  changing  my  costume, 
and  was  about  to  descend  to  the  saloon, 
when  the  master  of  the  house  came  to  in- 
form me  that  Mrs.  Bingham's  courier  had 
arrived  with  the  carriage,  and  that  she  ex- 
pected us  at  Amiens  as  soon  as  possible. 

"That  is  all  right.     Now,  Mr.  O'Leary, 


1  must   pray  you  to  forgive  the  liberty  I 

have    taken    with    you.  ;in<l    also  permit  me 

to  defer  the  explanation  of  many  circum- 
stances   \\  Inch   seem   at    p  '  -i hi    3trai 
till " 

"  Till  sine  die,  it'  the  story  \><-  a  long 
one,  my  dear  .hi-.  There's  nothing  1  hat< 
so  much,  except  cold  punch." 

"  Von   are  going  to  Paris,"  said  I 
it  not  so  ? "' 

"Yes,  I'm  thinking  of  it.  I  was  up  at 
Trolhatten,  in  Norway,  three  wicks  ago, 
and  I  was  obliged  to  leave  it  hastily,  for 
I've  an  appointment  with  a  friend  in 
Geneva." 

"Then  how  do  you  travel  ?" 

''On  foot,  just  as  you  see.  except  that  1 
have  a  tobacco-bag  upstairs,  and  an  um- 
brella." 

"Light  equipment,   certainly;  hut    you 
must  allow  me  to  give  you  a  set  down 
far  as  Amiens,  and  also  to  present  you  to 
my  friends  there." 

To  this  Mr.  O'Leary  made  no  objection; 
and  as  Miss  Bingham  could  not  hear  any 
delay,  in  her  anxiety  to  join  her  mother, 
we  set  out  at  once — the  only  thing  to  mar 
my  full  enjoyment  at  the  moment  b 
the  sight  of  the  identical  vestments  I  hail 
so  lately  figured  in,  bobbing  up  and  down 
before  my  eyes  for  the  whole  length  of  the 
stage,  and  leading  to  innumerable  m 
chievous  allusions  from  my  friend  Mr. 
O'Leary,  which  were  far  too  much  relished 
by  my  fair  companion. 

At  twelve  we  arrived  at  Amiens,  when  I 
presented  my  friend  Mr.  O'Leary  to  Mrs. 
Bingham. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


MR.    0  LEARY. 


At  the  conclusion  of  my  last  chapter  - 
was  about  to  introduce  to  my  reader's  ac- 
quaintance my  friend  Mr.  O'Leary  :  and. 
as  he  is  destined  to  occupy  some  place  in 
the  history  of  these  Confessions.  I  may. 
perhaps,  be  permitted  to  do  so  at  more 
length  than  his  intrinsic  merit  at  first 
might  appear  to  warrant. 

Mr.  O'Leary  was.  and  1  am  induced  to 
believe  is,  a  particularly  short,  fat.  greasy- 
looking  gentleman,  with  a  head  as  free 
from  phrenological  development  as  a 
billiard-ball,  and  a  countenance  which,  in 
feature  and  color,  nearly  resembled  the 
face  of  a  cherub,  carved  in  oak.  as  we  see 
them  in  old  pulpits. 

Short  as  is  his  stature,  his  limbs  com- 
pose the  least  part  of  it.     His  hands  and 


i28 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


feet,  forming  some  compensation  by  their 
ample  proportions,  give  bo  his  entice  air 
and  appearance  somewhat  the  look  of  a 
small  fish,  with  short,  thick  fins,  vulgarly 
called  a  cobler's  thumb.  His  voice,  vary- 
ing in  cadence  from  a  deep  barytone  to  a 
high  falsetto,  maintains  throughout  the 
distinctive  characteristic  of  a  Dublin  ac- 
cent and  pronunciation,  and  he  talks  of 
the  "Veel  of  Ovoca,  and  a  heei-steek," 
wich  some  pride  of  intonation.  "What 
part  of  the  Wand  he  came  originally  from, 
or  what  may  be  his  age,  are  questions  I 
have  the  most  profound  ignorance  of;  I 
have  heard  many  anecdotes  which  would 
imply  his  being  what  the  French  call 
"  d'un  dge  mur" — but  his  own  observations 
are  generally  limited  to  events  occurring 
since  the  peace  of  ''fifteen."  To  his  per- 
sonal attractions,  such  as  they  are,  he  has 
never  been  solicitous  of  contributing  by 
the  meretricious  aids  of  dress.  His  coat, 
calculating  from  its  length  of  waist  and 
ample  skirt,  would  fit  Bumbo  Green,  while 
his  trousers,  being  made  of  some  cheap 
and  shrinking  material,  have  gradually 
contracted  their  limits,  and  look  now 
exactly  like  knee-breeches,  without  the 
usual  buttons  at  the  bottom. 

These,  with  the  addition  of  a  pair  of 
green  spectacles,  the  glass  of  one  being  ab- 
sent, and  permitting  the  look-out  of  a 
sharp,  gray  eye,  twinkling  with  drollery 
and  good  humor,  form  the  most  palpable 
of  his  externals.  In  point  of  character, 
they  who  best  knew  him  represented  him 
as  the  best-tempered,  best-hearted  fellow 
breathing  ;  ever  ready  to  assist  a  friend, 
and  always  postponing  his  own  plans  and 
his  own  views,  when  he  had  any,  to  the 
wishes  and  intentions  of  others.  Among 
the  many  odd  things  about  him  was  a  con- 
stant preference  to  traveling  on  foot,  and 
a  great  passion  for  living  abroad,  both  of 
which  tastes  he  gratified,  although  his 
size  might  seem  to  offer  obstacles  to  the 
one,  and  his  total  ignorance  of  every  con- 
tinental language  would  appear  to  preclude 
the  other  ;  with  a  great  liking  for  tobacco, 
which  he  smoked  all  day— a  fondness  for 
whist  and  malt  liquors — his  antipathies 
were  few ;  so  that,  except  when  called 
upon  to  shave  more  than  once  in  the  week, 
or  wash  his  hands  twice  on  the  same  day, 
it  was  difficult  to  disconcert  him.  His 
fortune  was  very  ample  ;  but  although  his 
mode  of  living  was  neither  very  ostenta- 
tious nor  costly,  he  contrived  always  to 
spend  bis  income.  Such  was  the  gentle- 
man I  now  presented  to  my  friends,  who, 
I  must  confess,  appeared  strangely  puzzled 
by  his  manner  and  appearance.     This  feel- 


ing, however,  soon  wore  off  ;  and  before 
be  had  spent  the  morning  in  their  com- 
pany, he  had  made  more  way  in  their  good 
graces,  and  gone  farther  to  establish  inti- 
macy, than  many  a  more  accomplished 
person,  with  an  unexceptionable  coat  and 
accurate  whisker  might  have  effected  in  2 
fortnight.  What  were  his  gifts  in  this 
way,  1  am.  alas  !  mosl  deplorably  ignorant 
of;  it  was  not,  Heaven  knows,  that  he 
possessed  any  conversational  talent — of 
successful  flattery  he  knew  as  much  as  a 
negro  does  of  the  national  debt — and  yet 
the  bonhomie  of  his  character  seemed  to 
tell  at  once  ;  and  I  never  knew  him  fail  in 
any  one  instance  to  establish  an  interest 
for  himself  before  he  had  completed  th& 
ordinary  period  of  a  visit. 

I  think  it  is  Washington  Irving  i.dio  has 
so  admirably  depicted  the  mortification  of 
a  dandy  angler,  who.  with  his  bea\er  gar- 
nished with  brown  hackles,  his  well-poised 
rod,  polished  gaff,  and  handsome  h riding- 
net,  with  everything  befitting,  spends  his 
long  summer  day  whipping  a  trout  stream 
without  a  rise  or  even  a  ripple  to  reward 
him,  while  a  ragged  urchin,  with  a  willow 
wand  and  a  bent  pin,  not  ten  ya/ds  dis- 
tant, is  covering  the  greensward  with  my- 
riads of  speckled  and  scaly  br«cks,  from 
one  pound  weight  to  four  ;  so  it  is  in 
everything — "the  race  is  not  to  the 
swift  ;"  the  elements  of  success  in  life, 
whatever  be  the  object  of  pursuit,  are  very, 
very  different  from  what  we  think  of  them 
at  first  sight,  and  so  it  was  with  Mr. 
O'Leary,  and  I  have  more  than  once  wit- 
nessed the  triumph  of  his  homely  manner 
and  blunt  humor  over  the  more  polished 
and  well-bred  taste  of  his  competitors  for 
favor  ;  and  wdiat  might  have  been  the  limit 
to  such  success  Heaven  can  only  tell,  if  it 
were  not  that  he  labored  under  a  counter- 
balancing infirmity,  sufficient  to  have 
swamped  a  line-of-battle  ship  itself.  It 
was  simply  this — a  most  unfortunate  pro- 
pensity to  talk  of  the  wrong  place,  person, 
or  time,  in  any  society  he  found  himself: 
and  this  taste  for  the  mal  apropos  extend- 
ed so  far  that  no  one  ever  ventured  into 
company  with  him  as  his  friend  without 
trembling  for  the  result ;  but  even  this,  I 
believe  his  only  fault,  resulted  from  the 
natural  goodness  of  his  character  and  in- 
tentions ;  for,  believing,  as  he  did,  in  his 
honest  simplicity,  that  the  arbitrary  dis- 
tinctions of  class  and  rank  were  held  as 
cheaply  by  others  as  himself,  he  felt  small 
scruple  at  recounting  to  a  duchess  a  scene 
in  a  cabaret,  and  with  as  little  hesitation 
would  he,  if  asked,  have  sung  the  "  Cruis- 
keen  Lawn,"  o.  the  "Jug  of  Punch/'  af- 


W&  T\  ' 


fclM 


wm^ 


fiMM 


Af^y 


''  '  -PHOTO    euCCTRC.     CO.    H.Y. 


I   SAW   MY   FRIEND   O'LEART   ABOUT   TWELVE  FEET   FROM   THE   GROUND,    HANGING   ON  BY   SOME 
ASH   TWIGS  THAT   GREW   FROM  THE   CLEFTS   OF    THE   GRANITE.        (P.  16d.) 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


129 


ter  Lablache  hud  finished  the  "Al  Idea," 
from  Figaro.  Mauvaise  lionte,  he  had 
none  :  indeed,  I  am  not  sure  that  he  had 
any  kind  of  shame  whatever,  except  pos- 
sibly, when  detected  with  a  coat  that  bore 
any  appearance  of  newness,  or  if  over-per- 
suaded to  wear  gloves,  which  he  ever  con- 
sidered as  a  special  effeminacy. 

Such  was  he,  and  how  far  he  insinuated 
himself  int,o  their  good  graces,  let  the  tact 
tell,  that  on  my  return  to  the  breakfast- 
room,  after  about  an  hour's  absence,  I 
heard  him  detailing  the  particulars  of  a 
route  they  were  to  take  by  his  advice,  and 
also  learned  that  he  had  been  offered,  and 
had  accepted,  a  seat  in  their  carriage  to 
Paris. 

"  Then  I'll  do  myself  the  pleasure  of 
joining  your'  party,  Mrs.  Bingham,"  said 
he.  "  Bingham,  I  think,  madam,  is  your 
name  ?" 

"'Yes,  sir." 

"  Any  relation,  may  I  ask,  of  a  most 
dear  friend  of  mine,  of  the  same  name, 
from  Currynaslattery,  in  the  county  of 
Wexford  ?  " 

"lam  really  not  aware,"  said  Mrs.  Bing- 
ham. "  My  husband's  family  are,  I  believe, 
many  of  them  from  that  county." 

"  Ah,  what  a  pleasant  fellow  was  Tom ! " 
said  Mr.  O'Leary,  musingly  and  with  that 
peculiar  tone  which  made  me  tremble,  for 
I  knew  well  that  a  reminiscence  was  com- 
ing.    "  A  pleasant  fellow,  indeed." 

"  Is  he  alive,  sir,  now  ?" 

"I  believe  so,  ma'am  ;  but  I  hear  the 
climate  does  not  agree  with  him." 

"  Ah,  then,  he's  abroad,  In  Italy,  prob- 
ably ?" 

"  No,  ma'am,  in  Botany  Bay.  His  broth- 
er, they  say,  might  have  saved  him,  but  he 
left  poor  Tom  to  his  fate;  for  he  was  just 
then  paying  his  court  to  a  Miss  Crow,  I 
think,  with  a  large  fortune.  Oh,  Lord  ! 
what  have  I  said  ! — it's  always  the  luck  of 
me  !  "  The  latter  exclamation  was  the  re- 
sult of  a  heavy  plump  upon  the  floor,  Mrs. 
Bingham  having  fallen  in  a  faint — she  be- 
ing the  identical  lady  alluded  to,  and  her 
husband  the  brother  of  pleasant  Tom 
Bingham. 

To  hurl  Mr.  O'Leary  out  of  the  room  by 
one  hand,  and  ring  the  bell  with  the  other, 
was  the  work  of  a  moment ;  and,  with 
proper  care,  and  in  due  time,  Mrs.  Bing- 
ham was  brought  to  herself,  when,  most 
fortunately,  she  entirely  forgot  the  cause 
of  her  sudden  indisposition,  and,  of  course, 
neither  her  daughter  nor  myself  suffered 
any  clue  to  escape  us  which  might  lead  to 
its  discovery. 

When  we  were  once  more  upon  the  road, 
vol.  i. — 9 


to  efface,  if  it  might  be  /,  anyun- 

pleasani  recurrence  to  I  he  la  e  scene,  i  pro- 
ceeded to  give  Mrs.  Bingham  an  account 
of  my  adventure  at  Chantraine,  in  which, 
of  course,  I  endeavored  I  o  mj  friend 

O'Leary  all  the  honors  of  being  laughed  at 
in  preference  bo  myself,  laj  ing  lil  i  le 
upon  ni\  masquerading  in  the  jack-boots. 

"You  arc  quite  right,"  said  O'Leary, 
joining  in  the  hearty  laugh  againsl  him, 
"quite  right,  1  was  always  a  very  heavy 
sleeper — indeed,  if  I  nrasn'1  1  wouldn't  be 
here  now,  I  raveling  about  en  garpon,  as  free 
as  air  ;  "  and  here  he  heaved  a  Bigh,  which, 
from  its  incongruity  with  his  jovial  look 
and  happy  expression,  threw  u.^  all  into  re- 
newed laughter. 

"Butwhy,  Mr.  O'Leary — what  can  your 
sleepiness  have  to  do  with  such  tender  rec- 
ollections, for  such,  I  am  sure,  that  sigh 
bespeaks  them  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  ma'am,  it  may  seem  strange,  but 
it  is,  nevertheless,  true,  if  it  were  not  for 
that  unfortunate  tendency,  1  should  now 
be  the  happy  possessor  of  a  most  accom- 
plished and  amiable  lady,  and  tight  hun- 
dred per  annum  three-and-a-half  per  cent, 
stock." 

"  You  overslept  yourself  on  the  wed- 
ding-day, I  suppose  ?" 

"  You  shall  hear,  ma'am  ;  the  story  is 
but  a  short  one:  It  is  now  about  eight 
years  ago,  I  was  rambling  through  the 
south  of  France,  and  had  just  reached 
Lyons,  where  the  confounded  pavement, 
that  sticks  up  like  pears  with  the  points 
upwards,  had  compelled  me  to  rest  some 
days  and  recruit;  for  this  purpose  I  in- 
stalled myself  in  the  pension  of  Madame 
Gourgeaud,  Eue  des  Pet  its  Cannes — a 
quiet  house,  where  we  dined  at  twelve,  ten 
in  number,  upon  about  two  pounds  of 
stewed  beef,  with  garlic  and  carrots,  a  light 
soup — being  the  water  which  accompanied 
the  same  to  render  it  tender  in  slewing — 
some  preserved  cherries,  and  an  omelet te, 
with  a  pint  bottle  of  Beaune — fane  qualiti, 
I  believe — a  species  of  pyroligneous  wine, 
made  from  the  vine-stalks,  but  pleasant  in 
summer  with  your  salad  ;  then,  we  played 
dominoes  in  the  evening,  or  whist  for  sou 
points,  leading  altogether  a  very  quiet  and 
virtuous  existence,  or,  as  Madame  herself 
expressed  it,  'une  vie  tout-fc-fai{  patriar- 
chale;'  of  this  I  cannot  myself  affirm  how 
far  she  was  right  in  supposing  the  patri- 
archs did  exactly  like  us.  But  to  proceed  : 
in  the  same  establishment  there  lived  a 
widow,  an  Englishwoman,  whose  late  hus- 
band had  been  a  wine  merchant  at  Dijon  ; 
he  had  also,  I  suppose  from  residing  in  that 
country,  been  imitating  the  patriarchs,  for 


130 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


he  died  one  day.  Well,  the  lady  was 
delayed  at  Lyons  for  some  law  business, 
and  thus  it  came  about  that  her  husband's 
testament  and  the  sharp  paving-stones  in 
the  streets  determined  that  we  should  he 
acquainted.  1  cannot  express  to  you  the 
delight  of  my  fair  countrywoman  at  find- 
ing that  a  person  who  spoke  English  had 
arrived  at  the  pension,  a  feeling  I  myself 
somewhat  participated  in;  for,  to  say 
truth,  I  was  not  at  that  time  a  very  great 
proficient  in  French.  We  soon  became  in- 
timate, in  less  time,  probably,  than  it  could 
otherwise  have  happened  ;  for,  from  the 
ignorance  of  all  the  others  of  one  word  of 
English,  I  was  enabled,  during  dinner,  to 
say  many  soft  and  tender  things,  which 
one  does  not  usually  venture  on  in  com- 
pany. 

"  I  recounted  my  travels,  and  told 
various  adventures  of  my  wanderings,  till 
at  last,  from  being  merely  amused,  I  found 
that  my  fair  friend  began  to  be  interested 
in  my  narratives  ;  and  frequently,  when 
passing  the  bouillon  to  her,  I  have  seen 
a  tear  in  the  corner  of  her  eye  ;  in  a  word, 
'  she  loved  me  for  the  dangers  I  had  pass- 
ed,' as  Othello  says.  Well,  laugh  away 
if  you  like,  but  it's  truth  I  am  telling 
you."  At  this  part  of  Mr.  O'Leary's story 
we  all  found  it  impossible  to  withstand 
the  ludicrous  mock-heroic  of  his  face  and 
tone,  and  laughed  loud  and  long.  When 
we  at  length  became  silent  he  resumed  : 
"  Before  three  weeks  had  passed  over,  I 
Lad  proposed  and  was  accepted,  just  your 
own  way  Mr.  Lorrequcr,  taking  the  ball  at 
the  hop,  the  very  same  way  you  did  at 
Cheltenham,  the  time  the  lady  jilted  you, 
and  ran  off  with  your  friend  Mr.  Waller ; 
I  read  it  all  in  the  news,  though  I  was 
then  in  Norway,  fishing,"  Here  there  was 
another  interruption  by  a  laugh,  not,  how- 
ever, at  Mr.  O'Leary's  expense.  I  gave 
him  a  most  menacing  look,  while  he  con- 
tinued :  "  The  settlements  were  soon  drawn 
up,  and  consisted,  like  all  great  diplomatic 
documents,  of  a  series  of  '  gains  and  com- 
pensations ; '  thus,  she  was  not  to  taste 
anything  stronger  than  kirschwasse,  or 
Nantz  brandy:  and  I  limited  myself  to  a 
pound  of  short-cut  weekly,  and  so  on. 
But  to  proceed  :  the  lady  being  a  good 
Oatholic,  insisted  upon  being  married  by 
6'.  priest  of  her  own  persuasion,  before  the 
performance  of  the  ceremony  at  the 
British  embassy  in  Paris  ;  to  this  I  could 
offer  no  objection,  and  we  were  accordingly 
united  in  the  holy  bonds  the  same  morning 
after  signing  the  law  papers." 

"  Then  Mr.  O'Leary,  you  are  really  a 
married  man." 


"  That's  the  very  point  I'm  coming  to, 
ma'am  ;  for  I've  consulted  all  the  jurists 
upon  the  subject,  and  they  never  cm  agree. 
But  you  shall  hear.  I  dispatched  a  polite 
note  to  Bishop  Luscombe,  and  made  every 
arrangement  for  the  approaching  cere- 
mony, took  a  quarter  in  the  Rue  du  Hel- 
der,  near  the  Estaminet.  and  looked  for- 
ward with  anxiety  for  the  day  which  was 
to  make  me  happy,  for  our  marriage  in 
Lyons  was  only  a  kind  of  betrothal.  Now, 
my  fair  friend  had  but  one  difficulty  re- 
maining, poor  dear  soul — 1  refrain  from 
mentioning  her  name  for  delicacy  sake- 
hut  poor  dear  Mrs.  Bam  could  not  bear 
the  notion  of  our  going  up  to  Paris  in  the 
same  conveyance,  for  long  as  she  had  lived 
abroad,  she  had  avoided  everything  French, 
even  the  language  ;  so  she  proposed  that  I 
should  go  in  the  early  diligence,  which 
starts  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
while  she  took  her  departure  at  nine; 
thus  I  should  be  some  hours  sooner  in 
Paris,  and  ready  to  receive  her  on  her  ar- 
riving ;  besides  sparing  her  bashfulness 
all  reproach  of  our  traveling  together.  It 
was  no  use  my  telling  her  that  I  always 
traveled  on  foot,  and  hated  a  diligence  J 
she  cooly  replied  that  at  our  time  of  life, 
we  could  not  spare  the  time  necessary  for 
a  pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem,  for  so  she  sup- 
posed the  journey  from  Lyons  to  Paris  to 
be  ;  so  fearing  lest  any  doubt  might  be 
thrown  upon  the  ardor  of  my  attach- 
ment, I  yielded  at  once,  remembering  at 
the  moment  what  my  poor  friend  Tom 
Bing Oh,  Lord,  I'm  at  it  again  !  " 

"  Sir,  I  did  not  hear." 

"Nothing,  ma'am  ;  I  was  just  going  to 
observe,  that  ladies  of  a  certain  time  of 
life,  and  widows  especially,  like  a  lover 
that  seems  a  little  ardent  or  so,  all  the  bet- 
ter." Here  Mrs.  Bingham  blushed,  her 
daughter  bridled,  and  I  nearly  suffo- 
cated with  shame  and  suppressed  laughter. 

"  After  a  most  tender  farewell  of  my 
bride,  or  wife,  I  don't  know  which.  I  re- 
tired for  the  night  with  a  mind  vacillating 
between  my  hopes  of  happiness  and  my 
fears  for  the  result  of  a  journey  so  foreign 
to  all  my  habits  of  traveling,  and  in  which 
I  could  not  but  tremble  at  the  many  casu- 
alties my  habitual  laziness  and  dislike  to 
any  hours  but  my  own  choosing  might  in 
volve  me  in. 

"I  had  scarcely  lain  down  in  bed,  ere 
these  thoughts  took  such  possession  of  me, 
that  sleep  for  once  in  my  life  was  out  of  the 
question  ;  and  then  the  misery  of  getting 
up  at  four  in  the  morning,  putting  on 
your  clothes  by  the  flickering  light  of  the 
porter's  candle,  getting  your  boots  on  the 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


131 


wrong  feet,  and  all  that  kind  of  annoj 
ance,  I  am  sure  I  fretted  myself  into  the 
feeling  of  a  downright  martyr  before  an 
hour  was  over.  '  Well,  at  least,'  thought 
I,  'one  thing  is  well  done:  I  have  beer 
quite  right  in  coming  to  sleep  at  the  Mes- 
sageries  Hold,  where  the  diligence  starts 
from,  or  the  chances  are  ten  to  one  that  I 
never  should  wake  till  the  time  was  past. 
Now,  however,  they  are  sure  to  call  me  ; 
sol  may  sleep  tranquilly  till  then.'  Mean- 
while 1  had  forgotten  to  pack  my  trunk  ; 
and  my  papers,  etc.,  laying  all  about  the 
room  in  a  state  of  considerable  confusion. 
I  rose  at  once  with  all  the  despatch  I  could 
muster  ;  this  took  a  long  time  to  effect, 
and  it  was  nearly  two  o'clock  ere  1  finish- 
ed, and  sat  down  to  smoke  a  solitary  pipe, 
the  last,  as  I  supposed,  it  might  be  my  lot 
to  enjoy  for  Heaven  knows  how  long,  Mrs. 
R.  having  expressed,  rather  late  in  our  in- 
timacy, I  confess,  strong  opinions  against 
tobacco  within  doors. 

"  When  I  had  finished  my  little  sac  of 
the  'weed,'  the  clock  struck  three,  and  I 
started  to  think  how  little  time  I  was 
destined  to  have  in  bed.  In  bed!  'Why,' 
said  I,  '  there  is  no  use  thinking  of  it  now, 
for  I  shall  scarcely  have  lain  down  ere  I 
shall  be  obliged  to  get  up  again.'  So 
thinking,  I  set  about  dressing  myself  for 
the  road,  and  as  the  season  was  winter  and 
the  weather  dreadfully  severe,  took  care  to 
array  myself  in  all  the  covering  I  could 
lay  hands  upon  ;  and  by  the  time  I  had 
enveloped  myself  in  a  pair  of  long  Hunga- 
rian gaiters,  arid  a  kurtcha  of  sheep's-wool, 
with  a  brown  bearskin  outside,  with  a 
Welsh  wig,  and  a  pair  of  large  dark  glass 
goggles  to  defend  the  eyes  from  the  snow, 
I  was  not  only  perfectly  impervious  to  all 
effects  of  the  weather,  but  so  thoroughly 
defended  from  any  influence  of  sight  or 
sound,  that  a  volcano  might  be  hissing 
and.  thundering  within  ten  yards  of  me, 
without  attracting  my  slightest  attention. 
Now,  I  thought,  instead  of  remaining  here 
I'll  just  step  down  to  the  coach,  and  get 
snugly  into  the  diligence,  and  having 
secured  the  corner  of  the  coupe,  resign 
myself  to  sleep  with  the  certainty  of  not 
being  left  behind,  and  probably,  too,  be 
some  miles  on  my  journey  before  awak- 
ing. 

"I  accordingly  went  downstairs,  and  to 
my  surprise  found  even  at  that  early  hour, 
that  many  of  the  garcons  of  the  house 
were  stirring  and  bustling  aboitt,  getting 
all  the  luggage  up  in  the  huge  Avooden 
leviathan  that  was  to  convey  us  on  our 
road.  There  they  stood,  like  bees  around 
a  hive,  clustering  and  buzzing,  and  all  so 


engaged,  thai  with  difficulty  could  I  get 
an  answer  to  my  question  of  what  dili- 
gence  it.   was.      *  La  diligence  pour  Paris, 

.Monsieur.' 

"  '  All,     all      right      tie  I!."      -aid      I  ;     so, 

watching  an  opportunity  to  do  30  unob- 
served, for  I  supposed  the}  might  have 
laughed  at,  me.  !  stepped  quiel  ly  into  the 
coupe,  and  amid  the  creaking  of  cordage 

and  the  t  humping  of    feet   on   the  root',  fell 

as  sound  asleep  as  ever  1  did  in  my  life', 
these  sounds  coming  to  m\  muffled   ears 

soft,  as  the  echoes  on  lie'  1,'liine.  When  it, 
was  that  1  awoke  I  cannot  say;  but  a-  I 
rubbed    my  eves    and   yawned    after  a  most 

refreshing  sleep,   I   perceiv*  d   t  hat   it   was 

still  quite  dark  all  around,  and  that  the 
diligence  was  standing  before  the  door  of 
some  inn,  and  not  ino\  ing.  '  Ah.'  t  hought 
I,  "this  is  the  first  stage;  how  naturally 
one  always  wakes  at  the  change  of  horses, 
a  kind  of  instinct  implanted  by  Provi- 
dence, I  suppose,  to  direct  us  to  a  little  re- 
freshment on  the  road/  With  these  pious 
feelings  I  let,  down  the  glass,  and  called 
out  to  the garcon  for  a  glass  of  brandy  and 
a  cigar.  While  he  was  bringing  them,  1 
had  time  to  look -about,  and  perceived,  to 
my  very  great  delight,  that  I  had  the  whole 
coupe  to  myself.  'Are  there  any  passen- 
gers coming  in  here?'  said  I,  as  the 
waiter  came  forward  with  my  liquor.  'I 
should  think  not,  sir,'  said  the  fellow  with 
a  leer.  'Then  I  shall  have  the  whole 
coupe  to  myself  ?'  said  I.  '  .Monsieur  need 
have  no  fear  of  being  disturbed;  I  can 
safely  assure  him  that  he  will  have  no  one 
there  for  the  next  twenty-four  hours.' 
This  was  really  pleasant  intelligence  ;  so  I 
chucked  him  a  ten-sou  piece,  and  closing 
up  the  window  as  the  morning  was  cold, 
once  more  lay  back  to  sleep  with  a  success 
th,at  lias  never  failed  me.  It  was  to  a 
bright  blue  cloudless  sky.  and  the  sharp 
clear  air  of  a  fine  day  in  winter,  that  I  at 
length  opened  my  eyes.  I  pulled  out  my 
watch,  and  discovered  it  was  exactly  two 
o'clock  ;  I  next  lowered  the  glass  and 
looked  about  me.  and  very  much  to  my 
Surprise  discovered  that  the  diligence  was 
not  moving,  but  standing  very  peaceably 
in  a  very  crowded  congregation  of  other 
similar  and  dissimilar  conveyances,  all  of 
which  seemed,  I  thought,  to  labor  under 
some  physical  ailment,  some  wanting  a 
box,  others  a  body,  etc..  etc.,  and,  in  fact, 
suggesting  the  idea  of  an  infirmary  for  old 
and  disabled  carriages  of  either  sex,  mails 
and  others.  fOh,  I  have  it.'  cried  I,  'we 
are  arrived  at  Mont-G6ran,  and  they  are  all 
at  dinner,  and  from  my  being  alone  in  the 
coupe,  they  have  forgotten  to  call  me.'     I 


132 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


immediately  opened  the  door  and  stepped 
out  into  the  inn-yard,  crowded  with  con- 
ducteurs,  grooms,  and  ostlers,  avIio,  I 
thought,  looked  rather  surprised  at  seeing 
me  emerge  from  the  diligence. 

"'Yon  did  not  know  I  was  there?' 
said  I,  with  a  knowing  wink  at  one  of 
them  as  I  passed. 

" ( Assurement  non,'  said,  the  fellow 
with  a  laugh,  that  was  the  signal  for  all 
the  others  to  join  in  it.  'Is  the  table 
d'hote  over?'  said  I,  regardless  of  the 
mirth  around  me.  'Monsieur  is  just  in 
time,'  said  the  waiter,  who  happened  to 
pass  with  a  soup-tureen  in  his  hand. 
'  Have  the  goodness  to  step  this  way.'  I 
had  barely  time  to  remark  the  close  re- 
semblance of  the  waiter  to  the  fellow  who 
presented  me  with  my  brandy  and  cigar  in 
the  morning,  when  he  ushered  me  into  a 
large  room,  with  about  forty  persons  sit- 
ting at  a  long  table,  evidently  waiting 
with  impatience  for  the  potage  to  begin 
their  dinner.  Whether  it  was  they  en- 
joyed the  joke  of  having  neglected  to  call 
me,  or  that  they  were  laughing  at  my 
traveling  costume,  1  cannot  say,  but  the 
momeut  I  came  in,  I  could  perceive  a 
general  titter  run  through  the  assem- 
bly. 'Not  too  late,  after  all,  gentle 
men,'  said  I,  marching  gravely  up  to  the 
table. 

"'Monsieur  is  in  excellent  time,' said 
the  host,  making  room  for  me  beside  his 
chair.  Notwithstanding  the  incumbrance 
of  my  weighty  habliments,  I  proceeded  to 
do  ample  justice  to  the  viands  before  me, 
apologizing  laughingly  to  the  host,  by 
pleading  a  traveler's  appetite. 

"'Then  you  have,  perhaps,  come  far 
this  morning,'  said  a  gentleman  opposite. 

'  "  '  Yes,'  said  I,  'I  have  been  on  tlte  road 
since  four  o'clock.' 

"'And  how  are  the  roads?'  said  an- 
other. 'Very  bad,' said  I,  'the  first  few 
stages  from  Lyons,  afterwards  much  bet- 
ter.' This  was  said  at  a  venture,  as  I  be- 
gan to  be  ashamed  of  being  always  asleep 
before  my  fellow-travelers.  They  did  not 
seem,  however,  to  understand  me  perfect- 
ly;  and  one  old  fellow,  putting  down  his 
spectacles  from  his  forehead,  leaned  over 
and  said:  'And  where,  may  1  ask,  has 
Monsieur  come  from  this  morning  ?  ' 

"'From  Lyons,'  said  I,  with  the  proud 
air  of  a  man  who  has  done  a  stout  feat,  and 
is  not  ashamed  of  the  exploit. 

"  '  From  Lyons  ! '  said  one.  '  From 
Lyons  !  *  cried  another.  '  From  Lyons  ! ' 
repeated  a  third. 

"  '  Yes,'  said  I  ;  'what  the  devil  is  so 
strange  in  it  ?     Traveling  is  so  quick  now- 


a-days,  one  thinks  nothing  of  twenty 
leagues  before  dinner.' 

"The  infernal  shout  of  laughing  that 
followed  my  explanation  is  still  in  my  ears. 
From  one  end  of  the  table  to  the  other 
there  was  one  continued  ha,  ha.  ha  ! — from 
the  greasy  host  to  the  little  hunchbacked 
waiter,  they  were  all  grinning  away. 

"  '  And  how  did  Monsieur  travel  ?'  said 
the  old  gentleman,  who  seemed  to  carry  on 
the  prosecution  againsl  me. 

"  '  in  the  coupe  of  the  Aigle  noir,'  said  I, 
giving  the  name  with  some  pride  that  I 
was  not  altogether  ignorant  of  the  convey- 
ance. 

'• '  Then  you  should  certainly  not  com- 
plain of  the  roads,'  said  the  host,  chuck- 
ling ;  'for  the  only  journey  that  diligence 
has  made  this  day  has  been  from  the  street- 
door  to  the  inn-yard  ;  for  as  they  found 
when  the  luggage  was  nearly  packed  that 
the  axle  was  almost  broken  through,  they 
wheeled  it  round  to  the  cour,  and  prepared 
another  for  the  travelers.' 

"  'And  where  am  I  now  ? '  said  I. 

"  '  In  Lyons,'  said  twenty  voices,  half 
choked  with  laughter  at  my  question. 

"  I  was  thunderstruck  at  the  news  at 
first  ;  but  as  I  proceeded  with  my  dinner  I 
joined  in  the  mirth  of  the  party,  which  cer- 
tainly was  not  diminished  on  my  telling 
them  the  object  of  my  intended  jour- 
ney. 

"  .'  I  think,  young  man,'  said  the  old  fel- 
low with  the  spectacles,  'that  you  should 
take  the  occurrence  as  a  warning  of  Prov- 
idence that  marriage  will  not  suit  you.'  I 
began  to  be  of  the  same  opinion  ; — but  then 
there  was  the  jointure.  To  be  sure,  I  was 
to  give  up  tobacco  ;  and,  perhaps,  I  should 
not  be  as  free  to  ramble  about  as  when  a 
garcon.  So,  taking  all  things  into  consid- 
eration, I  ordered  in  another  bottle  of  Bur- 
gundy, to  drink  Mrs.  Lam's  health — got 
my  passport  vised  for  Bareges — and  set  out 
for  the  Pyrenees  the  same  evening." 

"  And  have  you  never  heard  anything 
more  of  the  lady  ?"  said  Mrs.  Bingham. 

"  Oh,  yes.  She  was  faithful  to  the  last  ; 
for  I  found  out  when  at  Rome  last  winter 
that  she  had  offered  a  reward  for  me  in 
the  newspapers,  and  indeed  had  commenc- 
ed a  regular  pursuit  of  me  through  the 
whole  Continent.  And  to  tell  the  real  fact, 
I  should  not  now  fancy  turning  my  steps 
towards  Paris,  if  I  had  not  very  tolerable 
information  that  she  is  in  full  cry  after  me 
through  the  Wengen  Alps,  I  having  con- 
trived a  paragraph  in  Galignani,  to  seduce 
her  thither,  and  where,  with  the  blessing 
of  Providence,  if  the  snow  set  in  early,  she 
must  pass  the  winter." 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


133 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


Nothing  more  worthy  of  recording  oc- 
curred before  our  arrival  at  Meurices  on 
the  third  day  of  our  journey.  My  friend 
O'Leary  had,  with  his  usual  good  fortune, 
become  indispensable  to  his  new  acquaint- 
ance, and  it  was  not  altogether  without 
some  little  lurking  discontent  that  1  per- 
ceived how  much  less  often  my  services 
were  called  in  request  since  his  having 
joined  our  party;  his  informal  ion,  not- 
withstanding its  very  scanty  extent,  was 
continually  relied  upon,  and  his  very  imper- 
fect French  everlastingly  called  into  req- 
uisition to  interpret  a  question  for  the 
ladies.  "Yes,"  thought  I,  "'Othello's 
occupation's  gone' ;  one  of  two  things  has 
certainly  happened,  either  Mrs.  Bingham 
and  her  daughter  have  noticed  my  con- 
tinued abstraction  of  mind,  and  have  at- 
tributed it  to  the  real  cause,  the  preoccu- 
pation of  my  affections  ;  or  thinking,  on 
the  other  hand,  that  I  am  desperately  in 
love  with  one  or  other  of  them,  have 
thought  that  a  little  show  of  preference  to 
Mr.  O'Leary  may  stimulate  me  to  a  pro- 
posal at  once."  In  either  case  I  resolved 
to  lose  no  time  in  taking  my  leave,  which 
there  could  be  no  difficulty  in  doing  now, 
as  the  ladies  had  reached  their  intended 
destination,  and  had  numerous  friends  in 
Paris  to  advise  and  assist  them;  besides 
that  I  had  too  long  neglected  the  real  ob- 
ject of  my  trip,  and  should  lose  no  time  in 
finding  out  the  Oallonbys,  and  at  once 
learn  what  prospect  of  success  awaited  me 
in  that  quarter.  Leaving  my  fair  friends, 
then,  to  refresh  themselves  after  the  jour- 
ney, and  consigning  Mr.  O'Leary  to  the 
enjoyment  of  his  meerschaum,  through  the 
aid  of  which  he  had  rendered  his  apart- 
ment like  a  Dutch  swamp  in  autumn,  the 
only  portion  of  his  own  figure  visible 
through  the  mist  being  his  short  legs  and 
heavy  shoes,  I  set  forth  at  last. 

On  reaching  the  house  in  the  Rue  de  la 
Paix,  where  the  Oallonbys  had  resided,  I 
learned  that  they  were  still  at  Baden,  and 
were  not  expected  in  Paris  for  some 
weeks;  that  Lord  Kilkee  had  arrived  that 
morning,  and  was  then  dining  at  the  Em- 
bassy, having  left  an  invitation  for  me  to 
dine  with  him  on  the  following  day,  if  I 
happened  to  call.  As  I  turned  from  the 
door,  uncertain  whither  to  direct  my  steps, 
I  walked  on  unconsciously  towards  the 
Boulevard,  and,  occupied  as  I  was,  think- 
ing over  all  the  chances  before  me,  did  not 
perceive  where  I  stood  till  the  bright  glare 


of  a  large  gas-lamp  over  my  head  appi 

mi'  that  I    was   at,   the  door  of  tin-  well- 
known  Salmi  des  Etrangers,  at,  the  corner 
of  the  Rue  Richelieu  ;  car 
and   vigilantes    were    crowding,    crashing, 

and  clal  tering  on  all  .-id. 
fashion  and  the  gaming-table  were  hasten- 
ing to  their  champ  de  bataille.  No;  • 
a  member  of  the  Salon,  and  having  little 
disposil  ion  io  enter,  if  I  had  been,  I  stood 
for  some  minutes  looking  a1  'lie  crowd  as 
it  continued  to  press  on  toward.-  tin-  splen- 
did and  brilliantly  lighted  -lairs  which  led 
from  the  vcrj  street  lo  I  he  rooms  of  this 
palace,  for  such,  in  the  magnificence  and 
luxury  of  its  decorations,  it  really  was.  As 
1  was  on  the  very  eve  of  turning  awa<  .  I 
large  and  very  handsome  cab-horse  tm 
the  corner  from  the  Boulevard,  with  the 
most  perfect  appointment  of  harness  and 
carriage  1  had  seen  for  a  long  time. 

While  I  continued  to  admire  the  tasfe 
and  propriety  of  the  equipage,  a  young 
man  in  deep  mourning  sprang  from  the 
inside  and  stood  upon  the  pavement  be- 
fore me.  "A  deux  hetires,  Charles,"  said 
he  to  his  servant,  as  the  cab  turned  .-lowly 
round.  .The  voice  struck  me  as  well 
known.  I  waited  till  he  approach*  d  the 
lamp,  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  face  :  and 
what  was  my  surprise  to  recognize  my 
cousin,  Guy  Lorrequer,  of  the  10th,  whom 
1  had  not  met  with  for  six  years  ago.  My 
first  impulse  was  not  to  make  myself 
known  to  him.  Our  mutual  position  with 
regard  to  Lady  Jane  was  so  much  a  mys- 
tery, as  regarded  myself,  that  1  feared  the 
result  of  any  meeting,  until  I  was  sufli- 
ciently  aware  of  how  matters  stood,  and 
whether  we  were  to  meet  as  friends  and 
relations,  or  rivals,  and  consequently  ene- 
mies. 

Before  I  had  time  to  take  my  resolu- 
tion, Guy  had  recognized  me,  and  seizing 
me  by  the  hand  witli  both  his,  cal 
"Harry,  my  old  friend,  how  are  you? 
How  long  have  you  been  here  ?  And 
never  to  call  on  me  !  Why,  man.  what  is 
the  meaning  of  this  ?  "  Before  1  had  time 
to  say  that  I  was  only  a  few  hours  in  Paris, 
he  again  interrupted  me  by  saving  :  "  And 
howcomes  it  that  yon  are  not  in  mourn- 
ing ':  You  must  surely  have  heard  it." 
'•Heard  what  i"'  1  cried,  nearly  hoarse 
from  agitation.  "Our  poor  old  friend, 
Sir  Guy.  didn't  you  know,  is  dead."'  Only 
those  who  have  felt  how  strong  the  ties  of 
kindred  areas  they  decrease  in  number, 
can  tell  how  this  news  fell  upon  my  heart. 
All  my  poor  uncle's  kindnesses  came  full 
upon  my  memory  ;  his  affectionate  letters 
of   advice  ;   his    well-meant  chidings,  too, 


.34 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


even  dearer  to  me  than  his  praise  and  ap- 
proval, completely  unmanned  me  ;  and  I 
stood  speechless  and  powerless  before  my 
cousin  as  he  continued  to  detail  to  me  the 
rapid  progress  of  Sir  Guy's  malady,  an  at- 
tack of  gout  in  the  head,  which  carried 
him  off  in  three  days.  Letters  had  beeu 
sent  to  me  in  different  places,  but  none 
reached  ;  and  at  the  very  moment  the 
clerk  of  my  uncle's  lawyer  was  in  pursuit 
of  me  through  the  Highlands,  where  some 
mistaken  information  had  induced  him  to 
follow  me. 

"You  are,  therefore,"  continued  Guy, 
"unaware  that  our  uncle  has  dealt  so  fair- 
ly by  you,  and,  indeed,  by  both  of  ns  ;  I 
have  got  the  Somersetshire  estates,  which 
go  Avith  the  baronetcy  ;  but  the  Cumber- 
land property  is  all  yours  ;  and  I  heartily 
wish  you  joy  of  having  nearly  eight  thou- 
sand per  annum,  and  one  of  the  sweetest 
villas  that  ever  man  fancied  on  Derwent- 
water.  But  come  along  here,"  continued 
he,  and  he  led  me  through  the  crowded 
corridor  and  up  the  wide  stair,  "  I  have 
much  to  tell  you,  and  we  can  be  perfectly 
alone  here  ;  no  one  will  trouble  themselves 
with  us."  Unconscious  of  all  around  me, 
I  followed  Guy  along  the  gilded  and  glit- 
tering lobby,  which  led  to  the  salon,  and 
it  was  only  as  the  servant  in  rich  livery 
came  forward  to  take  my  hat  and  cane  that 
I  remembered  where  I  was.  Then  the  full 
sense  of  all  I  had  been  listening  to  rushed 
upon  me,  and  the  unfitness,  and  indeed  the 
indecency  of  the  place  for  'such  communi- 
cations as  we  were  engaged  in,  came  most 
forcibly  before  me.  Sir  Guy,  it  is  true, 
had  always  perferred  my  cousin  to  me  ;  he 
it  was  who  was  always  destined  to  succeed 
both  to  his  title  and  his  estates,  and  his 
wildness  and  extravagance  had  ever  met 
with  a  milder  rebuke  and  weaker  chastise- 
ment than  my  follies  and  my  misfortunes. 
Yet  still  he  was  my  last  remaining  relative; 
the  only  one  I  possessed  in  all  the  world  to 
whom  in  any  difficulty  or  trial  I  had  to  look 
up ;  and  I  felt,  in  the  very  midst  of  my 
newly  acquired  wealth  and  riches,  poorer 
and  more  alone  than  ever  I  had  done  in  my 
lifetime.  I  followed  Guy  to  a  small  and 
dimly  lighted  cabinet  off  the  great  salon, 
where,  having  seated  ourselves,  he  proceed- 
ed to  detail  to  me  the  various  events  which 
a  few  short  weeks  had  accomplished.  Of 
himself  he  spoke  but  little,  and  never  once 
alluded  to  the  Callonbys  at  all  ;  indeed,  all 
I  could  learn  was  that  he  had  left  the 
army,  and  purposed  remaining  for  the  win- 
ter at  Paris,  where  he  appeared  to  have  en- 
tered into  all  its  gaiety  and  dissipation  at 
once. 


"  Of  course,"  said  he,  "you  will  give  up 
'sodgering'  now  ;  at  the  best  it  is  but  poor 
sport  after  five-and-twenty,  and  is  perfect- 
ly unendurable  when  a,  man  has  the  means 
of  pushing  himself  in  the  gay  world  ;  and 
now,  Harry,  let  us  mix  a  little  among  the 
mob  here;  for  Messieurs  Us  Banquiers 
don't  hold  people  in  estimation  who  come 
here  only  for  the  chapons  au  viz,  and  the 
champagne  frappe,  as  we  should  seem  to 
do  were  we  to  stay  here  much  longer." 

Such  was  the  whirl  of  my  thoughts,  and 
so  great  the  confusion  in  my  ideas  from  all 
I  had  just  heard,  that  I  felt  myself  implic- 
itly following  every  direction  of  my  cousin 
with  a  child-like  obedience,  of  the  full  ex- 
tent of  which  I  became  only  conscious 
when  I  found  myself  seated  at  the  table  of 
the  salon,  between  my  cousin  Guy  and  an 
old,  harcl-visaged,  pale- countenanced  man, 
who  he  told  me  in  a  whisper  was  Polignac 
the  Minister. 

What  a  study  for  the  man  who  would 
watch  the  passions  and  emotions  of  his  fel- 
low-men, would  the  table  of  a  range  etnoir 
gambling-house  present — the  skill  and  dex- 
terity which  games  of  other  kinds  require 
being  here  wanting,  leave  the  player  free 
to  the  full  abandonment  of  the  passion. 
The  interest  is  not  a  gradually  increasing 
or  vacillating  one,  as  fortune  and  knowl- 
edge of  the  game  favor ;  the  result  is  un- 
influenced by  anything  of  his  doing;  with 
the  last  turned  card  of  the  croupier  is  he 
rich  or  ruined  ;  and  thus  in  the  very  ab- 
straction of  the  anxiety  is  this  the  most 
painfully  exciting  of  all, gambling  what- 
ever ;  the  very  rattle  of  the  dice-box  to  the 
hazard-player  is  a  relief  ;  and  the  thought 
that  he  is  in  some  way  instrumental  to  his 
good  or  bad  fortune  gives  a  turn  to  his 
thoughts.  There  is  something  so  like  the 
inevitable  character  of  fate  associated  with 
the  result  of  a  chance,  which  you  can  in  no 
way  affect  or  avert,  that  I  have,  notwith- 
standing a  strong  bias  for  play,  ever  dread- 
ed and  avoided  the  range  etnoir  table.  Hith- 
erto prudential  motives  had  their  share  in 
the  resolve  ;  a  small  loss  at  play  becomes  a 
matter  of  importance  to  a  sub.  in  a  march- 
ing regiment ;  and,  therefore,  I  was  firm 
in  my  determination  to  avoid  the  gam- 
bling-table. Now,  my  fortunes  were  altered ; 
and  as  I  looked  at  the  heap  of  shining  louis 
d'or,  which  Guy  pushed  before  me  in  ex- 
change for  a  billet  dc  banque  of  large 
amount,  I  felt  the  full  importance  of  my 
altered  position,  mingling  with  the  old  and 
long-practised  prejudices  which  years  had 
been  accumulating  to  fix;.  There  is,  be- 
sides, some  wonderful  fascination  to  most 
men  in  the  very  aspect  of  high  play  ;  to 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


135 


pit  your  fortune  against  that  of  anol  her — 
to  see  whether  or  not  your  hick  shall  aol 
exceed  someother's — are  feelings  that  have 
a  place  in  most,  bosoms,  and  are  certainly, 
if  not  naturally  existing,  most  easily  gen- 
erated in  the  bustle  and  excitement  of  the 
gambling-house.  The  .splendor  of  the  dec- 
orations^—thr  rich  profusion  of  gilded  orna- 
ments—the large  and.  gorgeously  Trained 
mirrors — the  sparkling  lustres,  mingling 
their 'effect  with  the  perfumed  air  of  the 
apartment,  filled  with  orange-trees  and 
other  aromatic  shrubs — the  dress  of  the 
company,  among  whom  were  many  ladies 
in  costumes  not  inferior  to  those  of  a  court 
— the  glitter  of  diamonds — the  sparkle  of 
stars  and.  decorations,  rendered  more  mag- 
ical by  knowing  that  the  wearers  were 
names  in  history.  There,  with  his  round 
but  ample  shoulder,  and  large  massive 
head,  covered  with  long  snow-white  hair, 
stands  one,  the  maker  and  unmaker  of 
kings,  watching  with  a  look  of  ill-concealed 
anxiety  the  progress  of  his  game.  Here  is 
Soult,  with  his  dogged  look  and  beetle 
brow  ;  there  stands  Balzac,  the  author  ;  his 
gains  here  are  less  derived  from  the  betting 
than  the  bettors;  he  is  evidently  "mak- 
ing his  own"  of  some  of  them,  while  in  the 
seeming  bonhomie  of  his  careless  manner 
and  easy  abandon,  they  scruple  not  to 
trust  him  with  anecdotes  and  traits,  that 
from  the  crucible  of  his  fiery  imagination 
come  forth  like  the  purified  gold  from  the 
furnace.  And  there,  look  at  that  old  and 
weather-beaten  man, 'with  gray  eye-brows 
and  mustachios,  who  throws  from  the 
breast  pocket  of  his  frock,  ever  and  anon, 
a  handful  of  gold  pieces  upon  the  table  ; 
he  evidently  neither  knows  nor  cares  for  the 
amount,  for  the  banker  himself  is  obliged 
to  count  over  the  stake  for  him — that  is 
Blucher,  the  never-wanting  attendant  at 
the  salon ;  he  has  been  an  immense  loser, 
but  plays  on,  and,  with  the  same  stern  per- 
severance with  which  he  would  pour  his 
bold  cavalry  through  a  ravine  torn  by  artil- 
lery, he  stands  by  the  still  waning  chance 
with  a  courage  that  never  falters. 

One  strong  feature  of  the  leveling  char- 
acter of  a  taste  for  play  has  never  ceased 
to  impress  me  most  forcibly — not  onlv  do 
the  individual  peculiarities  of  the  man 
give  way  before  the  all-absorbing  passion* 
but,  stranger  still,  the  very  boldest  traits 
of  nationality  even  fade  and  disappear  be- 
fore it ;  and  man  seems,  under  the  high- 
pressure  power  of  this  greatest  of  all  stim- 
ulants, resolved  into  a  most  abstract  state. 

Among  all  the  traits  which  distinguish 
Frenchmen  from  natives  of  every  country, 
none   is   more   prominent  than  a  kind   of 


uever-failing  elasticity  of  temperament, 
which  seems  almost  to  defy  all  the  power 
of  misfort  line  to  depress.  Let  whal  1 
happen,  the  Frenchman  seems  to  [ 
some  strong  resource  within  himself,  in 
his  ardent  temperament,  upon   which  he 

can  draw  at  will  ;  and   u  nether  on  the  day 

alter  a  defeat  —  the  moment  of  being  de- 
ceived in  his  strongest  hopes  of  returned 
affection  —  the  overthrow  of  some  long- 
cherished  wish— ii  matters  not, —  he  I 
gives  way  entirely:  bill  Bee  him  at  the 
gaming-table — watch  the  intense,  the  ach- 
ing anxiety  with  which  !  ollows 
every  card  as  it  falls  from  the  hand  of  the 
croupier — behold  the  look  of  cold  despair 
that  tracks  his  stake  as  the  banker  rakes 
it  in  among  his  gain.— and  you  will  at 
once  perceive  that  here,  at  least,  his  wont- 
ed powers  fail  him.  .No  jest  escapes  the 
lips  of  one  that  would  joke  upon  the  steps 
of  the  guillotine.  The  mocker  who  would 
jeer  at  the  torments  of  revolution  stands 
like  a  coward  quailing  before  the  impassive 
eye  and  pale  cheek  of  a  croupier.  While 
I  continued  to  occupy  myself  by  observing 
the  different  groups  about  me,  I  had  been 
almost  mechanically  following  the  game, 
placing  at  each  deal  some  gold  upon  the 
table  ;  the  result,  however,  had  interested 
me  so  slightly,  that  it  was  only  by  remark- 
ing the  attention  my  game  had  excited  in 
others,  that  my  own  was  drawn  towards 
it.  1  then  perceived  that  I  had  permitted 
my  winnings  to  accumulate  upon  the 
board,  and  that  in  the  very  deal  then 
commencing,  I  had  a  stake  of  nearly  five 
hundred  pounds. 

"  Faites  votre  jeu,  le  jeu  est  fait,"  said 
the  croupier,  "trente-deux." 

'•  You  have  lost,  by  Jove  !  "  said  Guy, 
in  a  low  whisper,  in  which  I  could  detect 
some  trait  of  agitation. 

" Trente-et-un,"  added  the  croupier. 
"  Rouge  perd,  et  couleur." 

There  was  a  regular  buzz  of  wonder 
through  the  room  at  my  extraordinary 
luck,  for  thus,  with  every  chance  against 
me,  I  had  won  again. 

As  the  croupier  placed  the  billets  do 
banq ne  upon  the  table,  i  overheard  the 
muttered  commendations  of  an  old  veteran 
behind  me.  upon  the  coolness  and  judg- 
ment of  my  play.  "  So  much  for  fortune.'' 
thought  I. '  ''My  judgment  consists  in  a 
perfect  ignorance  of  the  chances,  and  my 
coolness  is  merely  a  thorough  indifference 
to  success."  Whether  i[  was  now  that  the 
flattery  had  its  effect  upon  me,  or  that 
the  passion  for  play.  BO  long  dormant,  had 
suddenly  seized  hold  upon  me,  I  know 
not,  but  my  attention   became  from  that 


I3*> 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


moment  riveted  upon  the  game,  and  I 
played  every  deal.  Guy,  who  had  been 
from  the  first  betting  with  the  indifferent 
success  which  I  have  so  often  observed  to 
attend  upon  the  calculations  of  old  and 
experienced  gamblers,  now  gave  up,  and 
employed  himself  merely  in  watching  my 
game." 

"  Harry,"  said  he,  at  last,  "  I  am  com- 
pletely puzzled  as  to  whether  you  are 
merely  throwing  down  your  louis  at  haz- 
ard, or  are  not  the  deepest  player  I  have 
ever  met  with." 

"  You  shall  see,"  said  I,  as  I  stooped 
over  towards  the  banker,  and  whispered, 
"  How  far  is  the  betting  permitted  ?" 

"Fifteen  thousand  francs,"  said  the 
croupier,  with  a  look  of  surprise. 

'•Hero  goes  then  1 "  said  I;  "  quinze 
mille  francs,  rouge." 

In  a  moment  the  rouge  won,  and  the 
second  deal  I  repeated  the  bet,  and  so  con- 
tinuing on  with  the  like  success.  When  I 
was  preparing  my  rouleau  for  the  fifth, 
the  banker  rose,  and  saying,  "  Messieurs, 
la  banque  est  ferme  pour  ce  soir,"  pro- 
ceeded to  lock  his  cassette,  and  close  the 
table. 

"  You  are  satisfied  now,"  said  Guy,  ris- 
ing ;  "  you  see  you  have  broken  the  bank, 
and  a  very  pretty  incident  to  commence 
with,  on  your  first  introduction  to  a  cam- 
paign in  Paris." 

Having  changed  my  gold  for  notes,  I 
stuffed  them,  with  an  air  of  well-affected 
carelessness,  into  my  pocket,  and  strolled 
through  the  salon,  where  I  had  now  be- 
come an  object  of  considerably  more  in- 
terest than  all  the  marshals  and  ministers 
about  me. 

"  Now,  Hal,"  said  Guy,  "  I'll  just  order 
our  supper  in  the  cabinet,  and  join  you  in 
a  moment." 

As  I  remained  for  some  minutes  await- 
ing Guy's  return,  my  attention  was  drawn 
towards  a  crowd,  in  a  smaller  salon,  among 
whom  the  usual  silent  decorum  of  the 
play-table  seemed  held  in  but  small  re- 
spect, for  every  instant  some  burst  of 
hearty  laughter,  or  some  open  expression 
of  joy  or  anger  burst  forth,  by  which  I 
immediately  perceived  that  they  were  the 
votaries  of  the  roulette-table,  a  game  at 
which  the  strict  propriety  and  etiquette 
ever  maintained  at  rouge  et  noir  are  never 
exacted.  As  I  pressed  nearer,  to  discover 
the  cause  of  the  mirth,  which  every  mo- 
ment seemed  to  augment,  guess  my  sur- 
prise to  perceive  among  the  foremost  rank 
of  the  players  my  acquaintance,  Mr. 
O'Leary,  whom  I  at  that  moment  believed 
to  be  solacing  himself  with  his  meerschaum 


at  Men  rice's.  My  astonishment  at  how  he 
obtained  admission  to  the  salon  was  even 
less  than  my  fear  of  his  recognizing  me. 
At  no  time  is  it  agreeable  to  find  that  the 
man  who  is  regarded  as  the  buffo  of  a 
party  turns  out  to  be  your  friend  ;  hut 
still  less  is  this  so,  when  the  individual 
claiming  acquaintance  with  you  presents 
any  striking  absurdity  in  his  dress  or  man- 
ner, strongly  at  contrast  with  the  persons 
and  things  about  him.  And  thus  it'  now 
happened.  Mr.  O'Leary's  external  man, 
as  we  met  him  on  the  Calais  road,  with 
its  various  accompaniments  of  blouse,  cap, 
spectacles,  and  tobacco-pipe,  were  nothing 
very  remarkable,  but  when  the  same  figure 
presented  itself  among  the  elegans  of  the 
Parisian  world,  redolent  of  eau  de  Portu- 
gal,  and  superb  in  the  glories  of  brocade 
waistcoats  and  velvet  coats,  the  thing  was 
too  absurd,  and  I  longed  to  steal  away  be- 
fore any  chance  should  present  itself  of  a 
recognition.  This,  however,  was  impos- 
sible, as  the  crowd  from  the  other  table 
were  all  gathered  round  us,  and  I  was  ob- 
liged to  stand  fast,  and  trust  that  the  ex- 
citement of  the  game,  in  which  he  ap- 
peared to  be  thoroughly  occupied,  might 
keep  his  eye  fixed  on  another  quarter.  I 
now  observed  that  the  same  scene  in  which 
I  had  so  lately  been  occupied,  at  the  rouge 
et  noir  table  was  enacting  here,  under 
rather  different  circumstances.  Mr. 
O'Leary  was  the  only  player,  as  I  had  just 
been — not,  however,  because  his  success 
absorbed  all  the  interest  of  the  bystanders, 
but  that,  unfortunately  his  constant  want 
of  it  elicited  some  strong  expression  of 
discontent  and  mistrust  from  him,  which 
excited  the  loud  laughter  of  the  others, 
but  of  which,  from  his  great  anxiety  in 
the  game,  he  seemed  totally  unconscious. 

"  Faites  votre  jeu,  messieurs,"  said  the 
croupier. 

"  Wait  a  bit  till  I  change  this,"  said  Mr. 
O'Leary,  producing  an  English  sovereign  ; 
the  action  interpreted  his  wishes,  and  the 
money  was  converted  into  coupons  de  jeu. 

I  now  discovered  one  great  cause  of  the 
mirth  of  the  bystanders,  at  least  the  Eng- 
lish portion  of  them.  Mr.  O'Leary,  Avhen 
placing  his  money  upon  the  table,  observ- 
ed the  singular  practice  of  announcing 
aloud  the  amount  of  his  bet,  which,  for 
his  own  information,  he  reduced  to  Irish 
currency  ;  thus  the  stillness  of  the  room 
was  every  instant  broken  by  a  strong  Irish 
accent  pronouncing  something  of  this  sort 
—  "•live  francs,"  ''four  and  a  penny," — 
"'  ten  francs,"  "eight  and  three  ha'pence." 
The  amusement  thus  caused  was  increased 
by  the  excitement  his  losses  threw  him  in- 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


137 


to.  He  now  ceased  to  play  for  several 
times,  when  at  last,  he  made  an  offering  of 
his  usual  stake. 

"Penl,"  said  the  croupier, raking  in  the 
piece  with  a  contemptuous  air  at  the  small- 
nessof  the  bet,  and  in  no  way  pleased  thai 
the  interest  Mr.  O'Leary  excited  should 
prevent  the  other  players  from  betting. 

"Perd,"  said  O'Leary,  again.  "Devil 
another  song  you  sing  than  '  perd,'  and 
I'm  not  quite  clear  you're  not  cheating  all 
the  while — only,  God  help  you  if  you 
are  ! " 

As  he  so  said,  the  head  of  a  huge  black- 
thorn stick  was  half  protruded  across  the 
table,  causing  renewed  mirth  ;  for,  among 
other  regulations,  every  cane,  however  tri- 
fling, is  always  demanded  at  the  door  ;  and 
thus  a  new  subject  of  astonishment  arose 
as  to  how  he  had  succeeded  in  carrying  it 
with  him  into  the  salon. 

"Here's  at  you  again,"  said  O'Leary,  re- 
gardless of  the  laughter,  and  covering 
three  or  four  numbers  with  hisjetons. 

Round  went  the  ball  once  more,  and 
once  more  he  lost. 

"Look  now,  devil  a  lie  in  it,  he  makes 
them  go  wherever  he  pleases.  I'll  take  a 
turn  now  at  the  tables  ;  fair  play's  a  jewel 
— and  we'll  sen  how  you'll  get  on." 

So  saying,  he  proceeded  to  insinuate  him- 
self into  the  chair  of  the  croupier,  whom 
he  proposed  to  supersede,  by  no  very  gen- 
tle means.  This  was  of  course  resisted, 
and  as  the  loud  mirth  of  the  bystanders 
grew  more  and  more  boisterous,  the  cries 
of  "  A  la  porte!  A  la  portel"  from  the 
friends  of  the  bank,  rang  through  the 
crowd. 

"  Go  it,  Pat — go  it,  Pat."  said  Guy,  over 
my  shoulder,  who  seemed  to  take  a  pro- 
digious interest  in  the  proceedings. 

At  this  unexpected  recognition  of  his 
nativity — for  Mr.  O'Leary  never  suspected 
lie  could  be  discovered  by  his  accent — he 
looked  across  the  table,  and  caught  my  eye 
at  once. 

"Oh,  I'm  safe  now  !  stand  by  me,  Mr. 
Lorrcquer,  and  we'll  clear  the  room." 

So  saying,  and  without  any  further  prov- 
ocation, he  upset  the  croupier,  chair  and 
all,  with  one  sudden  jerk  upon  the  floor, 
and  giving  a  tremendous  kick  to  the  cas- 
sette, sent  all  the  five-franc  pieces  flying 
over  him  ;  he  then  jumped  upon  the  ta- 
ble, and  brandishing  his  blackthorn 
through  the  ormolu  lustre,  scattered  the 
wax-lights  on  all  sides,  accompanying  the 
exploit  by  a  yell  that  would  have  called 
up  all  Connemara  at  midnight,  if  it  had 
only  been  heard  there  ;  in  an  instant,  the 
gendarmes,  always  sufficiently  near  to  be 


called  in  if  required,  came  pouring  info 

I  he    room,  and    supposing    the  whole  a!" 

had   ! n  a  preconcerted   thing  to  obtain 

possession  of  the  money  in  the  bank,  com- 
menced cap!  tiring  different  members  of  the 
company  who  appeared  bj  enjoj  ing  the  con- 
fusion, to  he  favoring  and  a  \  it.  My 
cousin  ( i  n y  was  one  of  \  hefirsl  so  I  rcated — a 
proceeding  to  which  be  responded  bj  ai 
pi  al  ral  her  in  fa  vor  with  mosl  English- 
men, and    at    once  knocked    down  ' 

danne  ;  this  was  the  signal  for  a  general 
engagement,  and  accordingly,  before  an 
explanation  could  possibly  be  1.  a 

most  terrific  combal  ensued.  The  French- 
men in  the  room  siding  with  lar- 
meric,  and  making  common  cause  aga 
the  English  ;  who,  although  greatly  ii 
rior  in  number,  possessed  c<  nsiderable  ad- 
vantage, from  long  habit  fn  street-rows 
and  boxing  encounters.  As  for  myself,  I 
had  the  good  fortune  to  be  pitted  against 
a  very  pursy  and  unwieldy  Frenchman, 
who  sacrffd  to  admiration,  bu1  never  put 
in  a  single  blow  at  me  ;  while,  therefore, 
I  amused  myself  practising  what  old  Cribb 
called  "  the  one,  two,"  upon  his  fat  car 
!l  had  abundant  time  and  opportunity  to 
watch  all  that  was  doing  about  me,  and 
truly  a  more  ludicrous  affair  I  never  be- 
held. Imagine  about  fifteen  or  sixl 
young  Englishmen,  most  of  them  power- 
ful, athletic  fellows,  driving  an  indiscrim- 
inate mob  of  about  five  times  t  heir  number 
before  them,  who,  with  courage  enough  to 
resist,  were  yet  so  totally  ignoranl  of  the 
boxing  art,  that  they  retreated  pell-mell 
before  the  battering  phalanx  of'  their  stur- 
dy opponents — the  most  ludicrous  figure 
of  all  being  Mr.  O'Leary  himself,  who, 
standing  upon  the  table,  laid  ahouc  him 
with  a  brass  lustre  that  he  had  unstrung, 
and  did  considerable  mischief  with  this 
novel  instrument  of  warfare',  crying  out 
the  entire  time,  "Murder  every  mother's 
son  of  them  !"  "  Give  them  another  taste 
of  Waterloo!"  Just  as  he  had  uttered 
the  last  patriotic  sentiment,  he  received  a 
slight  admonition  from  behind,  by  the 
2ioint  of  a  gendarme's  sword,  which  made 
him  leaj)  from  the  table  with  the  alacrity 
of  a  harlequin,  and  come  plump  down 
among  the  thickest  of  the  fray.  My  at- 
tention was  now  directed  elsewhere,  for 
above  all  the  din  and  tapage  o(  the  en- 
counter I  could  plainly  hear  the  row-dow- 
dow  of  the  drums  and  the  measured  tread 
of  troops  approaching, And  at  one.  gu 
that  a  reinforcement  of  the  gendarmerie 
were  coming  up.  Behind  me  there  was  a 
large  window  with  a  heavy  scarlet  curtain 
before  it;  my  resolution  was  at  once  taken; 


j  38 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


I  floored  my  antagonist,  whom  I  had  till 
now  treated  with  the  most  merciful  for- 
bearance, and  immediately  sprang  be- 
hind the  curtain.  A  second's  considera- 
tion showed  that  in  the  search  that  must 
ensue  this  would  afford  no  refuge,  so  I  at 
once  opened  the  sash,  and  endeavored  to 
ascertain  at  what  height  I  was  above  the 
ground  beneath  me  ;  the  night  was  so  dark 
that  I  could  see  nothing,  but  judging  from 
the  leaves  and  twigs  that  reached  to  the 
window  that  it  was  a  garden  beneath,  and 
auguring  from  the  perfumed  smell  of  the 
shrubs,  that  they  could. not  be  tall  trees,  I 
resolved  to  leap,  a  resolve  I  had  little  time 
to  come  to,  for  the  step  of  the  soldiers  was 
already  heard  upon  the  stair.  Fixing  my 
hat,  then,  down  upon  my  brows,  and  but- 
toning my  coat  tightly,  I  let  myself  down 
from  the  window-stool  by  my  hands,  and 
fell  upon  my  legs  in  the  soft  earth  of  the 
garden,  safe  and  unhurt.  From  the  in- 
creased clamor  and  din  overhead,  I  could 
learn  the  affray  was  at  its  height,  and 
had  little  difficulty  in  detecting  the  sonor- 
ous accent  and  wild  threats  of  my  friend 
Mr.  O'Leary  high  above  all  the  other 
sounds  around  him.  I  did  not  wait  long, 
however,  to  enjoy  them,  but  at  once  set 
about  securing  my  escape  from  my  present 
bondage.  In  this  I  had  little 'difficulty, 
for  I  was  directed  by  a  light  to  a  small 
door,  which,  as  I  approached,  found  that 
it  led  into  the  den  of  the  concierge,  and 
also  communicated  by  another  door  with 
the  street.  I  opened  it,  therefore,  at  once, 
and  was  in  the  act  of  opening  the  second, 
when  1  felt  myself  seized  by  the  collar  by  a 
strong  hand  ;  and  on  turning  round,  saw 
the  sturdy  figure  of  the  concierge  himself, 
with  a  drawn  bayonet  within  a  few  inches 
of  my  throat.  "  Tenez,  mon  ami,"  said  I, 
quietly  ;  and  placing  half  a  dozen  louis, 
some  of  my  recent  spoils,  in  his  hand,  at 
once  satisfied  him  that,  even  if  I  were  a 
robber,  I  was  at  least  one  that  understood 
and  respected  the  conveniences  of  society. 
He  at  once  relinquished  his  hold  and 
dropped  his  weapon,  and  pulling  off  his  cap 
with  one  hand,  to  draw  the  cord  which 
opened  the  porte  cocliere  with  the  other, 
bowed  me  politely  to  the  street.  I  had 
scarcely  had  time  to  insinuate  myself  into 
the  dense  mass  of  the  people  whom  the 
noise  and  confusion  within  had  assembled 
around  the  house,  when  the  double  door  of 
the  building  opened,  and  a  file  of  gendar- 
merie came  forth,  leading  between  them  my 
friend  Mr.  O'Leary  and  some  others  of  the 
rioters — among  whom  I  rejoiced  to  find  my 
cousin  did  not  figure.  If  I  were  to  judge 
from  his  disordered  habiliments  and  scar- 


red visage,  Mr.  O'Leary's  resistance  to  the 
Constituted  authorities  must  have  been  a 
vigorous  oik  ,  and  the  drollery  of  his  ap- 
pearance was  certainly  not  decreased  by 
his  having  lost  the  entire  brim  of  his  hat 
— the  covering  of  his  head  hearing,  under 
these  distressing  circumstances,  a  strong 
resemblance  to  a  saucepan. 

As  1  could  not  at  that  momenl  contrib- 
ute in  any  way  to  his  rescue,  I  determined 
on  the  following  day  to  he  present  at  his 
examination,  and  render  him  all  the  assist- 
ance.in  my  power.  Meanwhile  I  returned 
to  Meurice's,  thinking  of  every  adventure 
of  the  evening  much  more  than  of  my  own 
changed  condition  and  altered  fortunes. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


The  first  thing  which  met  my  eye,  when 
waking  in  the  morning,  after  the  affair 
at  the  salon  was  the  rouleau  of  billets  de 
hanque  which  I  had  won  at  play;  and  it  took 
several  minutes  before  I  could  persuade 
myself  that  the  entire  recollection  of  the 
evening  had  any  more  solid  foundation 
than  a  heated  brain  and  fevered  imagina- 
tion. The  sudden  spring  from  being  a 
subaltern  in  the  4 — th,  with  a  few  hun- 
dreds per  annum — pour  tout  potage,  to  be- 
coming the  veritable  proprietor  of  several 
thousands,  with  a  handsome  house  in 
Cumberland,  was  a  consideration  which  I" 
could  scarcely  admit  into  my  mind,  so 
fearful  was  I  that  the  very  first  occurrence 
of  the  day  should  dispel  the  illusion,  and 
throw  me  back  into  the  dull  reality  which 
I  was  hoping  to  escape  from. 

There  is  no  adage  more  true  than  the 
old  Roman  one — "  that  what  we  wish,  we 
readily  believe  ;"  so  I  had  little  difficulty 
in  convincing  myself  that  all. was  as  I  de- 
sired— although,  certainly,  my  confused 
memory  of  the  past  evening  contributed 
little  to  that  conviction.  It  was,  then, 
amid  a  very  whirl  of  anticipated  pleasures, 
and  new  schemes  for  enjoying  life,  that  I 
sat  clown  to  a  breakfast,  at  which,  that  I 
might  lose  no  time  in  commencing  my 
race,  I  had  ordered  the  most  exquisite 
viands  which  even-  French  cookery  could 
accomplish  for  the  occasion. 

My  plans  were  soon  decided  upon.  I 
resolved  to  remain  only  long  enough  in 
Paris  to  provide  myself  with  a  comfortable 
traveling  carriage,  secure  a  good  courier, 
and  start  for  Baden  ;  when  I  trusted  that 
my  pretensions,  whatever  favor  they  might 


HARRY  LORRBQUER. 


130 


have  been  once  received  with,  would  cer- 
tainly now,  at  hast,  be  listened  to  with 
more  prospect  of  being  successful. 

I  opened  the  Galignani's  paper  of  the 
clay  to  direct  me  in  my  search,  and  had 
scarcely  read  a  few  lines  before  a  para- 
graph caught  my  eye,  which  not.  a  little 
amused  me  ;  it  was  headed — Serious  Riot 
at  the  Salon  des  Etrangers,  and  attempt  to 
Rob  the  Bank : 

"Last  evening,  among  the  "persons  who 
presented  themselves  at  the  table  of  this 
fashionable  resort,  were  certain  individuals 
who,  by  their  manners  and  dress,  bespoke 
anything  rather  than  the  rank  and  con- 
dition of  those  who  usually  resort  there, 
and  whose  admission  is  still  unexplained, 
notwithstanding  the  efforts  of  the  police 
to  unravel  the  mystery.  The  proprietors 
of  the  bank  did  not  fail  to  remark  these 
persons,  but  scrupled,  from  fear  of  dis- 
turbing the  propriety  of  the  salon,  to  take 
the  necessary  steps  for  their  exclusion,  re- 
serving their  intention  to  the  adoption  of 
precautions  against  such  intrusion  in  fu- 
ture —  unfortunately,  as  it  turned  out, 
eventually  —  for,  toward  eleven  o'clock, 
one  of  these  individuals,  having  lost  a  con- 
siderable sum  at  play,  proceeded  in  a  very 
violent  and  outrageous  manner  to  de- 
nounce the  bank,  and  went  so  far  as  to 
accuse  the  croupier  of  cheating.  This 
language,  having  failed  to  excite  the  dis- 
turbance it  was  evidently  intended  to  pro- 
mote, was  soon  followed  up  by  a  most 
dreadful  personal  attack  upon  the  banker, 
in  which  he  was  thrown  from  his  seat,  and 
the  cassette,  containing  several  thousand 
francs  in  gold  and  notes,  immediately  laid 
hold  of.  The  confusion  now  became  con- 
siderable, and  it  was  apparent  that  the 
whole  had  been  a  preconcerted  scheme. 
Several  persons,  leaping  upon  the  table, 
attempted  to  extinguish  the  great  luster  of 
the  salon,  in  which  bold  attempt  they  were 
most  spiritedly  resisted  by  some  of  the 
other  players  and  the  gendarmes,  who  had 
by  this  time  arrived  in  force.  The  riot 
was  quelled  after  a  prolonged  and  desper- 
ate resistance,  and  the  rioters,  with  the 
exception  of  two,  were  captured,  and  con- 
veyed to  prison,  where  they  await  the  re- 
sult of  a  judicial  investigation,  of  which 
we  shall  not  fail  to  lay  the  particulars  be- 
fore our  readers. 

"Since  our  going  to  press,  we  have 
learned  that  one  of  the  ringleaders  in  this 
vile  scheme  is  a  noted  English  escroc — a 
swindler,    who    was    already   arrested     at 

C for  traveling  with  a  false  passport, 

but  who  contrives,  by  some  collusion  with 
another  of  the  gang,  to  evade  the  local 


ant liorities.     ]i'  this  be  the  <•,.    . 

he  will  speedily  be  detected   and  broug    I 

i o  punishment." 

Whatever   amusement    I    had   found   in 
reading  the  commencing   portion  of  this 
ridiculous  *  misstatement,  the   allusion    in 
the  latter  part   by  no  means  afforded 
equal   pleasure  :  and    I    saw  in  oi 
glauce    how    much    annoyance,    and    how 
many  delays  and   impediments,  a  ch 
even  of  this  ridiculous  nature  mighl    £ 
rise  to  in  my  presenl  circumstances.    "  My 
passport,  however,  will  settle  all,"  thought 
I,  as  I  thrust   my  hand  toward   m\  po< 
in  which  1  had   placed   it  along  with   - 
letters. 

Guess   my  misery    to  discover  that  the 
whole  of  the  pocket  had  been  cut  away, 
probably    in    the    hope   of   obtaining 
billets  ae  banque  1   had   won  at  play,  but 
which  I  had  changed  from  that  pocket   to 
a  breast  one  on  leaving  the  table.     Thi 
once  led  me  to  suspect  that  there  might 
some  truth  in  the  suspicion  of  thi 
paper  writer  of  a  preconcerted  scheme,  and 
at  once   explained   to  me  what  had  much 
puzzled   me   before — the  extreme  rapidity 
with  which   the  elements  of  discord  were 
propagated,  for  the  whole  affair  was  the 
work  of  a  few  seconds.     While  I  continued 
to   meditate    on    these  matters,  the  wa 
entered  with  a  small  note  in  an  envelope, 
which  a  commissionnaire  had  just  left  at 
the  hotel  for  me,  and  went  away,  saying 
there  was  no  answer.      1  opened  it  hastily, 
and  read  : — 

"  Dear  H., — The  confounded  affair  of 
last  night  has  induced  me  to  leave  this  for 
a  few  days;  besides  that,  I  have  obta 
a  most  excellent  reason  for  absenting 
self  in  the  presence  of  a  black  eye,   which 
will  prevent  my  appearance  in  public  for 
a  week  to  come.     As  you    are  a  strai 
here,    you    need  not   fear  being  di 
With    all   its    desagremens,    I   can't  help 
laughing  at  the  adventure,  and  1  am  heart- 
ily glad  to  have  had  the  opportunity  of 
displaying  old  Jackson's  science  upon  those 
wretched  gendarme-. 

"  Yours  truly, 

"G.  L." 

"This  certainly,"  thought  I,  -'improves 
my  position.  Here  is  my  cousin  Guy — 
the  only  one  to  whom,  in  any  doubt  or  dif- 
ficulty here,  I  could  refer — here  he  is — 
flown",  without  letting  me  know  where  to 
address  him  or  find  him  out."  I  rang  my 
bell  hastily,  and  having  written  a  line  on 
my  card,  requesting  Lord  Kilkee  to  come 
to  me  as  soon  as  he  could,  dispatched  it  to 


140 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


the  Rue  de  la  Paix.  The  messenger  soon 
returned  with  an  answer  that  Lord  Kilkee 
had  been  obliged  to  leave  Paris  late  the 
evening  before,  having  received  some  im- 
portant letters  from  Baden.  My  anxiety 
now  became  greater.  I  did  not  know  but 
that  the  moment  I  ventured  to  leave  the 
hotel  I  should  be  recognized  by  some  of 
the  witnesses  of  the  evening's  fray  ;  and  all 
thoughts  of  succoring  poor  O'Leary  were 
completely  forgotten  in  my  fear  for  the 
annoyances  the  whole  of  this  ridicu- 
lous affair  might  involve  me  in.  With- 
out any  decision  as  to  my  future  steps, 
I  dressed  myself,  and  proceeded  to  pay 
my  respects  to  Mrs.  Bingham  and  her 
daughter,  who  were  in  the  same  hotel, 
and  whom  I  had  not  seen  since  our 
arrival. 

As  I  entered  the  drawing-room,  I  was 
surprised  to  find  Miss  Bingham  alone. 
She  appeared,  to  have  been  weeping — at 
least  the  efforts  she  made  to  appear  easy 
and  in  good  spirits  contrasted  a  good  deal 
with  the  expression  of  her  features  as  I 
came  in.  To  my  inquiries  for  Mrs.  Bing- 
ham, I  received  for  answer  that  the  friends 
Mrs.  Bingham  had  expected  having  left  a 
few  days  before  for  Baden,  she  had  resolv- 
ed on  following  them,  and  had  now  merely 
driven  out  to  make  a  few  purchases  before 
her  departure,  which  was  to  take  place  in 
the  morning. 

There  is  something  so  sad  in  the  thought 
of  being  deserted  and  left  by  one's  friends 
under  any  circumstances,  that  I  cannot 
express  how  much  this  intelligence  affect- 
ed me.  It  seemed,  too,  like  the  last  drop 
of  bad  news  filling  up  the  measure,  that  I 
was  to  be  suddenly  deprived  of  the  society 
of  the  very  few  friends  about  me,  just  as  1 
stood  most  in  need  of  them. 

Whether  or  not  Miss  Bingham  noticed 
my  embarrassment,  I  cannot  say  ;  but  cer- 
tainly she  seemed  not  displeased,  and  there 
was  in  the  half-encouraging  tone  of  her 
manner  something  which  led  me  to  suspect 
that  she  was  not-  dissatisfied  with  the  im- 
pression her  news  seemed  to  produce  upon 
me. 

Without  at  all  alluding  to  my  own  im- 
proved fortune,  or  to  the  events  of  the 
preceding  night,  I  began  to  talk  over  the 
coming  journey,  and  expressed  my  sincere 
regret  that,  having  lost  my  passport  under 
circumstances  which  might  create  some 
delay,  I  could  not  join  their  party  as  I 
should  otherwise  have  done. 

Miss  Bingham  heard  this  speech  with 
rather  more  emotion  than  so  simple  a  de- 
claration was  calculated  to  produce  ;  and, 
while  she   threw  down    her  eyes  beneath 


their  long  dark  lashes,  and  colored  slightly, 
asked, — 

"And  did  you  really  wish  to  come  with 
us  ?  " 

"Undoubtedly,"  said  I. 

"  And  is  there  no  other  objection  than 
the  passport  ?" 

"None  whatever,"  said  I,  warming  as  I 
spoke,  for  the  interest  she  appeared  to 
take  in  me  completely  upset  all  my  calcula- 
tions ;  besides  that,  1  had  never  seen  her 
looking  so  handsome,  and  that,  as  the 
French  wisely  remark,  vaut  toujour*  quel- 
que  chose. 

"■  Oh,  then,  pray  come  with  ns,  which 
you  can  do,  for  mamma  has  just  got  a 
passport  for  her  nephew  along  with  her 
own  ;  and  as  we  really  don't  want  him, 
nor  lw  us,  avo  shall  both  be  better  pleased 
to  be  free  of  each  other,  and  you  can  easily 
afterwards  have  your  own  forwarded  to 
Baden  by  post." 

"Ah,  but,"  said  I,  "how  shall  I  be 
certain,  if  I  take  so  flattering  an  offer, 
that  you  will  forgive  me  for  filling  up  the 
place  of  the  dear  cousin,  for,  if  I  conjec- 
ture aright,  it  is  le  clier  Edouard  that 
purposes  to  be  your  companion."- 

"  Yes,  you  have  guessed  quite  correctly  ; 
but  you  must  not  tax  me  with  inconsist- 
ency, but  really  I  have  grown  quite  tired 
of  my  poor  cousin,  since  I  saw  him  last 
night." 

"And  you  used  to  admire  him  most 
prodigiously." 

"  Well,  well,  that  is  all  true,  but  I  do  so 
no  longer." 

"  Eh  !  pwcfiet"  said  I,  looking  cunning- 
ly in  her  eye. 

"  For  reasons  that  Mr.  Lorrequer  shall 
never  know  if  he  has  to  ask  them,"  said 
the  poor  girl,  covering  her  eyes  with  her 
hands,  and  sobbing  bitterly. 

What  I  thought,  said,  or  did  upon  this 
occasion,  with  all  my  most  sincere  desire 
to  make  a  "clean  breast  of  it  in  these 
Confessions,"  I  know  not ;  but  this  I  do 
know,  that  two  hours  after,  I  found  my- 
self still  sitting  upon  the  sofa  beside  Miss 
Bingham,  whom  I  had  been  calling  Emily 
all  the  while,  and  talking  more  of  personal 
matters  and  my  own  circumstances  than  is 
ever  safe  or  prudent  for  a  young  man  to 
do  with  any  lady  under  the  age  of  his 
mother. 

All  that  I  can  now  remember  of  this 
interview  is  the  fact  of  having  arranged 
my  departure  in  the  manner  proposed  by 
Miss  Bingham — a  proposition  to  which  I 
acceded  with  an  affectation  of  satisfaction 
that  I  fear  went  very  far  to  deceive  my 
fair  friend.     Not  that  the  pleasure  I  fpk 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


141 


in  the  prospect  was  altogether  feigned; 
but  certainly  the  habit  of  being  led  away 
by  the  whim  and  temper  of  the  moment 
had  so  much  become  pari  of  my  rial  are, 
that  I  had  long  since  despaired  of  ever 
guarding  myself  against  the  propensity  I 
hud  acquired  of  following  every  lead  which 
any  one  might  throw  out  for  me.  And 
thus,  as  poor  Harry  Lorrequer  was  ever  the 
first  man  to  get  into  a  row  at  the  sugges- 
tion of  a  friend,  so  he  only  waited  the  least 
possible  pressing  on  any  occasion  to  in- 
volve himself  in  any  scrape  or  misfortune 
that  presented  itself,  provided  there  was 
only  some  one  g^od  enough  to  ad\  ise  him 
to  do  so. 

As  I  entered  my  own  room,  to  make 
preparations  for  my  departure,  I  could  not 
help  thinking  over  all  the  events  thus 
crowded  into  the  space  of  a  few  hours. 
My  sudden  possession  of  wealth — my  pros- 
pects at  Oallonby  still  undecided — my 
scrape  at  the  salon — my  late  interview 
with  Miss  Bingham,  in  which  I  had  only 
stopped  short  of  a  proposal  to  marry,  were 
almost  sufficient  to  occupy  any  reasonable 
mind  ;  and  so  I  was  beginning  to  suspect, 
when  the  waiter  informed  me  that  the 
commissaire  of  police was  in  waiting  below 
and  wished  to  speak  to  me.  Affecting- 
some  surprise  at  the  request,  which  1  at 
once  perceived  the  object  of,  I  desired  him 
to  be  introduced.  I  was  quite  correct  in 
my  guess.  The  information  of  my  being 
concerned  in  the  affair  at  the  salon  had 
been  communicated  to  the  authorities,  and 
the  commissaire  had  orders  to  obtain  bail 
for  my  appearance  at  the  Tribunal  de  Jus- 
tice, on  that  day  week,  or  commit  me  at 
once  to  prison.  The  commissaire  politely 
gave  me  till  evening  to  procure  the  re- 
quired bail,  satisfying  himself  that  iie 
could  'dopt  measures  to  prevent  my  es- 
cape, and  took  his  leave.  He  had  scarcely 
gone  when  Mr.  Edward  Bingham  was  an- 
nounced— the  reason  for  this  visit  I  could 
not  so  easily  divine  :  but  I  had  little  time 
allowed  for  my  conjectures,  as  the  same 
instant  a  very  smart,  dapper  little  gentle- 
man presented  himself,  dressed  in  all  the 
extravagance  of  French  mode.  His  hair, 
which  was  permitted  to  curl  upon  his 
shoulders,  was  divided  along  the  middle  of 
the  head  ;  his  mustachios  were  slightly 
upturned  and  carefully  waxed,  and  his 
small  chin-tuft  cr  Henri  Quatre  most 
gracefully  pointed;  he  wore  three  most 
happily  contrasting  colored  waistcoats,  and 
spurs  of  glittering  brass.  His  visit  was  of 
scarcely  five  minutes'  duration  ;  but  was 
evidently  the  opening  of  a  breaching  bat- 
tery by  the  Bingham  family  in  all  form — 


the  obj<  ei  (.f  which  1  could  at   leasi  guess 
at. 

My  embarrassments  were  noi  destii 
end  here  :  for  scarcely  had  1  rei  urncd  .Mi-. 
Bingham's  eighth  salutation  at  the  end  of 
the  staircase,  w  hen  another  individual  pre- 
sented himself  before  me.  Thisfigure  was 
ry  respeel  the  opposite  of  my  last 
visitor.  Although  framed  perfectly  upon 
the  late  Parisian  school  of  dandyism,  his. 
however,  was  the  Ecole  militaire.  Le  Cap- 
itaine  Eugene  de  Joncourt,  forso  he  intro- 
duced himself,  was  ;i  portly  persona^ 
about  live-and-thiri y  or  fortj  yi  at  -  oJ 
with  t  hat-  niixi  lire  of  bonhomie  and  f. 
in  his  features  which  the  soldiers  of  Napo- 
leon's army  either  affected  or 
naturally.  His  features,  which  were  hand- 
some, and  the  expression  of  which  was 
pleasing,  were,  as  it  seemed,  perverted,  by 
the  warlike  turn  of  a  most  terrific  pair  of 
whiskers  and  mustachios.  from  their  natu- 
rally good-humored  bent  ;  and  the  prac- 
ticed frown  and  quick  turn  of  his  dark  eye 
were  evidently  only  the  acquired  advan- 
tages of  his  military  career;  a  handsome 
mouth,  with  singularly  regular  and  good 
teeth,  took  much  away  from  the  -tern  look 
of  the  upper  part  of  his  face,  and  contrib- 
uted, with  the  aid  of  a  most  phasing  voice, 
to  impress  you  in  his  favor  :  his  dress  was 
a  blue  braided  frock,  decorated  with  the 
cordon  of  the  Legion  ;  but  neither  th 
nor  the  clink  of  his  long  cavalry  spurs, 
were  necessary  to  convince  you  that  the 
man  was  a  soldier  ;  besides  that,  there  was 
that  mixture  of  urbanity  and  aplomb  in  his 
manner,  which  showed  him  to  he  perfectly 
accustomed  to  the  usages  of  the  best  so- 
ciety. 

'•May  I  beg  to  know,"  said  he,  as  he 
seated  himself  slowly,  '"if  this  card  i 
tains  your  name  and  address?"  handing 
me  at  the  same  moment  one  of  my  visiting 
cards.  I  immediately  replied  in  the  affirm- 
ative. 

"  You  are  in  the  English  service  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Then,  may  I  entreat  your  pardon  for 
the  trouble  of  these  questions,  and  explain 
the  reason  of  my  visit  ?  1  am  the  friend 
of  Le  Baron  d'Haulpenne,  with  whom  you 
had  the  altercation  last  night  at  the  salon, 
and  in  whose  name  1  have  come  to  requ 
the  address  of  a  friend  on  your  part." 

"  Ho,  ho,"  thought  1,  "  the  baron  is  then 
the  stout  gentleman  that  I  pummelled  so 
unmercifully  near  the  window  ;  but  how 
came  he  by  my  card  ?  and  ,  in  a  row 

of  that  kind,  I  am  not  aware  how  far  the 
matter  can  be  conceived  to  go  farther  than 
what  happens  at  the  moment. "    These  were 


142 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


the  thoughts  of  a  second  of  time,  and  before 
I  could  reply,  the  captain  resumed, 

"You  seem  to  have  forgotten  the  cir- 
cumstance, and  so,  indeed,  should  1  like  to 
do  ;  but,  unfortunately,  D'Haulpenne  says 
that  you  struck  him  with  your  walking- 
cane,  so  you  know,  under  such  a  state  of 
things,  there  is  but  one  course." 

"  But  gently,"  added  I,  '"I  had  no  cane 
whatever  last  evening." 

"Oh!  I  beg  pardon,"  interrupted  lie; 
"  but  my  friend  is  most  positive  in  his  ac- 
count, and  describes  the  altercation  as  hav- 
ing continued  from  the  salon  to  the  street, 
when  you  struck  him,  and  at  the  same  time 
threw  him  your  card.  Two  of  your  officers 
were  also  present ;  and  although,  as  it  ap- 
pears from  your  present  forgetfulness,  that 
the  thing  took  place  in  the  heat  and  ex- 
citement of  the  moment,  still " 

"But  still,"  said  I,  catching  up  his  last 
words,  "I  never  did  strike  the  gentleman 
as  you  describe,  never  had  any  altercation 
in  the  street — and " 

"  Is  that  your  address  ? "  said  the 
Frenchman,  with  a  slight  bow. 

"  Yes,  certainly  it  is." 

"Why,  then,"  said  lie,  with  a  mild 
curl  of  his  upper  lip,  half  smile,  half  de- 
rision  

'"  Why,  then,  make  yourself  perfectly 
easy,"  I  replied.  ''If  any  one  has  by  an 
accident  made  use  of  my  name,  it  shall  not 
suffer  by  such  a  mistake.  I  shall  be  quite 
at  your  service  the  moment  I  can  find  out 
a  friend  to  refer  you  to." 

I  had  much  difficulty  to  utter  these  few 
words  with  a  suitable  degree  of  temper,  so 
stung  was  I  by  the  insolent  demeanor  of 
the  Frenchman,  whose  coolness  and  urban- 
ity seemed  only  to  increase  every  moment. 

"Then  I  have  the  honor  to  salute  you," 
said  he,  rising  with  great  mildness  in  his 
voice  ;  "and  shall  take  the  liberty  to  leave 
my  card  for  the  information  of  your 
friend." 

So  saying,  he  placed  his  card  upon  the 
table,  "Le  Oapitaine  Eugene  de  Joncourt, 
Cuirassiers  de  la  Garde." 

"  I  need  not  press  upon  Monsieur  the 
value  of  dispatch." 

"I  shall  not  lose  a  moment,"  said  I,  as 
he  clattered  down  the  stairs  of  the  hotel, 
with  that  perfect  swaggering  nonchalance 
which  your  foreigner  is  always  an  adept  in; 
and  I  returned  to  my  room  to  meditate 
upon  my  numerous  embarrassments,  and 
think  over  the  difficulties  which  every  mo- 
ment was  contributing  to  increase  the 
number  of. 

"  The  indictment  has  certainly  many 
oounts,"  thought  I. 


Imprimis.:  a  half-implied,  but  fully 
comprehended  promise  to  marry  a  young 
lady,  with  whom,  I  confess,  1  only  intend 
to  journey  this  life — as  far  as  Baden. 

Secondly:  a, charge  of  swindling — for 
such  the  imputation  amounts  to — at  the 
salon. 

Thirdly  :  another  unaccountable  delav 
in  joining  the  Callonbys,  with  whom' I  am 
every  hour  in  the  risk  of  being  compromi&; 
and,  lastly,  a  duel  in  perspective  with 
some  confounded  Frenchman,  who  is  at 
this  very  moment  practicing  at  a  pistol 
gallery. 

Such  were  the  heads  of  my  reflections, 

.  and    such   the   agreeable    impressions   my 

visit  to  Paris  was  destined  to  open  with  ; 

how  they  were  to  be  followed  up  remains 

to  be  told. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

CAPTAIN   TREVANION'S   ADVENTURE. 

As  the  clay  was  now  waning  apace,  and 
I  was  still  unprovided  with  any  one  who 
could  act  as  my  second,  I  set  out  upon  a 
search  through  the  various  large  hotels  in 
the  neighborhood,  trusting  that  amid  my 
numerous  acquaintance  1  should  be  for- 
tunate enough  to  find  some  of  them  at 
Paris.  With  a  most  anxious  eye  I  scanned 
the  lists  of  arrivals  at  the  usual  haunts  of 
my  countrymen, in  the  Rue  Rivoli  and  the 
Place  Vendome,  but  without  success; 
there  were  long  catalogues  of  "Milors," 
with  their  "  couriers,"  etc.,  but  not  one 
name  known  to  me  in  the  number. 

I  repaired  to  Galignani's  Library,  which, 
though  crowded  as  ever  with  English,  did 
not  present  to  me  one  familiar  face. 
From  thence  I  turned  into  the  Palais 
Royal,  and  at  last,  completely  jaded  by 
walking,  and  sick  from  disappointment,  I 
sat  down  upon  a  bench  in  the  Tuileries 
Gardens. 

I  had  scarcely  been  there  many  minutes 
when  a  gentleman  accosted  me  in  English, 
saying,  '•  May  I  ask  if  this  be  your  prop- 
erty ?"  showing,  at  the  same  time,  a 
pocket-book  which  I  had  inadvertently 
dropped  in  pulling  out  my  handkerchief. 
As  I  thanked  him  for  his  attention,  and 
was  about  to  turn  away,  I  perceived  that 
he  continued  to  look  very  steadily  at  me. 
At  length  he  said  : — 

"I  think  I  am  not  mistaken  ;  I  have 
the  pleasure  to  see  Mr.  Lorrequer,  who 
may,  perhaps,  recollect  my  name,  Tre- 
vaiiion,  of  the  43d.  The  *  last  time  we 
met  was  at  Malta." 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


143 


"  Oh,  I  remember  perfectly.  Indeed,  I 
should  be  very  ungrateful  if  I  did  uol  : 
for  to  your  kind  offices  there  1  am  indebt- 
ed for  my  life.  You  must  surely  recoiled 
the  street  row  near  the  battery  ? 

'•Yes;  thai  was  rather  a  brisk  affair 
while  it  lasted  ;  but,  pray,  how  long  have 
you  been  here  r " 

"  Merely  a  few  days  ;  and  most  anxious 
am  I  to  leave  as  soon  as  possible  ;  for,  in- 
dependently of  pressing  reasons  to  wish 
myself  elsewhere,  I  have  had  nothing  but 
trouble  and  worry  since  my  arrival,  and  at 
this  instant  am  involved  in  a  duel,  with- 
out the  slightest  cause  that  I  can  discover, 
and,  what  is  still  worse,  without  the  aid 
of  a  single  friend  to  undertake  the  requi- 
site negotiation  for  me." 

"If  my  services  can  in  any  way  as- 
sist  " 

"  Oh,  my  dear  captain,  this  is  really  so 
great  a  favor  that  I  cannot  say  how  much 
I  thank  you." 

'•  Say  nothing  whatever,  but  rest  quite 
assured  that  I  am  completely  at  your  dis- 
posal ;  for  although  we  are  not  very  old 
friends,  yet  I  have  heard  so  much  of  you 
from  some  of  ours,  that. I  feel  as  if  we  had 
been  long  acquainted." 

This  was  an  immense  piece  of  good 
fortune  to  me  ;  for,  of  all  the  persons  I 
knew,  he  was  the  most  suited  to  aid  me  at 
this  moment.  In  addition  to  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  the  Continent  and  its  habits, 
he  spoke  French  fluently,  and  had  been 
the  most  distinguished  authority  in  the 
duello  to  a  large  military  acquaintance  ; 
joining  to  a  consummate  tact  and  clever- 
ness in  bis  diplomacy  a  temper  that  never 
permitted  itself  to  be  ruffled,  and  a  most 
unexceptionable  reputation  for  courage. 
In  a  word  to  have  had  Trevanion  for  your 
second  was  not  only  to  have  secured  odds 
in  your  favor,  but,  still  better,  to  have  ob- 
tained the  certainty  that,  let  the  affair 
take  what  turn  it  might,  you  were  sure  of 
coming  out  of  it  wi£h  credit. 

He  was  the  only  man  I  have  ever  met 
who  had  much  mixed  himself  in  transac- 
tions of  this  nature,  and  yet  never,  by  any 
chance,  had  degenerated  into  the  fire- 
eater  ;  more  quiet,  unassuming  manners  it 
was  impossible  to  meet  with,  and,  in  the 
various  anecdotes  I  had  heard  of  him,  I 
had  always  traced  a  degree  of  forbearance 
that  men  of  less  known  bravery  might  not 
have  ventured  to  practice.  At  the  same 
time,  when  once  roused  by  anything  like 
premeditated  insult — or  predetermined  af- 
front— he  became  almost  ungovernable, 
and  it  would  be  safer  to  beard  the  lion  in 
his  den  than  cross  his  path.     Among  the 


many  stories,  and  there  were  a  great  man* 
current  in  his  regimen!  concerning  him, 
there  was  one  so  singularly  characteristic 

of  I  lie  man,  t  bat,  as  1  Inc.  \  [y  men 

tioned  bis  name  here,  1  ma;,  a    well  relate 

it  ;  ai  i he  8am e  t ime  premising  that,  a-  it 
is  well  known,  1  may  only  be  repeating  an 
often-hi  ard  tale  to  many  of  my  read 

When  the  regiment  to  which  Trevanion 
belonged  became  pari  of  the  army  of  occu- 
pal ion  in  Paris,  he  was  left  at  versail 
seriously  ill  from  the  effects  of  a  Baber- 
wound  he  received  at  Waterloo,  ami  from 
which  his  recovery  at  first  was  exceedingly 
doubtful.  At  the  end  of  several  weeks", 
however,  he  became  out  of  danger,  and 
was  able  to  receive  the  visits  of  his  brother 
officers,  whenever  they  were  fortunate 
enough  to  obtain  a  day's  leave  of  ahsence 
to  run  down  and  see  him.  From  them  he 
learnt  that  one  of  his  oldesi  friends  in  the 
regiment  had  fallen  in  a  duel,  during  the 
time  of  his  illness,  and  that  (wo  other  offi- 
cers were  dangerously  wounded — one  of 
them  was  not  expected  to  survive.  When 
he  inquired  as  to  the  reasons  of  these 
many  disasters,  he  was  informed  that  since 
the  entrance  of  the  allies  into  Paris,  the 
French  officers,  boiling  with  rage  and  in- 
dignation at  their  recent  defeat,  and 
smarting  under  the  hourly  disgrace  which 
the  presence  of  their  conquerors  suggested, 
sought  out,  by  every  means  in  their  power, 
opportunities  of  insult  :  but  always  so  art- 
fully contrived  as  to  render  the  opposite 
party  the  challenger,  thus  reserving  to 
themselves  the  choice  of  the  weapons. 
When,  therefore,  it  is  borne  in  mind  that 
the  French  are  the  most  expert  swordsmen 
in  Europe,  little  doubt  can  exist  as  to  the 
issue  of  these  combats  ;  and.  in  fact,  scarce- 
ly a  morning  passed  without  three  or  four 
English  or  Prussian  officers  being  carried 
through  the  Barriere  de  l'Etoile,  if  not 
dead,  at  least  seriously  wounded,  and  con- 
demned to  carry  with  them  through  life 
the  inflictions  of  a  sanguinary  and  savage 
spirit  of  vengeance. 

While  Trevanion  listened  to  this  sad  re- 
cital— and  scarcely  did  a  day  come  with- 
out adding  to  the  long  catalogue  of  disas- 
ters— he  at  once  perceived  that  the  quiet 
deportment  and  unassuming  demeanor 
which  so  strongly  characterize  the  English 
officer  were  construed  by  their  French  op- 
ponents into  evidences  of  want  of  courage, 
and  saw  that  to  so  systematic  a  plan  for 
slaughter  no  common  remedy  could  be  ap- 
plied, and  that  some  coup  d'etat  was  ab- 
solutely necessary  to  put  it  down  once  and 
for  ever. 

In  the  history  of  these  sanguinary  ren- 


144 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


contres  one  name  was  continually  recur- 
ring, generally  as  the  principal,  sometimes 
the  instigator  of  the  quarrel.  This  was  an 
officer  of  a  chasseur  regiment,  who  had 
the  reputation  of  being  the  best  swordsman 
in  the  whole  French  army,  and  was  no  less 
distinguished  for  his  "skill  at  fence  "  than 
his  uncompromising  hatred  of  the  British, 
with  whom  alone,  of  all  the  allied  forces, 
he  was  ever  known  to  come  in  contact. 
So  celebrated  was  the  "Capitaine  Auguste 
Gendemar"  for  his  pursuits,  that  it  was 
well  known  at  that  time  in  Paris  that  he 
was  the  president  of  a  duelling  club,  asso- 
ciated for  the  express  and  avowed  object 
of  provoking  to  insult,  and  as  certainly- 
dooming  to  death,  every  English  officer 
upon  whom  they  could  fasten  a  quarrel. 

The  Cafe  Phillidor,  at  that  period  in  the 
Rue  Vivienne,  was  the  rendezvous  of  this 
reputable  faction,  and  here  le  Capitaine 
reigned  supreme,  receiving  accounts  of  the 
various  "affairs"  which  were  transacting 
— counseling  and  plotting  for  the  future. 
His  ascendancy  among  his  countrymen 
was  perfectly  undisputed,  and  being  pos- 
sessed of  great  muscular  strength,  and  that 
peculiar  farouche  exterior,  without  which 
courage  is  nothing  in  France,  he  was  in 
every  way  calculated  for  the  infamous  lead- 
ership he  assumed. 

It  was,  unfortunately,  to  this  same  cafe, 
being  situated  in  what  was  called  the  Eng- 
lish quarter,  that  the  officers  of  the  43d 
regiment  were  in  the  habit  of  resorting,  to- 
tally unaware  of  the  plots  by  which  they 
were  surrounded,  and  quite  unsuspecting 
the  tangled  web  of  deliberate  and  cold- 
blooded assassination  in  which  they  were 
involved,  and  here  took  place  the  quarrel, 
the  result  of  which  was  the  death  of  Tre- 
vanion's  friend,  a  young  officer  of  great 
promise,  and  universally  beloved  in  his 
regiment. 

As  Trevanion  listened  to  these  accounts, 
his  impatience  became  daily  greater  that  his 
weak  state  should  prevent  his  being  among 
his  brother  officers,  when  his  advice  and 
assistance  were  so  imperatively  required, 
and  where,  amid  all  the  solicitude  for  his 
perfect  recovery,  he  could  not  but  per- 
ceive they  ardently  wished  for  his  presence. 

The  day  at  last  arrived,  and,  restored  to 
something  like  his  former  self,  Trevanion 
once  more  appeared  in  the  mess-room  of 
his  regiment.  Amid  the  many  sincere  and 
hearty  congratulations  on  his  recovered 
looks  were  not  a  few  half-expressed  hints 
that  he  should  not  go  much  out  into  the 
world,  for  some  little  time  to  come.  To 
these  friendly  admonitions  Trevanion  re- 
plied by   a   good-humored   laugh,   and   a 


ready  assurance  that  he  understood  the  in- 
tended kindness,  and  felt  in  no  wise  dis- 
posed to  be  invalided  again.  "In  fart,' 
said  he,  "  I  have  conic  up  here  to  enjoy 
life  a  little,  not  to  risk  it,  ;  hut  among  tin 
sights  of  your  gay  capital,  1  must  certainly 
have  a  peep  at  your  famed  captain,  of 
whom  I  have  heard  too  much  not  to  feel 
an  interest  in  him." 

Notwithstanding  the  many  objections 
to  this,  made  with  a  view  to  delay  his  visit 
to  the  Phillidor  to  a  later  period,  it  was  at 
length  agreed  that  they  should  all  repair  to 
the  cafe  that  evening,  but  upon  the  ex- 
press understanding  that  every  cause  of 
quarrel  should  be  strictly  avoided,  and 
that  their  stay  should  be  merely  sufficient 
to  satisfy  Trevanion's  curiosity  as  to  the 
appearance  of  the  renowned  captain. 

It  was  rather  before  the  usual  hour  of 
the  cafe's  filling,  that  a  number  of  English 
officers,  among  whom  was  Trevanion,  en- 
tered the  salon  of  the  Phillidor  ;  having 
determined  not  to  attract  any  unusual  at- 
tention, they  broke  into  little  knots  and 
parties  of  threes  and  fours,  and  dispersed 
through  the  room,  where  they  either 
sipped  their  coffee  or  played  at  dominoes, 
then,  as  now,  the  staple  resource  of  a 
French  cafe. 

The  clock  over  the  comptoir  struck 
eight,  and,  at  the  same  instant,  a  waiter 
made  his  appearance,  carrying  a  small 
table,  which  he  placed  beside  the  fire,  and, 
having  trimmed  a  lamp,  and  placed  a  large 
armchair  before  it,  was  about  to  withdraw, 
when  Trevanion,  whose  curiosity  was  rous- 
ed by  the  singularity  of  these  arrange- 
ments, determined  upon  asking  for  whose 
comfort  they  were  intended.  The  waiter 
stared  for  a  moment  at  the  question,  with 
an  air  as  if  doubting  the  seriousness  of 
him  who  put  it,  and  at  last  replied,  "Pour 
Monsieur  le  Capitaine,  je  crois.,,  with  a 
certain  tone  of  significance  upon  the  latter 
words. 

"Le  Capitaine!  but  what  captain?" 
said  he,  carelessly ;  "for  I  am  a  captain, 
and  that  gentleman  there — and  there,  too, 
is  another,"  at  the  same  instant  throwing 
himself  listlessly  into  the  well-cushioned 
chair,  and  stretching  out  his  legs  at  full 
length  upon  the  hearth. 

The  look  of  horror  which  this  quiet  pro- 
ceeding on  his  part  elicited  from  the  poor 
waiter,  so  astonished  Trevanion,  that  he 
could  not  help  saying, — "  Is  there  anything 
the  matter  with  you,  my  friend  ?  Are  ~u 
ill  ?" 

"No,  monsieur,  not  ill;  nothing  ';"-:• 
matter  with  me;  but  you,  sir,  oh,  you, 
sir,  pray  come  away." 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


145 


" Me ! " said Trevanion — "me  !  why,  my 
good  man,  I  was  never  better  in  my  life  : 
so  now  just  bring  me  my  coffee  and  the 
Monitcur,  if  you  have  it;  there  don'l 
stare  that  way,  but  do  as  I  bid  you." 

"There  was  something  in  "the  assured 
tone  of  these  few  words  that  eit  her  over- 
awed or  repressed  every  rising  feeling  of 
the  waiter  for  his  interrogator;  for,  si- 
lently handing  his  coffee  and  the  news- 
paper, he  left  the  room ;  not,  however, 
without  bestowing  a  parting  glance  so  full 
of  terror  and  dismay  that  our  friend  was 
obliged  to  smile  at  it.  All  this  was  the 
work  of  a  few  minutes,  and  not  until  the 
noise  of  new  arrivals  had  attracted  the  at- 
tention of  his  brother  officers,  did  they 
perceive  where  he  had  installed  himself, and 
to  what  danger  he  was  thus,  as  they  sup- 
posed, unwittingly  exposed. 

In  perfect  misery  at  what  they  conceived 
their  own  fault,  in  not  apprising  him  of 
the  sacred  character  of  that  place,  they 
stood  silently  looking  at  him  as  he  con- 
tinued to  sip  his  coffee,  apparently  uncon- 
scious of  everything  and  person  about 
him. 

It  was  now,  however,  too  late  for  remon- 
strance ;  for  already  several  French  officers 
had  noticed  the  circumstance,  and  by  their 
interchange  of  looks  and  signs,  openly 
evinced  their  satisfaction  at  it,  and  their 
delight  at  the  catastrophe  which  seemed 
inevitable  to  the  luckless  Englishman. 

There  was  now  a  more  than  ordinary 
silence  in  the  cafe,  which  at  all  times  was 
remarkable  for  the  quiet  and  noiseless  de- 
meanor of  its  frequenters,  when  the  door 
was  flung  open  by  the  ready  waiter,  and 
the  Capitaine  Auguste  Gendemar  entered. 
He  was  a  large  squarely-built  man,  with  a 
most  savage  expression  of  countenance, 
which  a  bushy  beard  and  shaggy  overhang- 
ing moustache  served  successfully  to  assist; 
his  eyes  were  shaded  by  deep,  projecting 
brows,  and  long  eyebrows  slanting  over 
them,  and  increasing  their  look  of  piercing 
sharpness  ;  there  was  in  his  whole  air  and 
demeanor  that  certain  French  air  of  swag- 
gering bullyism  which  ever  remained  in 
those  who,  having  risen  from  the  ranks, 
maintained  the  look  of  ruffianly  defiance 
which  gave  their  early  character  for  cou- 
rage its  peculiar  merit. 

To  the  friendly  salutations  of  his  coun- 
trymen he  returned  the  slightest  and  cold- 
est acknowledgments,  throwing  a  glance 
of  disdain  around  him  as  he  wended  his 
way  to  his  accustomed  place  beside  the 
fire  ;  this  he  did  with  as  much  of  noise 
and  swagger  as  he  could  well  contrive  ; 
his  saber  and  sabretasche  clanking  behind, 

VOL.  I. — 10 


his  spurs  jangling,  and  his  heavy  step, 
made  purposely  heavier  to  draw  upon  him 
the  notice  and  attention  he  Bought  for. 
Trevanion  alone  testified  no  consc 
of  his  entrance,  and  appeared  totally  en- 
grossed by  the  columns  of  his  newspaper, 
from  which  he  never  lifted  his  eyes  Cor  an 
instant.  Le  Capitaine  ai  length  reached 
the  fire-place,  when,  no  sooner  did  he  be- 
hold his  accustomed  seal  in  the  possession 
of  another,  than  he  absolutely  started  back 
with  surprise  and  anger. 

What  might  have  been  his  fir.-t  impulse 
it  is  hard  to  say,  for,  as  the  blood  rushed 
to  his  face  and  forehead,  he  clenched  his 
hands  firmly,  and  seemed  for  an  instant, 
as  he  eyed  the  stranger,  like  a  tiger  about 
to  spring  upon  its  victim  ;  this  was  but  for 
a  second,  for  turning  rapidly  round  to- 
ward his  friends,  he  gave  them  a  look  of 
peculiar  meaning,  showing  two  rows  of 
white  teeth,  with  a  grin  which  seemed  to 
say,  "  I  have  taken  my  line  :  "  and  he  had 
done  so.  He  now  ordered  the  waiter,  in  a 
voice  of  thunder,  to  bring  him  a  chair. 
This  he  took  roughly  from  him  and  placed, 
with  a  crash,  upon  the  floor,  exactly  op- 
posite that  of  Trevanion.  and  still  so  ) 
as  scarcely  to  permit  of  his  sitting  down 
upon  it.  The  noisy  vehemence  of  this 
action  at  last  appeared  to  have  rous<  d 
Trevanion's  attention,  for  he  now.  for  the 
first  time,  looked  up  from  his  paper,  and 
quietly  regarded  his  vis-a-vis.  There 
could  not  in  the  world  be  a  stronger  con- 
trast to  the  bland  look  and  courteous  ex- 
pression of  Trevanion's  handsome  features, 
than  the  savage  scowl  of  the  enraged 
Frenchman,  in  whose  face  the  strong  and 
ill-repressed  workings  of  passion  were 
twitching  and  distorting  every  lineament 
and  line  ;  indeed  no  words  could  ever  con- 
vey half  so  forcibly  as  did  that  look,  insult 
— open,  palpable,  deep,  determined  insult  ! 

Trevanion,  whose  eyes  had  been  merely 
for  a  moment  lifted  from  his  paper,  again 
fell,  and  he  appeared  to  take  no  notice 
whatever  of  the  extraordinary  proximity 
of  the  Frenchman,  still  less  of  the  savage 
and  insulting  character  of  his  looks. 

Le  Capitaine,  having  thus  failed  to  bring 
on  the  explanation  he  sought  for,  proceed- 
ed to  accomplish  it  by  other  means;  for, 
taking  the  lamp,  by  the  light  of  which 
.Trevanion  was  still  reading,  he  placed  it 
at  his  side  of  the  table,  and  at  the  same 
instant  stretching  across  his  arm.  he 
plucked  the  newspaper  from  his  hand, 
giving  at  the  same  moment  a  glance  of 
triumph  toward  the  bystanders,  as  though 
he  would  say,  "You  see  what  he  must 
submit  to."     Words  cannot  describe    the 


14G 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


astonishment  of  the  British  officers,  as 
they  beheld  'Prevail ion,  under  this  gross 
and  open  insult,  content  himself  by  a  slight 
smile   and    half    bow,    as    if   returning   a 

courtesy,  and  then  throw  his  eyes  down- 
ward, as  if  engaged  in  doe])  thought, 
while  the  triumphant  sneer  of  the  French. 
at  this  unaccountable  conduct,  was  abso- 
lutely maddening  to  them  to  endure. 

But  their  patience  was  destined  to  sub- 
mit to  stronger  proof,  for  at  this  instant 
le  Capitaine  stretched  forth  one  enormous 
leg,  cased  in  his  massive  jack-boot,  and 
with  a  crash  deposited  the  heel  upon  the 
foot  of  their  friend  Trevanion.  At  length 
he  is  roused,  thought  they,  for  a  slight 
flush  of  crimson  flitted  across  his  cheek, 
and  his  upper  lip  trembled  with  a  quick 
spasmodic  twitching  ;  but  both  these  signs 
were  over  in  a  second,  and  his  features 
were  as  calm  and  unmoved  as  before,  and 
his  only  appearance  of  consciousness  of 
the  affront  was  given  by  his  drawing  back 
his  chair  and  placing  his  legs  beneath  it, 
as  if  for  protection. 

This  last  insult,  and  the  tame  forbear- 
ance with  which  it  was  submitted  to,  pro- 
duced all  their  opposite  effects  upon  the 
bystanders,  and  looks  of  ungovernable  rage 
and  derisive  contempt  were  every  moment 
interchanging  ;  indeed,  were  it  not  for  the 
all-absorbing  interest  which  the  two  great 
actors  in  the  scene  had  concentrated  upon 
themselves,  the  two  parties  must  have 
come  at  once  into  open  conflict. 

The  clock  of  the  cafe  struck  nine,  the 
hour  at  which  Gendemar  always  retired, 
so  calling  to  the  waiter  for  his  glass  of 
brandy,  he  placed  his  newspaper  upon  the 
table,  and  putting  both  his  elbows  upon  it, 
and  his  chin  upon  his  hands,  he  stared 
full  in  Trevanion's  face,  with  a  look  of 
the  most  derisive  triumph,  meant  to  crown 
the  achievement  of  the  evening.  To  this, 
as  to  all  his  former  insults,  Trevanion  ap- 
peared still  insensible,  and  merely  regarded 
him  with  his  never-changing  half  smile  ; 
the  brandy  arrived  ;  Le  Capitaine  took  it 
in  his  hand,  and  with  a  nod  of  most  in- 
sulting familiarity,  saluted  Trevanion,  add- 
ing with  a  loud  voice,  so  as  to  be  heard 
on  every  side — "  A  votre  courage,  Ang- 
lais." He  had  scarcely  swallowed  the  liq- 
uor, when  Trevanion  rose  slowly  from  his 
chair,  displaying  to  the  astonished  gaze  of 
the  Frenchman  the  immense  proportions 
and  gigantic  frame  of  a  man  well-known 
as  the  largest  officer  in  the  British  army  ; 
with  one  stride  he  was  beside  the  chair  of 
the  Frenchman,  and  with  the  speed  of 
lightning  he  seized  his  nose  by  one  hand, 
while  with  the  other  he  grasped  his  lower 


jaw,  ami,  wrenching  open  his  mouth  with 
the  strength  of  an  ogre,  he  spat  down  his 
throat. 

So  sudden  was  the  movement,  that  he- 
fore  ten  seconds  had  elapsed,  all  was  over, 
and  the  Frenchman  rushed  from  the  room, 
holding  the  fragments  of  his  jaw-bone 
(for  it  was  fractured  !),  and  followed  by 
his  countrymen,  who,  from  that  hour,  de- 
serted the  Cafe  I'hillidor;  nor  was  there 
ever  any  mention  of  the  famous  captain 
during  the  stay  of  the  regiment  in  Paris. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


DIFFICULTIES. 


While  we  walked  together  toward 
Meurice's,  I  explained  to  Trevanion  the 
position  in  which  I  stood  ;  and  having  de- 
tailed, at  full  length,  the  row  at  the  salon, 
and  the  imprisonment  of  O'Leary,  entreat- 
ed his  assistance  in  behalf  of  him,  as  well 
as  to  free  me  from  some  of  my  many  em- 
barrassments. 

It  was  strange  enough — though  at  first 
so  pre-occupied  was  I  with  other  thoughts, 
that  I  paid  but  little  attention  to  it — that 
no  part  of  my  eventful  evening  seemed  to 
make  so  strong  an  impression  on  him  as 
my  mention  of  having  seen  my  cousin 
Guy,  and  heard  from  him  of  the  death  of 
my  uncle.  At  this  portion  of  my  story 
he  smiled,  with  so  much  significance  of 
meaning,  that  I  could  not  help  asking  his 
reason. 

"  It  is  always  an  unpleasant  task,  Mr. 
Lorrecpier,  to  speak  in  any  way  however 
delicately,  in  a  tone  of  disparagement  of  a 
man's  relative  ;  and  therefore,  as  we  arc 
not  long  enough  acquainted " 

"But  pray,"  said  I,  "waive  that  con- 
sideration, and  only  remember  the  position 
in  which  I  now  am.  If  you  know  any- 
thing of  this  business,  I  entreat  you  to 
tell  me — I  promise  to  take  whatever  you 
may  be  disposed  to  communicate,  in  the 
same  good  part  it  is  intended." 

"  Well,  then,  I  believe  you  are  right ; 
but  first,  let  me  ask  you,  how  do  you  know 
of  your  uncle's  death  ;  for  I  have  reason 
to  doubt  it  ?  " 

"  From  Guy  :  he  told  me  himself." 

"When  did  you  see  him,  and  where  ?" 

"  Why,  I  have  just  told  you  ;  I  saw  him 
last  night  at  the  salon." 

"  And  you  could  not  be  mistaken  ?  " 

"  Impossible  !  Besides,  he  wrote  to  me 
a  note  which  I  received  this  morning — 
here  it  is." 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


147 


"Hem — ha.  Well,  arc  yon  satisfied 
that  it  is  his  handwriting  ?"  said  Trevan- 
ion,  as  he  perused  the  note  slowly  twice 
over. 

"  Wliy  of  course — but  stop — you  are 
right ;  it  is  no!  his  hand,  nor  do  I  know  t  he 
writing,  now  that  you  direct  my  at  lent  ion 
to  it.  But  what  can  that  mean  ?  You, 
surely,  clo  not  suppose!  that  I  have  mistak- 
en any  one  for  him  ;  for,  independent  of 
all  else,  his  knowledge  of  my  family,  and 
my  uncle's  affairs,  would  quite  disprove 
that," 

"  This  is  really  a  complex  affair,"  said 
Trevanion.  musingly.  "  How  long  may  it 
be  since  you  saw  your  cousin. — before  last 
night,  I  mean  ?" 

"  Several  years  ;  above  six,  certainly." 

"Oh,  it  is  quite  possible,  then,"  said 
Trevanion,  musingly;  "do  you  know,  Mr. 
Lorrequer,  this  affair  seems  more  puzzling 
to  me  than  to  you,  and  for  this  plain  rea- 
son— I  am  disposed  to  think  you  never 
saw  your  cousin  last  night." 

"  Why,  confound  it,  there  is  one  circum- 
stance that  I  think  may  satisfy  you  on  that 
head.  You  will  not  deny  that  I  saw  some 
one,  who  very  much  resembled  him ;  and, 
certainly,  as  he  lent  me  above  three  thou- 
sand francs  to  play  with  at  the  table,  it 
looks  rather  more  like  his  act  than  that  of 
a  perfect  stranger." 

"  Have  you  got  the  money  ? "  asked 
Trevanion,  dryly. 

"  Yes,"  said  I ;  "but  certainly  you  arc 
the  most  unbelieving  of  mortals,  and  I  am 
quite  happy  that  I  have  yet  in  my  posses- 
sion two  of  the  billets  de  banque,  for,  I 
suppose,  without  them,  you  would  scarcely 
credit  me."  I  here  opened  my  pocket- 
book,  and  produced  the  notes. 

He  took  them,  examined  them  atten- 
tively for  an  instant,  held  them  between 
him  and  the  light,  refolded  them,  and, 
having  placed  them  in  my  pocket-book, 
said,  "  I  thought  as  much — they  are  for- 
geries." 

"  Hold  !  "  said  I ;  "  my  cousin  Guy, 
whatever  wildness  he  may  have  committed, 
is  yet  totally  incapable  of " 

"  I  never  said  the  contrary,"  replied  Tre- 
vanion, in  the  same  dry  tone  as  before. 

"  Then  what  can  you  mean,  for  I  see  no 
alternative  between  that  and  totally  dis- 
crediting the  evidence  of  my  senses?" 

"Perhaps  I  can  suggest  a  middle 
course,"  said  Trevanion  ;  "lend  me,  there- 
fore, a  patient  hearing  for  a  few  moments, 
and  I  may  be  able  to  throw  some  light  up- 
on this  difficult  matter.  You  may  never 
have  heard  that  there  is,  in  this  same  city 
of  Paris,  a  person  so  extremely  like  your 


cousin  Guy,  (hat  his  most  intimate  friends 
have  daily  mistaken  our  for  I  he  o\  her,  and 
ihi-  nn-take  has  the  more  often  been  made 
from  the  circumstances  of  t heir  both  being 
in  the  habit  of  frequenting  t he  sami 
in  society,  where,  knowing  and  walking 
with  t  hr  same  people,  t  he  difficulty  of  dis- 
criminating   has  peen    great  ly   inert  as<  d. 

This  individual,  who  has  too  many  aliases 
for  one  to  know  which  to  particularize  him 
by,  is  one  of  that,  numerous  order  of  be 
ings  which  a  high  state  of  civilization  is 
always  engendering  and  throwing  \\\>  on 
the  surface  of  society  :  he  is  a  man  of  low 
birth  and  mean  connect  ion-,  bul  gifted 
with  most  taking  manners  and  an  un- 
exceptional addressand  appearance.  '! 
advantages,  and  the  possession  of  appar- 
ently independent  mean-,  have  opened  to 
him  the  access  to  a  certain  set  of  people, 
who  are  well  known  and  well  received  in 
society,  and  obtained  for  him,  what  he 
prizes  much  more,  the'  admission  into  sev- 
eral clubs  where  high  play  is  carried  on. 
In  this  mixed  assemblage,  which  sporting 
habits  and  gambling  (that  grand  levelerof 
all  distinctions)  have  brought  together, 
this  man  and  your  cousin  Guy  met  fre- 
quently, and,  from  the  constant  allusion  to 
the  wonderful  resemblance  between  them, 
your  eccentric  cousin,  who.  1  mud,  say,  was 
never  too  select  in  his  acquaintances,  fre- 
quently amused  himself  by  practical  jokes 
upon  his  friends,  which  served  still  more  to 
nurture  the  intimacy  between  them  ;  and, 
from  this  habit,  Mr.  Dudley  Morewood, 
for  such  is  his  latest  patronymic,  must 
have  enjoyed  frequent  opportunities  of 
hearing  much  of  your  family  and  rela- 
tions, a  species  of  information  he  never  ne- 
glected, though  at  the  moment  it  might 
appear  not  so  immediately  applicable  to 
his  purposes.  Now,  this  man.  who  knows 
of  every  new  English  arrival  in  Paris,  with 
as  much  certainty  as  the  police  itself, 
would  at  once  be  aware  <>i'  your  being  here, 
and  having  learned  from  Guy  how  little 
intercourse  there  had  been  of  late  years 
between  you,  would  not  lei  slip  an  oppor- 
tunity of  availing  himself  of  the  likeness  if 
anything  could  hereby  turn  to  his  profit." 

"Stop  !"  cried  I;  "you  have  opened 
my  eyes  completely,  for  now  I  remember 
that,  as  I  continued  to  win  last  night,  this 
man,  who  was  playing  hazard  at  another 
table,  constantly  borrowed  from  me,  but 
always  in  gold,  invariably  refusing  the 
bank-notes  as  too  high  for  his  game. 

"There  his  object  was  clear  enough  ; 
for,  besides  obtaining  yaur  gold,  he  made 
you  the  means  of  disseminating  his  false 
billets  de  batiqut 


148 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


"  So  that  I  have  been  actually  playing 
and  winning  upon  this  fellow's  forgeries," 
said  I  ;  "and  am  perhaps  at  this  very  in- 
stant inscribed  in  the  Livre  noir  of  the 
police  as  a  most  accomplished  swindler; 
but  what  could  be  the;  intention  of  his  note 
this  morning  ?  " 

"As  to  that,"  said. Trevanion,  "it  is 
hard  to  say  ;  one  thing  yon  may  assuredly 
rely  upon — it  is  not  an  unnecessary  epistle, 
whatever  be  its  object  ;  he  never  wastes  his 
powder  when  the  game  flies  too  high  ;  so 
we  must  only  wait  patiently  for  the  un- 
ravelment  of  his  plans,  satisfied  that  we, 
at  least,  know  something.  What  most  sur- 
prises me  is,  his  venturing,  at  present,  to 
appear  in  public  ;  for  it  is  not  above  two 
months  since  an  escapade  of  his  attracted 
so  much  attention  in  the  play  world  here, 
that  he  was  obliged  to  leave,  and  it  was 
supposed  that  he  would  never  return  to 
Paris." 

"One  piece  of  good  fortune  there  is  at 
least,"  said  I,  "  which,  I  can  safely  say,  re- 
pays me  for  any  and  all  the  annoyance  this 
unhappy  affair  may  cause  me  ;  it  is,  that 
my  poor  old  uncle  is  still  alive  and  well. 
Not  all  my  anticipated  pleasures,  in  newly 
acquired  wealth,  could  have  afforded  me 
the  same  gratification  that  this  fact  does, 
for,  although  never  so  much  his  favorite 
as  my  cousin,  yet  the  sense  of  protection 
— the  feeling  of  confidence,  which  is  in- 
separable from  the  degree  of  relationship 
between  us — standing,  as  he  has  ever  done, 
in  the  light  of  a  father  to  me,  is  infinitely 
more  pleasurable  than  the  possession  of 
riches,  which  must  ever  suggest  to  me  the 
recollection  of  a  kind  friend  lost  to  me 
for  ever.  But  so  many  thoughts  press  on 
me — so  many  effects  of  this  affair  are 
staring  me  in  the  face — I  really  know  not 
which  way  to  turn,  nor  can  I  even  collect 
my  ideas  sufficiently  to  determine  what  is 
first  to  be  done." 

"  Leave  all  that  to  me,"  said  Trevanion  ; 
"  it  is  a  tangled  web,  but  I  think  I  can  un- 
ravel it ;  meanwhile,  where  does  the  cap- 
tain reside?  for,  among  all  your  pressing 
engagements,  this  affair  with  the  French- 
man must  come  off  first ;  and  for  this  rea- 
son, although  you  are  not  really  obliged  to 
give  him  satisfaction,  by  his  merely  pro- 
ducing your  card,  and  insisting  that  you 
are  to  be  responsible  for  the  misdeeds  of 
any  one  who  might  show  it  as  his  own  ad- 
dress, yet  I  look  upon  it  as  a  most  fortu- 
nate thing,  while  charges  so  heavy  may  be 
at  this  moment  hanging  over  your  head, 
as  the  proceedings  of  last  night  involve, 
that  you  have  a  public  opportunity  of 
meeting  an  antagonist  in  the  field — there- 


by evincing  no  fear  of  publicity,  nor  an j 
intention    of   absconding;   for  be  assured 

that  the  police  are  at  this  moment  in  pos- 
ion  of  what  has  occurred,  and  from 
the  fracas  which  followed  are  well  dis- 
posed to  regard  the  whole  as  a  concerted 
scheme  to  seize  upon  the  property  of  the 
banque,  a  not  uncommon  wind-up  here 
when  luck  fails.  My  advice  is,  therefore, 
meet  the  man  at  once  ;  I  shall  take  care 
that  the  Prefect  is  informed  that  you  have 
been  imposed  upon  by  a  person  passing 
himself  off  as  your  relative,  and  enter  bail 
for  your  appearance,  whenever  you  are 
called  upon  ;  that  being  done,  we  shall 
have  time  for  a  moment's  respite  to  look 
around  us,  and  consider  the  other  bearings 
of  this  difficult  business." 

"  Here,  then,  is  the  card  of  address," 
said  I ;  "  Eugene  de  Joncourt,  Capitaine 
de  Oavalerie,  No.  8,  Chaussee  d'Antin." 

"  De  Joncourt!  why,  confound  it,  this 
is  not  so  pleasant ;  he  is  about  the  best 
shot  in  Paris,  and  a  very  steady  swordsman 
besides.     I  don't  like  this." 

"  But  you  forget  he  is  the  friend,  not 
the  principal  here." 

"  The  more  good  fortune  yours,"  said 
Trevanion,  drily;  "for  I  acknowledge  I 
should  not  give  much  for  your  chance  at 
twenty  paces  opposite  his  pistol ;  then,  who 
is  the  other  ?  " 

"  Le  Baron  d'Haulpenne,"  said  I,  "and 
his  name  is  all  that  I  know  of  him  ;  his 
very  appearance  is  unknown  to  me." 

"  I  believe  I  am  acquainted  with  him," 
said  Trevanion  ;  "  but  here  we  are  at  Meu- 
rice's.  Now  I  shall  just  write  a  few  lines  to 
a  legal  friend,  who  will  manage  to  liberate 
Mr.  O'Leary,  whose  services  we  shall  need 
— two  persons  are  usual  on  each  side  in 
this  country — and  then,  '  to  business.' ' 

The  note  written  and  dispatched,  Tre- 
vanion jumped  into  a  cab,  and  set  out  for 
the  Chaussee  d'Antin  ;  leaving  me  to  think 
over,  as  well  as  I  could,  the  mass  of  trouble 
and  confusion  in  which  twrenty-four  hours 
of  life  in  Paris  had  involved  me. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 


EXPLANATION. 


It  was  past  seven  o'clock  when  Trevan- 
ion made  his  appearance,  accompanied  by 
OTLeary  ;  and  having  in  a  few  words  in- 
formed me  that  a  meeting  was  fixed  for  the 
following  morning  near  St.  Cloud,  propos- 
ed that  we  should  at  once  go  to  dinner  at 
Very's,  after  which  we  should  have  plenty 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


149 


of  time  to  discuss  the  various  steps  to  be 
taken.  A.s  we  were  leaving  the  hotel  for 
this  purpose,  a  waiter  requested  of  trie  to 
permit  Mr.  Meurice  to  speak  a  few  words 
tome;  which,  having  agreed  to,  I  entered 
the  lit  tie  bureau  where  I  his  I  !zar  of  Hotels 
sits  enthroned,  and  what  was  my  surprise 
to  learn  the  request  he  had  to  prefer  was 
nothing  less  than  that  1  would  so  far  oblige 
him  as  to  vacate  the  apartment  1  possessi  ! 
in  the  hotel,  adding  that  my  compliance 
would  confer  upon  him  the  power  to  ac- 
commodate a  "  Milord/"'  who  had  written 
for  apartments,  and  was  coming  with  a, 
large  suite  of  servants.  Suspecting  that 
some  rumor  of  the  late  affair  at  Frascati's 
might  have  influenced  my  friend  M ounce 
in  this  unusual  demand,  I  abruptly  refused, 
and  was  about  to  turn  away,  when  he,  per- 
haps, guessing  that  I  had  not  believed  his 
.statements,  handed  me  an  open  letter,  sav- 
ing, "  You  see,  sir,  this  is  the  letter  ;  and, 
as  I  am  so  pressed  for  spare  room,  I  must 
now  refuse  the  writer." 

As  my  eye  glanced  at  the  writing,  I 
started  hack  with  amazement  to  perceive  it 
was  in  my  cousin  Guy's  hand,  requesting 
that  apartments  might  be  retained  for  Sir 
Guy  Lorrequer,  my  uncle,  who  was  to  ar- 
rive in  Paris  by  the  end  of  the  week.  If 
any  doubt  had  remained  on  my  mind  as  to 
the  deception  I  had  been  duped  by,  this 
would  completely  have  dispelled  it,  but  I 
had  long  before  been  convinced  of  the  trick, 
ami  only  wondered  how  the  false  Guy — Mr. 
Dudley  Morewood — had  contrived  to  pre- 
sent himself  to  me  so  opportunely,  and  by 
what  means,  in  so  short  a  space  of  time,  he 
bad  become  acquainted  with  my  personal 
appearance. 

As  I  mentioned  this  circumstance,  of 
the  letter  to  Trevanion,  he  could  not  con- 
ceal his  satisfaction  at  his  sagacity  in  un- 
ravelling the  mystery,  while  this  new 
intelligence  confirmed  the  justness  and  ac- 
curacy of  all  his  explanations. 

As  we  walked  along  towards  the  Palais 
Royal,  Trevanion  endeavored,  not  very 
successfully,  to  explain  to  my  friend 
O'Leary  the  nature  of  the  trick  which  had 
been  practised,  promising,  at  another  time, 
some  revelations  concerning  the  accom- 
plished individual  who  had  planned  it, 
which  in  boldness  and  daring  eclipsed  even 
this. 

Any  one  who  in  waking  has  had  the 
confused  memory  of  a  dream  in  which 
events  have  been  so  mingled  and  mixed  as 
to  present  no  uniform  narrative,  but  only 
a  mass  of  strange  and  incongruous  occur- 
rences, without  object  or  connection,  may 
form  some  notion  of  the  state  of  restless 


excitement  my  brain  suffered  from,  as  the 
many  and  conflicting  ideas  mj  late  adven- 
tures  suggested,  presented    themselves   to 

my  mind  in  rapid  succession. 

The  glare,  t  he  noise,  and  t  he  clatter  of  a 
French  cafe   are  certainly  not    th< 
mosl  in  request  for  restoring  a  man  to  the 
enjoymenl  of  his  erring  faculties  ;  and.  if 
I  felt   addled  and    confused  before,]   had 
scarct  ly    pas  ji  d     I  he    i  hreshold    of    Vi 
when   1  became    absolutely    like  one  in   a 
1  rauce.     The    large  salon    was  more   t  han 
usually  crowded,  and  it  was  with  difficulty 
that  we  obtained  a   place  al    a   table  whi 
some   other  English     were  seated,    among 
whom    1    recognized    my    lately  math'    ac- 
quaintance, Mr.  Edward  Bingham. 

Excepting  a  cup  of  coffee,  1  had  taken 
nothing  the  entire  daw  and  so  completely 
did  my  anxieties  of  different  kind-  subdue 
all  appetite,  that  the  most  exquisite  viands 
of  this  well-known  restaurant  did  not  in 
the  least  tempt  me.  The  champagne  alone 
bad  any  attraction  for  me  ;  and,  seduced 
by  the  icy  coldness  of  the  wine,  I  drank 
copiously.  This  was  all  that  was  wanting 
to  complete  the  maddening  confusion  of 
my  brain,  and  the  effed  was instantam 
the  lights  danced  before  my  eves ;  the  lus- 
tres whirled  round  ;  and,  as  the  scattered 
fragments  of  conversations  on  either  side 
met  my  ear,  I  was  able  to  form  some  not 
very  inaccurate  conception  cf  what  insan- 
ity might  be.  Politics  and  literature, 
Mexican  bonds  and  Noblet's  \egs,Pdtes  de 
perdreaux  and  the  quarantine  laws,  the  ex- 
treme gauche  and  the  Roulette,  Victor 
Hugo  and  Rouge  et  Noir,  had  formed  a 
species  of  grand  ballet  d'action  in  my  fev- 
ered brain,  and  I  was  perfectly  beside  my- 
self ;  occasionally,  too,  I  would  revert  to 
my  own  concerns,  although  I  was  scarcely 
able  to  follow  up  any  train  of  thought  for 
more  than  a  few  seconds  together,  and  to- 
tally inadequate  to  distinguish  the  fa 
from  the  true.  I  continued  to  confound 
the  counterfeit  with  my  cousin,  and 
wonder  how  my  poor  uncle,  for  whom  I 
was  about  to  put  on  the  deepest  mourning, 
could  possibly  think  of  driving  me  out  oi 
my  lodgings. "  Of  my  duel  for  the  morning 
I  had  the  most  shadowy  recollection,  and 
could  not  perfectly  comprehend  whether  it 
was  O'Leary  or  myself  was  the  principal, 
and,  indeed",  cared*  but  little.  In  this  hap- 
py state  of  independent  existence  I  must 
have  passed  a  considerable  time,  and  as  m\ 
total  silence  when  spoken  to,  or  my  irrel- 
evant answers,  appeared  to  have  tired  out 
my  companions,  they  left  me  to  the  unin- 
terrupted enjoyment  of  my  own  pleasant 
imaginings. 


150 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


"Do  you  hear,  Lorrequer,"  at  last  said 
Trevanion  ;    "are    you   asleep,    my    dear 

friend  ?  This  gentleman  has  been  good 
enough  to  invite  us  to  breakfast  to-morrow 
at  St.'  Cloud." 

I  looked  up,  and  was  just  able  to  recog- 
nize the  well-trimmed  mustache  of  Mr. 
Edward  Bingham,  as  he  stood  mumbling 
something  before  me.  "  St.  Cloud — what 
of  St.  Cloud  ?"saidl. 

"'We  bave  something  in  that  quarter  to- 
morrow." 

"  What  is  it,  O'Leary  ?     Can  we  go  ?" 

"Oil!  certainly.  Our  engagement  is  an 
early  one." 

"  We  shall  accept  your  polite  invitation 
with  pleasure " 

Here  he  stooped  over,  and  whispered 
something  in  my  ear  ;  what,  I  cannot  say  ; 
but  I  know  that  my  reply,  now  equally 
lost  to  me,  produced  a  hearty  fit  of  laugh- 
ing to  my  two  friends. 

My  next  recollection  is,  finding  myself 
in  a  crowded  box  at  the  theatre.  It  seems 
that  O'Leary  had  acceeded  to  a  proposal 
from  some  of  the  other  party  to  accom- 
pany them  to  the  Porte  St.  Martin,  where 
Mrs.  Bingham  and  her  daughter  had  en- 
gaged a  box.  Amid  all  the  confusion 
which  troubled  thoughts  and  wine  pro- 
duced in  me,  I  could  not  help  perceiving 
a  studied  politeness  and  attention  on  the 
part  of  Mr.  Edward  Bingham  towards  me  ; 
and  my  first  sobering  reflection  came,  on 
finding  that  a  place  was  reserved  for  me 
besides  Miss  Bingham,  into  which,  by 
some  contrivance  I  can  in  no  wise  explain, 
I  found  myself  almost  immediately  in- 
stalled. To  all  the  excitement  of  cham- 
pagne and  punch,  let  the  attractions  of  a 
French  ballet  be  added,  and  with  a  singu- 
lar pretty  companion  at  your  side,  to  whom 
you  have  already  made  sufficient  advances 
to  be  aware  that  you  are  no  longer  indiffer- 
ent to  her,  and  I  venture  to  predict  that  it 
is  much  more  likely  your  conversation  will 
incline  to  flirting  than  political  economy  ; 
and,  moreover,  that  you  make  more  prog- 
ress during  the  performance  of  one  single 
pas  de  deux  upon  the  stage,  than  you  have 
hitherto  done  in  ten  morning  calls,  with 
an  unexceptionable  whisker,  and  tbe  best 
fitting  gloves  in  Paris.  Alas  !  alas  !  it  is 
only  'the  rich  man  that  ever  wins  at  rouge 
et  noir.  The  well-insured  Indiaman,  with 
her  cargo  of  millions,  comes  safe  into 
port  ;  while  the  whole  venture  of  some 
hardy  veteran  of  the  wave  founders  within 
sight  of  his  native  shore.  So  is  it  ever  ; 
where  success  would  be  all  and  everything, 
it  never  comes  :  but  only  be  indifferent  or 
Regardless,  and  fortune  is  at  your  feet,  su- 


ing and  imploring  your  acceptance  of  hei 
favors.  Wnat  would  1  not  bave  given  for 
our  half  of  that  solicitude  now  so  kindly 
expressed  in  my  favor  by  Miss  Bingham, 
if  syllabled  by  tbe  lips  of  Lady  Jane 
Callonby  !  How  would  my  heart  have 
throbbed  for  one  light  smile  from  one, 
while  I  ungratefully  basked  in  the  openly 
avowed  preference  of  the  other  !  These 
were  my  first  thoughts — what  were  tRe 
succeeding  ones  ? 

"Elle  est  tres  Men!''''  said  a  French- 
woman, turning  round  in  the  box  next  to 
us,  and  directing  at  the  same  moment  the 
eyes  of  a. mustachioed  hero  upon  my  fair 
companion. 

What  a  turn  to  my  thoughts  did  this 
unexpected  ejaculation  give  rise  to  !  I  now 
began  to  consider  her  more  attentively, 
and  certainly  concurred  fully  in  the 
Frenchwoman's  verdict.  I  bad  never  seen 
her  look  half  so  well  before.  Tbe  great 
fault  in  her  features,  which  were  most 
classically  regular,  lay  in  the  monotony 
and  uniform  character  of  their  expression. 
Now  this  was  quite  changed.  Her  cheek 
was  slightly  flushed,  and  her  eyes  more 
brilliant  than  ever  ;  while  her  slightly 
parted  lips  gave  a  degree  of  speaking  ear- 
nestness to  her  expression,  that  made  her 
perfectly  beautiful. 

Whether  it  was  from  this  cause  I  cannot 
say,  but  J.  certainly  never  felt  so  suddenly 
decided  in  my  life  from  one  course  to  its 
very  opposite,  as  I  now  did  to  pay  atten- 
tion to  my  lovely  companion.  And  here, 
P  fear,  I  must  acknowledge,  in  the  honesty 
of  these  confessional  details,  that  vanity 
bad.  also  its  share  in  the  decision.  To  bs 
the  admitted  and  preferred  suitor  of  the 
prettiest  woman  in  company,  is  generally 
a  strong  inducement  to  fall  desperately  in 
love  with  her,  independently  of  other 
temptations  for  so  doing. 

How  far  my  successes  tallied  with  my 
good  intentions  in  this  respect,  I  cannot 
now  say.  I  only  remember,  that  more  than 
once  O'Leary  whispered  to  me  something 
like  a  caution  of  some  sort  or  other;  but 
Emily's  encouraging  smiles  and  still  more 
encouraging  speeches,  had  far  more  effect 
upon  me  than  all  the  eloquence  of  the 
united  service,  had  it  been  engaged  in  my 
behalf,  would  have  effected.  Mrs.  Bing- 
ham, too — who,  to  do  her  justice,  seemed 
but  little  cognizant  of  our  proceedings — 
from  time  to  time  evinced  that  species  of 
motherly  satisfaction  which  very  young 
men  rejoice  much  in,  and  older  ones  are 
considerably  alarmed  at. 

The  play  over,  O'Leary  charged  himself 
with  the  protection  of  madam,  while  1  en- 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


151 


veloped  Emily  in  her  shawl,  and  drew  her 
arm  within  my  own.  What  my  hand  had 
to  do  with  hera  I  knew  not  ;  it  remains 
one  of  the  unexplained  difficulties  of  that 

eventful  evening.  1  have  it  is  true,  a  ha- 
zy recollection  of  pressing  some  very  taper 
and  delicately-formed  finger;  and  remem- 
ber, too,  the  pain  1  felt  next  morning  on 
awaking,  by  the  pressure  of  a  too  tighi 
ring,  which  had.  by  some  strange  accident, 
found  its  way  to  my  finger,  for  which  its 
size  was  hut  ill  adapted. 

"You  will  join  us  at  supper,  I  hope." 
said  Mrs.  Bingham,  as  Trevanion  handed 
her  to  her  carriage.  "  Mr.  Lorrcquer,  Mr. 
O'Leary,  we  shall  expect  you." 

I  was  about  to  promise  to  do  so,  when 
Trevanion  suddenly  interrupted  me,  saying 
that  he  had  already  accepted  an  invitation, 
which  would,  unfortunately,  prevent  us  ; 
and  having  hastily  wished  the  ladies  good 
night,  hurried  me  away  so  abruptly,  that 
1  had  not  a  moment  given  for  even  one 
"parting  look  at  the  fair  Emily. 

••  Why.  Trevanion,"  said  I,  "what  invi- 
tation are  you  dreaming  of  ?  I,  for  one, 
should  have  been  delighted  to  have  gone 
home  with  the  Binghams." 

"So  I  perceived,"  said  Trevanion, 
gravely  ;  '"'and  it  was  for  that  precise  rea- 
son I  so  firmly  refused  what,  individually, 
I  might  have  been  most  happy  to  accept.*' 

"  Then  pray  have  the  goodness  to  ex- 
plain  " 

"  It  is  easily  done.  You  have  already, 
in  recounting  your  manifold  embarrass- 
ments, told  me  enough  of  these  people,  to 
let  me  see  that  they  intend  you  should 
marry  among  them  ;  and,  indeed,  you  have 
gone  quite  far  enough  to  encourage  such 
an  expectation.  Your  present  excited 
state  has  led  you  sufficiently  far  this  even- 
ing, and  I  could  not  answer  for  your  not 
proposing  in  all  form  before  the  supper 
was  over  ;  therefore,  I  had  no  other  course 
open  to  me  than  positively  to  refuse  Mrs. 
Bingham's  invitation.  But  here  we  are 
now  at  the  '  Cadran  Rouge  ; '  Ave  shall 
have  our  lobster  and  a  glass  of  Moselle, 
and  then  to  bed,  for  we  must  not  forget 
that  we  arc  to  be  at  St.  Cloud  by  seven." 

"Ah  !  that  is  a  good  thought  of  yours 
about  the  lobster,"  said  O'Leary  ;  "  and 
now,  as  you  understand  these  matters,  just 
order  supper,  and  let  us  enjoy  ourselves." 

With  all  the  accustomed  dispatch  of  a 
restaurant,  a  most  appetizing  little  supper 
made  its  speedy  appearance  ;  and  although 
now  perfectly  divested  of  the  high  excite- 
ment which  had  hitherto  possessed  me,  my 
spirits  were  excellent,  and  I  never  more 
relished  our  good  fare  and  good  fellowship. 


After  a  full  bumper  to  I  he  health  of  the 
fair  Emily  had  been  proposed  ami  drained 
by  all  three.  Trevanion  again  explained 
how  much  more  serious  difficulty  would 
result  from  any  false  step  in  ihat  quarter, 
than  from  all  ot her  Bcrapes  collectivt  lv. 

This  he  represented  ~>>  strongly, that  for 
the  first  t ime  |  began  to  perceive  the  train 
of  ill  consequences  that  must  inevitably 
result,  ami  promised  most  faithfully  to  be 
guided  by  any  counsel  he  might  feel  dis- 
posed to  give  me. 

••Ah  !  what  a  pity."  said  O'Leary,  "  it 
is  not  my  ease.  It's  very  little  trouble  it 
would  cost  any  one  to  break  off  a  match 
for  me.  I  had  always  a  mosl  peculiar  tal- 
ent for  those  things. 

"Indeed  !"said  Trevanion.  ••  J'ravmav 
we  know  your  secret  ?  for,  perhaps,  ere 
long  we  may  have  occasion  for  its  i  mploy- 
ment." 

"  Tell  it,  by  all  means,"  said  I. 

"If  I  do,"  said  O'Leary,  "  it  will  cost 
you  a  patient  hearing  ;  for  my  experiences 
are  connected  with  two  episodes  in  my 
early  life,  which,  although  not  very  amus- 
ing, are  certainly  instructive." 

"Oh!  by  all  means  let  us  hear  them." 
said  Trevanion;  "for  we  have  yet  two 
bottles  of  Ohambertin  left,  and  must  finish 
them  ere  we  part." 

"Well,  agreed."  said  O'Leary;  "only, 
once  for  all,  as  wjhat  i  am  about  to  confide 
is  strictly  confidential,  you  must  promise 
never  even  to  allude  to  it  hereafter  in  even 
the  most  remote  manner,  much  less  in- 
dulge in  any  unseemly  mirth  at  what  I 
shall  relate." 

Having  pledged  ourselves  to  secrecy  and 
a  becoming  seriousness,  O'Leary  began 
his  storv  as  follows. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

MR.    O'LEARY'S    FIRST   LOVE. 

"  It  was  during  the  vieeroyalty  of  the 
Duke  of  Richmond  that  the  incident-:  I 
am  about  to  mention  took  place.  That 
was  a  few  years  since,  and  1  was  rather 
younger,  and  a  little  more  particular  about 
my  dress  than  at  present"  Here  the  little 
man  threw  a  calm  glance  of  satisfaction 
upon  his  uncouth  habiliments,  that  nearly 
made  lis  forget  our  compact,  and  laugh 
outright.  "  Well,  in  those  wild  and  head- 
strong days  of  youthful  ardor,  I  fell  in 
lov( — desperately  in  love — and  as  always 
is,  I  believe,  the  case  with  our  early  ex- 
periments in  that  unfortunate  passion,  the 


152 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


object  of  my  affection  was  in  every  way 
unsuited  to  me.  She  was  a  tall,  dark- 
haired,  dark-eyed  maiden,  with  a  romantic 
imagination,  and  kind  of  a  half-crazed 
poetic  fervor,  that  often  made  me  fear  for 
her  intellect.  I'm  a  short,  rather  fat — 1 
was  always  given  this  way*" — here  lie  pat- 
ted a  waistcoat  that  would  fit  Daniel  Lam- 
bert— "  happy-minded  little  fellow,  that 
liked  my  supper  of  oysters  at  the  Pigeon- 
house,  and  my  other  creature  comforts, 
and  hated  everything  that  excited  or  put 
me  out  of  my  way,  just  as  I  would  have 
hated  a  blister.  Then,  the  devil  would 
have  it — for  as  certainly  as  marriages  are 
made  in  heaven,  flirtations  have  something 
to  say  to  the  other  place  that  I  should  fall 
most  irretrievably  in  love  with  Lady  Agnes 
Moreton.  Bless  my  soul,  it  absolutely 
puts  me  in  a  perspiration  this  hot  day, 
just  to  think  overall  I  went  through  on 
her  account  ;  for,  strange  to  say,  the  more 
I  appeared  to  prosper  in  her  good  graces, 
the  more  did  she  exact  on  my  part ;  the 
pursuit  Avas  like  Jacob's  ladder — if  it  did 
lead  to  heaven  it  was  certainly  an  awfully 
long  journey,  and  very  hard  on  one's  legs. 
There  was  not  an  amusement  she  could 
think  of,  no  matter  how  unsuited  to  my 
tastes  or  my  abilities,  that  she  did  not  im- 
mediately take  a  violent  fancy  to ;  and 
then  there  was  no  escaping,  and  I  was  at 
once  obliged  to  go  with  the  tide,  and 
Heaven  knows  if  it  would  not  have  carried 
me  to  my  grave  if  it  were  not  for  the 
fortunate  (I  now  called  it)  accident  that 
broke  off  the  affair  for  ever  !  One  time 
she  took  a  fancy  for  yachting,  and  all  the 
danglers  about  her — and  she  always  had  a 
cordon  of  them — young  aides-de-camp  of 
her  father  the  general,  and  idle  hussars, 
in  clanking  sabretasches  and  most  absurd 
mustachios— all  approved  of  the  taste,  and 
so  kept  filling  her  mind  with  anecdotes  of 
corsairs  and  smugglers,  that  at  last  noth- 
ing would  satisfy  her  till  I — /,  who  always 
would  rather  have  waited  for  low  water, 
and  waded  the  Liffey  in  all  its  black  mud, 
than  cross  over  in  the  ferry-boat,  for  fear 
of  sickness — /  was  obliged  to  put  an  ad- 
vertisement in  the  newspaper  for  a  plea- 
sure-boat, and,  before  three  weeks,  saw 
myself  owner  of  a  clinkcrbuilt  schooner,  of 
forty-eight  tons,  that  by  some  mockery  of 
fortune  was  called  The  Delight.  I  wish 
you  saw  me,  as  you  might  have  done  every 
morning  for  about  a  month,  as  I  stood  on 
the  Custom-house  quay,  giving  orders  for 
the  outfit  of  the  little  craft.  At  first,  as 
she  bobbed  and  pitched  with  the  flood-tide, 
I  used  to  be  a  little  giddy  and  rather  qualm- 
ish, but    at    last  1    learned    to    look   on 


without  my  head  reeling.  I  began  to 
fancy  myself  very  much  of  a  sailor,  a  de- 
lusion considerably  encouraged  by  a  huge 
blue  jacket  and  a  sou'-wester,  both  of 
which,  though  it  was  in  the  dog  days, 
Agnes  insisted  upon  my  wearing,  saying  I 
looked  more  like  Dirk  Hatteraick,  who,  I 
understood,  was  one  of  her  favorite  heroes 
in  Walter  Scott.  In  fact,  after  she  sug- 
gested this,  she  and  all  her  friends  called 
me  nothing  but  'Dirk.' 

"  Well,  at  last,  after  Heaven  knows  how 
many  excuses  on  my  part,  and  entreaties 
for  delay,  a  day  was  appointed  for  our  first 
excursion.  I  shall  never  forget  that  day 
— the  entire  night  before  it  I  did  not  close 
my  eyes  ;  the  skipper  had  told  me,  in  his 
confounded  sea-jargon,  that  if  the  wind 
was  in  one  quarter  we.  should  have  a  short 
tossing  sea  ;  and  if  in  another,  a  long  roll- 
ing swell  ;  and  if  in  a  third,  a  happy  union 
of  both — in  fact,  he  made  it  out  that  it 
could  not  possibly  blow  right,  an  opinion  I 
most  heartily  coincided  in,  and  most  de- 
voutly did  I  pray  for  a  calm,  that  would 
not  permit  of  our  stirring  from  our  moor- 
ings, and  thus  mar  our  projected  party  of 
pleasure.  My  prayer  was  unheard,  but 
my  hopes  rose  on  the  other  hand,  for  it 
blew  tremendously  during  the  entire  night, 
and  although  there  was  a  lull  towards 
morning,  the  sea,  even  in  the  river,  was 
considerable. 

st  I  had  just  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
I  was  safe  for  this  time,  when  the  mate 
poked  his  head   into  the  room  and  said, — 

"  'Mr.  Brail  wishes  to  know,  sir,  if  he'll 
bend  the  new  mainsail  to-day,  as  it's  blow- 
ing rather  fresh,  and  he  thinks  the  spars 
light.' 

"'  Why,  the  devil  take  him,  he  would 
not  have  us  go  out  in  a  hurricane  ;  surely, 
Pipes,  we  could  not  take  out  ladies  to- 
day ?' 

" '  Oh,  bless  your  heart,  yes,  sir  ;  it  blows 
a  bit  to  be  sure,  but  she's  a  good  sea-boat, 
and  we  can  run  for  Arklow  or  the  Hook, 
if  it  comes  fresher.' 

"  '  Oh,  nonsense,  there's  no  pleasure  in 
that ;  besides,  I'm  sure  they  won't  like  it 
— the  ladies  won't  venture,  you'll  see.' 

"'Ay,  sir,  but  they're  all  on  board 
a'ready  :  there's  eight  ladies  in  the  cabin, 
and  six  on  deck,  and  as  many  hampers  of 
victuals  and  as  much  crockery  as  if  we 
were  goin'  to  Madeira.  Captain  Gran- 
tham, sir,  the  soldier  officer,  with  the  big 
beard,  is  a-mixing  punch  in  the  grog-tub.' 

"  '  From  the  consequences  of  this  day 
I  proclaim  myself  innocent,'  said  I.  with  a 
solemn  voice,  as  I  drew  on  my  duck  trou- 
sers, and  prepared  to  set  out. 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


153 


'"And  the  mainsail,  sir,'  said  the  mate, 
not  understanding  what  I  said. 

"'I  care  not  which,' said  I.  doggedly; 
'act  or  part  in  this  wilful  proceeding  1*11 
not  take.5 

" 'Ay,  ay,  sir,'  said  the  stupid  wretch; 
'then  ['11  -;i\  you're  a  coming,  and  hemay 
stretch  the  large  canvas;  for  the  skipper 
says  lie  likes  a  wet  jacket  when  lie  has  gen- 
tlemen out." 

"Never  did  a  victim  put  on  a  flame-col- 
ored  garment,  the  emblem  of  fate,  and  set 
out  on  the  inarch  of  death,  with  a  heavier 
heart  than  did  I  put  on  my  jdlot-coat  that 
morning  to  join  my  friends. 

•"My  last  hope  deserted  me  as  I  saw  the 
little  vessel  lying  heside  the  quay  ;  for  1 
continued  to  trust  that  in  getting  out  from 
the  dock  some  accident  or  mischance  might 
occur  to  spoil  our  sport.  But,  no  ;  there 
she  lay,  rolling  and  pitching  in  such  a  way 
that,  even  at  anchor,  they  could  not  stand 
on  the  deck  without  holding.  Amid  the 
torrent  of  compliments  for  the  perfection 
of  all  my  arrangements,  and  innumerable 
sweet  things  on  my  taste  in  the  decoration 
and  fitting  up  of  my  cabin,  I  scarcely  felt 
myself  afloat  for  some  minutes,  and  we  got 
under  weigh  amid  a  noise  and  uproar  that 
absolutely  prevented  the  possibility  of  re- 
flection. 

"  Hitherto  our  destination  had  not  been 
mentioned,  and  as  all  the  party  appealed 
to  Lady  Agnes,  I  could  not  he  less  gallant. 
and  joined  them  in  their  request. 

"  '  Well,  then,  what  do  you  think  of 
Lambay  ? '  said  she,  looking  at  the  same 
moment  towards  the  skipper. 

"  '  We  can  make  it,  my  lady,'  said  the 
man  ;  'but  we'll  have  a  roughish  sea  of 
it,  for  there's  a-  strong  point  of  westward 
in  the  wind." 

"  '  Then  don't  think  of  it,'  said  I.  '  We 
have  come  out  for  pleasure,  not  to  make 
our  friends  sick,  or  terrify  them.  It  does 
very  well  for  us  men.' 

"  '  There  you  are,  Dirk,  with  your  inso- 
lent sneers  about  women's  nerves  and  fe- 
male cowardice.  Now,  nothing  but  Lam- 
hay will  content  me  —  what  say  you, 
ladies  ? ' 

"A  general  reply  of  approval  met  this 
speech,  and  it  was  carried  by  acclamation. 

"  'Lamhay  then  be  it,'  said  I.  with  the 
voice  of  a  man  who,  entreating  to  be  shot, 
is  informed  that  he  cannot  be  afforded 
that  pleasure,  as  his  sentence  is  to  be  hang- 
ed. But  I  must  hasten  over  these  painful 
recollections.  We  dropped  down  the  river, 
and  soon  left  the  lighthouse  and  its  long 
pier  behind  us,  the  mast  bending  like  a 
whip,  and  the  sea  boiling  like  barm  over 


the  lee  gunwale.  Still  the  Bpirit  of  our 
party  onrj  rose  the  Lighter,  and  nothing 
but  eulogies  upon  the  trim  and  .-ailing  of 
the  crafi  resounded  on  all  sides  ;  the  din 
and  buzz  of  the  conversation  wenl  on  only 

more  loudly  and  less  re.-triete.llv  than  if 
the  party  bad  been  on  shore,  and  all.  even 
myself,  seemed  happy,  for  up  fco  this  mo- 
ment I  had  not  been  sea-sick,  yet  certain 
treacherous  sensations,  thai  alternately 
evinced  themselves  in  my  stomach  and  my 
head,  warned  me  of  what  was  in  store  for 
me.  The  word  was  now  given  to  tack  :  1 
was  in  the  act  of  essaying  a  sofl  Bpeech  to 
Lady  Agnes,  when  the  confounded  cry  of 
'Ready  about,  starboard  there,  lei 
sheets  and  tack.-,  stand  by,  haul.'  'I 
vessel  plunged  head-foremosi  into  the  boil- 
ing sea,  which  hissed  on  either  bow  ;  the 
heavy  boom  swung  over,  carrying  my  hat 
along  with  it — and  almosl  my  head  too. 
The  rest  of  the  party,  possibly  better  in- 
formed than  myself,  speedily  changed  their 
places  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  boat, 
while  I  remained  holding  on,  fast,  by  the 
gunwale,  till  the  sea  rushing  over  what  was 
now  become  the  lee  side,  carried  me  head 
over  heels  into  the  shingle  ballast  in  the 
waist.  Lord,  how  they  did  laugh  !  Agnes, 
too,  who  never  before  could  get  beyond  a 
very  faint  smile,  grew  almost  hysterical  at 
my  performance.  As  for  me,  I  only  wanted 
this  to  complete  my  long-threatened  mis- 
fortune ;  sea-sickness,  in  all  its  most  miser- 
able forms,  set  in  upon  me,  and,  ere  half 
an  hour,  I  lay  upon  that  heap  of  small 
stones,  as  indifferent  to  all  around  and 
about  me  as  though  I  were  dead.  Oh,  the 
long,  dreary  hours  of  that  melancholy  day  ; 
it  seemed  like  a  year.  They  tacked  and 
tacked,  they  wore  —  beat — and  tacked 
again,  the  sea  washing  over  me,  and  the 
ruffianly  sailors  trampling  upon  me  without 
the  slightest  remorse,  whenever  they  had 
any  occasion  to  pass  back  or  forward. 
From  my  long  trance  of  suffering  I  was 
partly  roused  "by  the  steward  shaking  my 
shoulder,  saying, — 

" '  The  gentlemen  wish  to  know,  sir,  if 
you'd  like  sum'at  to  eat.  as  they're  a  goin' 
to  have  a  morsel ;  we  are  getting  into  slack 
water  now.' 

"  'Where  are  we  ?'  I  replied,  in  a  sepul- 
chral voice. 

'"Off  the  Hook,  sir  :  we  have  had  a 
most  splendid  run,  but  1  fear  we'll  scatch  it 
soon  :  there's  some  dirty  weather  to  the 
westward.' 

"'God  grant  it  !'  said  I,  piously,  and  in 
a  low  tone. 

"  '  Did  you  say  you'd  have  a  hit  to  eat, 
sir?' 


i54 


CHAR  LBS  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


"  'No  ! — eat ! — am  I  a  cannibal  ? — out- 
go away — mark  me,  my  good  fellow,  I'll 
pay  you  your  wages,  if.ever  we  get  ashore  ; 
you'll  never  set  another  foot  aboard  with 
me.' 

"  The  man  looked  perfectly  astounded 
as  he  moved  away,  and  my  thoughts  were 
soon  engrossed  by  the  proceedings  near  me. 
the  rattle  of  knives,  and  the  jingling  of 
plates  and  glasses,  went  on  very  briskly  for 
some  time,  accompanied  by  various  pleas- 
ant observations  of  my  guests,  for  such  I 
judged  them,  from  the  mirth  which  ever 
followed  them.  At  last  I  thought  I  heard 
my  name,  or  at  least  what  they  pleased  to 
use  as  its  substitute,  mentioned  ;  I  strain- 
ed my  ears  to  listen,  and  learnt  that  they 
were  pretending  to  plan  a  run  over  to 
Cowes,  and  see  the  regatta.  This  they 
discussed  then,  for  about  twenty  minutes, 
in  a  very  loud  voice,  purposely  to  see  its 
effects  upon  me ;  but,  as  I  was  now  aware 
of  the  trick,  I  gave  no  signs  of  any  intelli- 
gence. 

"  <  Poor  Dirk,'  said  Grantham  ;  '  I  believe 
by  this  time  he  cares  very  little  which  way 
her  head  lies ;  but  here  comes  something 
better  than  all  our  discussions.  Lady 
Agnes,  sit  here — Miss  Pelham,  here's  a  dry 
cushion  for  you — did  you  say  a  wing,  Lady 
Mary  ? ' 

"Now  began  the  crash  and  clatter  of 
dinner  :  champagne  corks  popping,  glasses 
ringing,  and  all  that  peculiar  admixture  of 
fracas  and  fun  which  accompanies  a  scram- 
bled meal.  How  they  did  laugh,  and  eat, 
ay,  and  drink  too.  G-.'s  punch  seemed  to 
have  its  success,  for,  sick  as  I  was,  I  could 
perceive  the  voices  of  the  men  grow  grad- 
ually louder,  and  discovered  that  two  gen- 
tlemen who  had  been  remarkably  timid  in 
the  morning,  and  scarcely  opened  their 
lips,  were  now  rather  uproariously  given, 
and  one  even  proposed  to  sing. 

"  'If  any  man,'  thought  I,  'were  to  look 
for  an  instant  at  the  little  scene  now  enact- 
ing here,  what  a  moral  would  he  reap 
from  it  ■;  talk  of  the  base  ingratitude  of  the 
world,  you  cannot  say  too  much  of  it. 
Who  would  suppose  that  it  was  my  boat 
these  people  were  assembled  in  ;  that  it 
was  9tu/  champagne  these  people  were 
drinking  :  that  my  venison  and  my  pheas- 
ants were  feeding  those  lips,  which  rarely 
spoke,  except  to  raise  a  joke  at  my  expense  ?' 
My  chagrin  increased  my  sickness,  and  my 
sickness  redoubled  my  chagrin. 

"  '  Mr.  Brail,'  said  I,  in  a  low  whisper — 
'Mr.  Brail.' 

"  '  Did  you  speak,  sir  ?  '  said  he,  with 
about  as  much  surprise  in  his  manner  as 
though  he  had  been  addressed  by  a  corpse. 


"  '  Mr.  Brail,'  said  I,  'is  there  any  dan 
ger  here  ? ' 

"  '  Lord  love  you,  no,  sir,  she's  walking 
Spanish,  and  the  sea  going  down  ;  we  shall 
have  lovely  weal  her,  and  they're  all  enjoy- 
ing it,  sir, — the  ladies.' 

"  '  So  I  perceive,'  said  I,  with  a  groan — 
'so  I  perceive;  but,  Mr.  Brail,  could  you 
do  nothing — just  to — to — startle  them  a 
little,  I  mean  for  fun  only  ?  Just  ship  a 
heavy  sea  or  two,  1  don't  care  for  a  little 
damage,  Mr.  Brail,  and  if  it  were  to  wash 
over  the  dinner  service,  and  all  the  wine,  I 
should  not  like  it  worse.' 

" '  Why,  sir,  you  are  getting  quite  funny  ; 
the  sickness  is  going.' 

"  'No,  Mr.  Brail,  worse  than  ever;  my 
head  is  in  two  pieces,  and  my  stomach  in 
the  back  of  my  mouth  ;  but  I  should  like 
you  to  do  this — so  just  manage  it,  will 
you.;  and  there's  twenty  pounds  in  my 
pocket-book,  you  can  have  it ;  there  now, 
won't  you  oblige  me  ?  And  hark  ye,  Mr, 
Brail — if  Captain  Grantham  were  to  be 
washed  over  by  mere  accident  it  cannot  be 
helped  ;  accidents  are  always  occurring  in 
boating  parties.  Go  now  ;  you  know  what 
I  mean.' 

"  '  But,  sir, — '  began  he. 

"  '  Well,  then,  Mr.  Brail,  you  won't — 
very  well :  now  all  I  have  to  say  is  this : 
that  the  moment  I  can  find  strength  to  do 
it,  I'll  stave  out  a  plank  ;  I'll  scuttle  the 
vessel,  that's  all  ;  I  have  made  up  my 
mind,  and  look  to  yourselves  now.' 

"Saying  these  words,  I  again  threw 
myself  upon  the  ballast,  and,  as  the  gay 
chorus  of  a  drinking  song  was  wafted 
across  me,  prayed  devoutly  that  we  might 
all  go  down  to  the  bottom.  The  song 
over,  I  heard  a  harsh,  gruff  voice  mixing 
with  the  more  civilized  tones  of  the  party, 
and  soon  perceived  that  Mr.  Brail  was  re- 
counting my  proposal  amid  the  most  up- 
roarious shouts  of  laughter  I  ever  listened 
to.  Then  followed  a  number  of  pleasant 
suggestions  for  my  future  management  ; 
one  proposing  to  have  me  tried  for  mutiny, 
and  sentenced  to  a  good  ducking  over  the 
side  ;  another,  that  I  should  be  tarred  on 
my  back,  to  which  latter  most  humane 
notion  the  fair  Agnes  subscribed,  averring 
that  she  was  resolved  upon  my  deserving 
my  sobriquet  of  Dirk  Hatteraick.  My 
wrath  was  now  the  master  even  of  deadly 
sickness.  I  got  upon  my  knees,  and  hav- 
ing in  vain  tried  to  reach  my  legs.  I  strug- 
gled aft.  In  this  posture  did  I  reach  the 
quarter-deck.  What  my  intention  pre- 
cisely was  in  this  excursion,  I  have  no  no- 
tion of  now,  but  I  have  some  very  vague 
idea,  that  I  meant  to  react  the  curse  of 


HARRY  LORREQl '/;/,'. 


155 


Kehama  upon  the  whole  party.     At  last  I 

mustered  strength  to  rise;  hut.  alas!  1 
had  scarcely  reached  the  standing  posil  ion. 
when  a  tremendous  heel  of  the  boat  to  our 
side  threw  me  in  the  gunwhale, and  before 
I  was  able  to  recover  my  balance,  a  second 
lurch  pitched  me  headlonginto  the  sea.  I 
have,  thank  God,  no  further  recollection 
of  my  misfortunes.  When  I  again  became 
conscious,  I  found  myself  wrapped  up  in  a 
pilot-coat,  while  my  clothes  were  drying. 
The  vessel  was  at.  anchor  in  Wexford,  my 
attached  friends  had  started  for  town  with 
post-horses,  leaving  me  no  less  cured  of 
love  than  aquatics. 

"  The  Delight  passed  over  in  a  few  days 
to  some  more  favored  son  of  Neptune,  and 
I  hid  my  shame  and  my  misfortunes  by  a 
year's  tour  on  the  Continent." 

"Although  I  acknowledge."  said  Trc- 
vanion,  "that  hitherto  1  have  reaped  no 
aid  from  Mr.  O'Leary's  narrative,  yet  I 
think  it  is  not  without  amoral." 

"Well,  hut,"  said  I,  "he  has  got  an- 
other adventure  to  tell  us  ;  we  have  quite 
time  for  it.  so  pray  pass  the  wine  and 
let  us  have  it." 

"I  have  just  finished  the  Burgundy." 
said  O'Leary,  "  and  if  you  will  ring  for 
another  flask,  I  have  no  objection  to  let 
you  hear  the  story  of  my  second  love." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

MR.  O'LEARY'S  SECOND  LOVE. 

"You  may  easily  suppose,"  began  Mr. 
O'Leary,  "  that  the  unhappy  termination 
of  my  first  passion  served  as  a  shield  to  me 
for  a  long  time  against  my  unfortunate 
tendencies  towards  the  fair  ;  and  such  was 
really  the  case.  I  never  spoke  to  a  young 
lady  for  three  years  after  without  a  reeling 
in  my  head,  so  associated  in  my  mind  was 
love  and  sea-sickness.  However,  at  last, 
what  will  not  time  do  ?  It  was  about  four 
years  from  the  date  of  this  adventure, 
when  I  became  so  oblivious  of  my  former 
failure  as  again  to  tempt  my  fortune  ! 
My  present  choice,  in  every  way  unlike 
the  last,  was  a  gay,  lively  girl,  of  great 
animal  spirits,  and  a  considerable  turn  for 
raillery,  that  spared  no  one  :  the  members 
of  her  own  family  were  not  even  sacred  in 
her  eyes  ;  and  her  father,  a  reverend  dean. 
as  frequently  figured  among  the  ludicrous 
as  his  neighbors. 

"  The  Evershams  had  been  very  old 
friends  of  a  rich  aunt  of  mine,  who  never, 
by  the  bye,  had  condescended  to  notice  me 


till  I  made  their  acquaintance  :  but  no 
300ner  hail  I  done  80,  than  .die  sent  for 
me.  and  gave  me  to  understand  that,  in 
t  In'  even!  of  my  succeeding  to  1  he  hand  of 
Fanny  Eversham,  I  should  be  her  I 
and  tin'  possessor  of  ahout  Bixty  thousand 
pounds.  She  did  not  -top  here  :  hut  by 
canvassing  the  dean  in  my  favor,  speedily 
put  t  he  mat  ter  on  a  mosi  favorable  foot- 
ing, and  in  I.  86  than  two  months  I  was 
received  as  t he  accepted  suitor  of  tic  fair 
Fanny,  then  one  of  the  reigning  belles  of 
Dublin. 

"  They  lived  at  this  time  ahout  three 
mile-  from  town,  in  a  very  pretty  country. 
where  1  used  to  pass  all  my  mornings,  and 
many  of  my  evenings  too,  in  a  state  of 
happiness  that  I  should  have  considered 
perfect,  if  it  were  not  for  two  unhappy 
blots — one,  the  taste  of  my  betrothed  Eor 
laughing  at  her  friends  ;  another,  the  dia- 
bolical propensity  to  talk  politics  of  my 
intended  father-m-law.  To  the  former  I 
could  submit;  but  with  the  latter, submis- 
sion ouly  made  bad  worse  :  for  he  inva- 
riably drew  up  as  Preceded,  drily  observing 
that  with  men  who  hud  no  avowed  opin- 
ions, it  was  ill  agreeing  :  or  that,  with 
persons  who  kept  their  politics  as  a  school 
hoy  does  his  pocket-money,  never  to  spend, 
and  always  ready  to  change,  it  was  un- 
pleasant to  dispute.  .Such  taunts  as  these 
I  submitted  to  as  well  as  I  might  ;  secretly 
resolving,  that  as  I  never  knew  the  mean- 
ing of  Whig  and  Tory,  I'd  contrive  to 
spend  my  life,  after  marriage,  out  of  the 
worthy  dean's  diocese. 

'•'Time  wore  on,  and  at  length  to  my 
most  pressing  solicitations, it  was  conceded 
that  a  day  for  our  marriage  should  be  ap- 
pointed. Not  even  the  unlucky  termina- 
tion of  this  my  second  love  affair  can  de- 
prive me  of  the  happy  souvenir  of  the  few 
weeks  which  were  to  intervene  before  our 
destined  union. 

"The  mornings  were  passed  in  ransack- 
ing all  the  shops  where  wedding  finery 
could  be  procured— laces,  blondes,  velvets, 
and  satins  littered  every  corner  of  the 
deanery — and  there  was  scarcely  a  carriage 
in  a  coachmaker's  yard  in  the  city  that  I 
had  not  sat  and  jumped  in,  to  try  the 
springs,  by  the  special  directions  of  Mrs. 
Eversham,  who  never  ceased  to  impress 
me  with  the  awful  responsibility  1  was 
about  to  take  upon  me  in  marrying  so 
great  a  prize  as  her  daughter-- a  feeling  I 
found  very  general  among  many  of  my 
friends  at  the  Kildare  Street  Club. 

••Among  the  many  indispensable  pur- 
chases which  I  was  to  make,  and  about 
which  Fanny  expressed  herself  more  than 


156 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


commonly  anxious,  was  a  saddle-horse  for 
me.  She  was  a  groat  horsewoman,  and 
hated  riding  with  only  a  servant,  and  had 
given  me  to  understand  as  much  about 
half  a  dozen  times  each  day  for  the  last 
five  weeks.  How  shall  I  acknowledge  it- 
equestrianism  was  never  my  forte.  I  had 
all  my  life  considerable  respect  for  the 
horse  as  an  animal,  pretty  much  as  I  re- 
garded a  lion  or  a  tiger  ;  but  as  to  any  in- 
tention of  mounting  upon  the  back  of  one, 
and  taking  a  ride,  I  should  as  soon  have 
dreamed  of  taking  an  airing  upon  a  gi- 
raffe ;  and  as  to  the  thought  of  buying, 
feeding,  and  maintaining  such  a  beast  at 
my  own  proper  cost,  I  should  just  as  soon 
have  determined  to  purchase  a  pillory  or  a 
ducking-stool,  by  way  of  amusing  my  lei- 
sure hours. 

"However,  Fanny  was  obstinate  — 
whether  she  suspected  anything  or  not  I 
cannot  say — but  nothing  seemed  to  turn 
her  from  her  purpose  ;  and  although  I 
pleaded  a  thousand  things  in  delay,  yet 
she  each  day  grew  more  impatient,  and  at 
last  I  saw  that  there  Was  nothing  for  it 
but  to  submit. 

"  When  I  arrived  at  this  last  and  bold 
resolve,  I  could  not  help  feeling  that  to 
possess  a  horse  and  not  be  able  to  mount 
him,  was  only  deferring' the  ridicule  ;  and 
as  I  had  so  often  expressed  the  difficulty  I 
felt  in  suiting  myself  as  a  cause  of  my  de- 
lay, I  could  not  possibly  come  forward 
with  anything  very  objectionable,  or  I 
should  be  only  the  more  laughed  at. 
There  was  then  but  one  course  to  take  ;  a 
fortnight  still  intervened  before  the  day 
which  was  to  make  me  happy,  and  I  re- 
solved to  take  lessons  in  riding  during  the 
interval,  and  by  every  endeavor  in  my 
power  become,  if  possible,  able  to  pass 
muster  on  the  saddle  before  my  bride. 

"  Poor  old  Lalouette  understood  but  lit- 
tle of  the  urgency  of  the  case  when  I  re- 
quested his  leave  to  take  my  lessons  each 
morning  at  six  o'clock,  for  I  dared  not  ab- 
sent myself  during  the  day  without  excit- 
ing suspicion  ;  and  never,  I  will  venture 
to  assert,  did  knight-errant  of  old  strive 
harder  for  the  hand  of  his  lady-love  than 
did  I  during  that  weary  fortnight.  If  a 
hippogriff  had  been  the  animal  I  bestrode, 
instead  of  being,  as  it  was,  an  old  wall-eyed 
gray,  I  could  not  have  felt  more  misgiv- 
ings at  my  temerity,  or  more  proud  of  my 
achievements.  In  the  first  three  days,  the 
unaccustomed  exercise  proved  so  severe, 
that  when  I  reached  the  deanery  I  could 
hardly  move,  and  crossed  the  floor  very 
much  as  a  pair  of  compasses  might  be 
supposed  to  do  if  performing  that  exploit. 


Nothing,  however,  could  equal  the  kind- 
ness of  my  poor  dear  mother-in-law  in  em- 
bryo, and  even  the  dean  too.  Fanny,  in- 
deed, said  nothing  ;  but  I  rather  think  she 
was  disposed  to  giggle  a  little  ;  hut  my 
rheumatism,  as  it  was  called,  was  daily 
inquired  after,  and  I  was  compelled  to  take 
some  infernal  stuff  in  my  port  wine  at 
dinner  that  nearly  made  me  sick  at  table. 

"  '  I  am  sure  you  walk  too  much.'  said 
Fanny,  with  one  of  her  knowing  looks. 
'  Papa,  don't  you  think  he  ought  to  ride  ? 
It  would  be  much  better  for  him.' 

"  '  I  do,  my  dear,'  said  the  dean.  '  But 
then,  you  see,  he  is  so  hard  to  be  pleased 
in  a  horse.  Your  old  hunting  days  have 
spoiled  you  ;  but  you  must  forget  Melton 
and  Grantham,  and  condescend  to  keep  a 
hack.' 

"  I  must  have  looked  confoundedly  fool- 
ish here,  for  Fanny  never  took  her  eyes 
off  me,  and  continued  to  laugh  in  her  own 
wicked  way. 

"It  was  now  about  the  ninth  or  tenth 
day  of  my  purgatorial  performances  ;  and 
certainly  if  there  be  any  merit  in  fleshly 
mortifications,  these  religious  exercises  of 
mine  should  stand  my  part  hereafter.  A 
review  had  been  announced  in  the  Phoenix 
Park,  which  Fanny  had  expressed  herself 
most  desirous  to  witness  ;  and  as  the  dean 
would  not  permit  her  to  go  without  a 
chaperon,  I  had  no  means  of  escape,  and 
promised  to  escort  her.  No  sooner  had  I 
made  this  rash  pledge,  than  I  hastened 
to  my  confidential  friend,  Lalouette,  and 
having  imparted  to  him  my  entire  secret, 
asked  him  in  a  solemn  and  imposing  man- 
ner, 'Can  I  do  it?'  The  old  man  shook 
his  head  dubiously,  looked  grave,  and  mut- 
tered at  length,  '  Mosch  depend  on  de 
horse.'  '  I  know  it — I  know  it — I  feel  it,' 
said  I,  eagerly  ;  then,  where  are  we  to  find 
an  animal  that  will  carry  me  peaceably 
through  this  awful  day — I  care  not  for  its 
price  ?' 

"  '  Votre  affaire  ne  sera  pas  trop  chore,' 
said  he. 

"  '  Why,  how  do  you  mean  ?'  said  I. 

"  He  then  proceeded  to  inform  me  that, 
by  a  singularly  fortunate  chance,  there 
took  place  that  day  an  auction  of  'cast 
horses,'  as  they  are  termed,  which  had 
been  used  in  the  horse  police  force  ;  and 
that,  from  long  riding,  and  training  to 
stand  fire,  nothing  could  be  more  suitable 
than  one  of  these,  being  both  easy  to  ride, 
and  not  given  to  start  at  noise. 

"  I  could  have  almost  hugged  the  old 
fellow  for  his  happy  suggestion,  and  wait- 
ed with  impatience  for  three  o'clock  to 
come,  when  we  repaired  together  to  Essex 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


15? 


Bridge,  al  thai  time  the  place  selected  for 
these  sales. 

"  I  was  at  firs!  a  Little  shocked  afc  the 
look  of  the  animals  drawn  up  ;  they  were 
mostly  miserably  thin,  most  of  them 
swelled  in  the  legs,  few  without  sore  hacks, 
are!  not  one  eye,  on  an  average,  in  every 
three;  but  still  they  were  all  high  step- 
pers, and  carried  a  great  tail.  'There's 
your  "affaire,"' said  the  old  Frenchman, 
as  a  long  legged,  fiddle-headed  beast  was 
led  out  ;  turning  oui  his  Core-legs  so  as  to 
endanger  the  man  who  walked  beside 
him. 

"  '  Yes,  there's  blood  for  you,'  said 
Charley  Dycer,  seeing  my  eye  fixed  on  the 
wretched  beast;  'equal  to  fifteen  stone 
with  any  fox-hounds  ;  safe  in  all  his  paces, 
and  warranted  sound  ;  except,'  added  he, 
in  a  whisper,  'a  slight  spavin  in  both  hind- 
legs,  ring  hone,  and  a  little  touched  in  the 
wind.'  Here  the  animal  gave  an  approv- 
ing cough.  '  Will  any  gentleman  say  fifty 
pounds  to  begin?'  But  no  gentleman 
did.  A  hackney  coachman,  however,  said 
five,  and  the  sale  was  opened  ;  the  beast 
trotting  up  and  down  nearly  over  the  bid- 
ders, at  every  moment,  and  plunging  on 
so,  that  it  was  impossible  to  know  what 
was  doing. 

"  '  Five  ten  —  fifteen  —  six  pounds  — 
thank  you,  sir, — guineas.'  'Seven 
pounds,'  said  I,  bidding  against  myself, 
not  perceiving  that  I  had  spoken  last. 
'  Thank  you,  Mr.  Moriarty,'  said  Dycer, 
turning  towards  an  invisible  purchaser 
supposed  to  be  in  the  crowd, — '  thank 
you,  sir,  you'll  not  let  a  good  one  go  in 
that  way.'  Every  one  here  turned  to  find 
out  the  very  knowing  gentleman  ;  but  he 
could  nowhere  be  seen. 

"'Dycer  resumed,  'Seven  ten  for  Mr. 
Moriarty.  Going  for  seven  ten — a  cruel 
sacrifice — there's  action  for  you — playful 
beast.'  Here  the  devil  had  stumbled,  and 
nearly  killed  a  basket-woman  with  two 
children. 

"  '  Eight,'  said  I,  with  a  loud  voice. 

"  '  Eight  pounds,  quite  absurd,'  said 
Dycer,  almost  rudely,  '  a  charger  like  that 
for  eight  pounds — going  for  eight  pounds 
— going — nothing  above  eight  pounds — no 
reserve,  gentlemen,  you  are  aware  of  that. 
They  are  all,  as  it  were,  his  Majesty's  stud 
— no  reserve  whatever — last  time — eight 
pounds — gone. ' 

"Amid  a  very  hearty  cheer  from  the 
mob — God  knows  why — but  a  Dublin  mob 
always  cheer, — 1  returned,  accompanied  by 
a  ragged  fellow,  leading  my  new  purchase 
after  me  with  a  hay  halter.  ''What  is  the 
meaning  of  those  letters  ? '  said  I,  pointing 


to  a  very  conspicuous  G.  R.,  with  sundry 
other  enigmatical  signs,  burn!  upon  the 
animal's  hind-quarter. 

"  ■  That's  to  show  he  was  a  pi 
the  fellow,  with  a  grin  ;  'and  whin  ye  ride 
with  ladies,  ye  must  turn  the  decoy  side.' 

'•The  auspicious  morning  at  fas! 
rived;  and  strange  to  -ay.  that  the  firel 
waking  thoughl  was  of  the  unlucky  day 
that  ushered  in  my  yachting  excursion 
four  year-  before.  Why  this  was  bo,  j 
cannot  pretend  to  guess  ;  there  was  hut  lit- 
tle analogy  in  the  circumstances,  at  li 
so  far  as  anything  had  then  gone.  '  How 
is  Marius?'  said  I  to  mj  Bervanl  as  he 
opened  my  shutters.  Her*  le1  me  men- 
tion that  a  friend  of  the  Kildan  Streel 
Club  had  suggested  this  name  from  the  re- 
markably (dassic  character  of  my  steed'8 
countenance  ;  his  nose,  he  assured  me.  was 
perfectly  Roman. 

"'Marius  is  doing  finely,  sir,  barring 
his  cough,  and  the  thrifle  that  ails  his 
hind-legs.' 

"  '  He'll  carry  me  quietly,  Simon,  eh  V 

"  '  Quietly.  I'll  warrant  he'll  carry  you 
quietly,  if  that's  all.' 

"  Here  was  comfort ;  for  Simon  had 
lived  forty  years  as  pantry  boy  with  my 
mother,  and  knew  a  great  deal  about 
horses.  I  dressed  myself,  therefore,  in 
high  spirits  ;  and  if  my  pilot  jacket  and 
oil-skin  cap  in  former  (lays  had  half  per- 
suaded me  that  1  was  born  for  marine 
achievements,  certainly  my  cords  and  tops, 
that  morning,  went  far  to  convince  me 
that  I  must  have  once  been  a  very  keen 
sportsman  somewhere  without  knowing  it. 
It  was  a  delightful  July  day  that  I  set  out 
to  join  my  friends,  who  having  recruited  a 
large  party,  were  to  rendezvous  at  the 
corner  of  Stephen's  Green  ;  thither  I  pro- 
ceeded in  a  certain  ambling  trot,  which  I 
have  often  observed  is  a  very  favorite  pace 
with  timid  horsemen,  and  gentlemen  of 
the  medical  profession.  I  was  hailed  with 
a  most  hearty  welcome  by  a  large  party  as 
I  turned  out  of  Grafton  Street,  among 
whom  I  perceived  several  friends  of  Miss 
Eversham,  and  some  young  dragoon  offi- 
cers, not  of  my  acquaintance,  but  who  ap- 
peared to  know  Fanny  intimately,  and 
were  laughing  heartily  with  her  as  I  rode 
up. 

"I  don't  know  if  other  men  have  expe- 
rienced what  I  am  about  to  mention  or 
not  :  but  certainly  to  me  there  is  no  more 
painful  sensation  than  to  find  yourself 
among  a  number  of  well-mounted,  well- 
equipped  people,  while  the  animal  you 
yourself  bestride  seems  only  fit  for  the  ken- 
nel.    Every  look  that  is  east  at  your  un^ 


158 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


lucky  steed — every  whispered  observation 

about  you  are  so  many  thorns  in  your  flesh, 
till  at  last  you  begin  to  feel  that  your  ap- 
pearance is  for  very  little  else  than  the 
amusement  and  mirth  of  the  assembly  ; 
and  every  time  you  rise  in  your  stirrups 
you  excite  a  laugh. 

"  'Where,  for  mercy's  sake,  did  you  find 
that  creature?'  said  Fanny,  surveying 
Marius  through  a  glass. 

"  Oh,  him,  eh  ?  Why,  he  is  a  handsome 
horse,  if  in  condition  —  a  charger,  you 
know — that's  his  style.' 

"'Indeed,'  lisped  a  young  lancer.  'I 
should  be  devilish  sorry  to  charge  or  be 
charged  with  him.'  And  here  they  all 
chuckled  at  this  puppy's  silly  joke,  and  I 
drew  up  to  repress  further  liberties. 

"  •  Is*  he  anything  of  a  fencer  ? '  said  a 
young  country  gentleman. 

"  '  To  judge  from  his  near  eye,  I  should 
say  much  more  of  a  boxer,'  said  another. 

"  Here  commenced  a  running  fire  of 
pleasantry  at  the  expense  of  my  poor  steed  ; 
which,  not  content  with  attacking  his 
physical,  extended  to  his  moral  qualities. 
An  old  gentleman  near  me  observing,  '  that 
I  ought  not  to  have  mounted  him  at  all, 
seeing  that  he  was  so  deuced  groggy  ! '  to 
which  I  replied  by  insinuating,that  if  others 
present  were  as  free  from  the  influence  of 
ardent  spirits,  society  would  not  be  a  suf- 
ferer ;  an  observation  that  I  flatter  myself 
turned  the  mirth  against  the  old  fellow, 
for  they  all  laughed  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  after. 

"  Well,  at  last  we  set  out  in  a  brisk  trot, 
and,  placed  near  Fanny,  I  speedily  forgot 
all  my  annoyances  in  the  prospect  of  figur- 
ing to  advantage  before  her.  When  we 
reached  College  Green  the  leaders  of  the 
party  suddenly  drew  up,  and  we  soon 
found  that  the  entire  street  opposite  the 
Bank  was  filled  with  a  dense  mob  of  peo- 
ple, who  appeared  to  be  swayed  hither  and 
thither,  like  some  mighty  beast,  as  the  in- 
dividuals composing  it  were  engaged  in 
close  conflict.  It  was  nothing  more  nor 
less  than  one  of  those  almost  weekly  rows, 
which  then  took  place  between  the  stu- 
dents of  the  University  and  the  townspeo- 
ple, and  which  rarely  ended  without  seri- 
ous consequences.  The  numbers  of  people 
pressing  on  to  the  scene  of  action  soon 
blocked  up  our  retreat,  and  we  found  our- 
selves most  unwilling  spectators  of  the  con- 
flict. Political  watchwords  were  loudly 
shouted  by  each  party;  and  at  last  the 
students,  who  appeared  to  be  yielding  to 
superior  numbers,  called  out  for  the  inter- 
vention of  the  police.  The  aid  was  nearer 
than  they  expected ;   for  at  the  same  in- 


Btant  a  body  of  mounted  policemen,  whose 
high  helmets  rendered  them  sufficiently 
conspicuous,  were  seen  trotting  at  a  sharp 
pace  down  Dame  Street.  On  they  came 
wilh  drawn  sabres,  led  by  a  well-looking, 
gentleman-like  personage  in  plain  clothes, 
who  dashed  at  once  into  the  midst  of  the 
fray,  issuing  his  orders,  and  pointing  out 
to  his  followers  to  secure  the  ringleaders. 
Up  to  this  moment  I  had  been  a  most  pa- 
tient, and  rather  amused  spectator,  of 
what  was  doing.  Now,  however,  my  part 
was  to  commence,  for  at  the  word  '  charge.' 
given  in  a  harsh,  dee])  voice  by  the  ser- 
geant of  the  party,  Marius,  remembering 
his  ancient  instinct,  pricked  up  his  ears, 
cocked  ids  tail,  flung  up  both  his  hind 
legs  till  they  nearly  broke  the  provost's 
windows,  and  plunged  into  the  thickest  of 
the  fray  like  a  devil  incarnate. 

"  Self-preservation  must  be  a  strong  in- 
stinct, for  I' well  remember  how  little  pain 
it  cost  me  to  see  the  people  tumbling  and 
rolling  before  and  beneath  me,  while  I  con- 
tinued to  keep  my  seat.  It  was  only  the 
moment  before  and  that  immense  mass 
were  in  man  to  man  encounter  ;  now,  all 
the  indignation  of  both  parties  seemed 
turned  upon  me  ;  brick-bats  were  loudly 
implored,  and  paving-stones  begged  to 
throw  at  my  devoted  head  ;  the  wild  hunts- 
man of  the  German  romance  never  created 
half  the  terror,  nor  one-tenth  of  the  mis- 
chief that  I  did  in  less  than  fifteen  min- 
utes, for  the  ill-starred  beast  continued 
twining  and  twisting  like  a  serpent,  plung- 
ing and  kicking  the  entire  time,  and  occa- 
sionally biting  too  ;  all  which  accomplish- 
ments I  afterwards  learned,  however  little 
in  request  in  civil  life,  are  highly  prized  in 
the  horse  police. 

"  Every  new  order  of  the  sergeant  was 
followed  in  his  own  fashion  by  Marius  ; 
who  very  soon  contrived  to  concentrate  in 
my  unhappy  person  all  the  interest  of 
about  fifteen  hundred  people. 

"  '  Secure  that  scoundrel,'  said  the  mag- 
istrate, pointing  with  his  finger  towards 
me,  as  1  rode  over  a  respectable-looking 
old  lady,  with  a  gray  muff.  'Secure  him. 
Cut  him  down.' 

"Ah,  devil's  luck  to  him,  if  he  do,'  said 
a  newsmonger  with  a  broken  shin. 

"  On  I  went,  however  ;  and  now,  as  the 
Fates  would  have  it,  instead  of  bearing 
me  out  of  further  danger,  the  confounded 
brute  dashed  onwards  to  where  the  magis- 
trate was  standing,  surrounded  by  police- 
men. I  thought  I  saw  him  change  color 
as  I  came  on.  I  suppose  my  own  looks 
were  none  of  the  pleasantest,  for  the  wor- 
thy man  evidently  liked  them  not.     Into 


HA  RR  Y  L  ORREQ  UER. 


J  59 


the  midst  of  thorn  we  plunged,  upsetting 
a  corporal,  horse  and  all,  and  appearing  aa 
if  bent  upon  reaching  the  alderman, 

"'Cut  him  down,  for  Heaven's  sake. 
Will  nobody  shoot  him?' said  he,  with  a 
voice  trembling  with  fear  and  anger; 

"At  these  words  a  wretch  lifted  up  his 
sabre,  and  madeacul  al  my  head.  Esioop- 
ed  suddenly,  and  throwing  myself  from 
the  saddle,  seized  the  poor  alderman  round 
the  neck,  and  we  both  came  rolling  to  the 
ground  together.  So  completely  was  he 
possessed  with  the  notion  that  1  meant  to  as- 
sassinate him,  that  while  I  was  endeavor- 
ing to  extricate  myself  from  his  grasp,  he 
continued  to  beg  his  life  in  the  most  heart- 
rending manner. 

"My  story  is  now  soon  told.  So  effect- 
ually did  they  rescue  the  alderman  from 
his  danger  that  they  left  mo  insensible  ; 
and  I  only  came  to  myself  some  days  after 
by  finding  myself  in  the  dock  in  Green 
Street,  charged  with  an  indictment  of 
nineteen  counts  ;  the  only  word  of  truth 
of  which  lay  in  the  preamble,  for  the 
'devil  inciting'  me  only,  would  ever  have 
made  me  the  owner  of  that  infernal  beast, 
the  cause  of  all  my  misfortunes.  I  was  so 
stupefied  with  my  beating,  that  I  know 
little  of  the  course  of  the  proceedings. 
My  friends  told  me  afterward  that  1  had  a 
narrow  escape  from  transportation  ;  but 
for  the  greatest  influence  exerted  in  my 
behalf,  I  should  certainly  have  passed  the 
autumn  in  the  agreeable  recreation  of 
pounding  oyster  shells  or  carding  wool  ; 
and  it  certainly  must  have  gone  hard  with 
me,  for,  stupefied'  as  I  was,  I  remember 
the  sensation  in  court  when  the  alderman 
made  his  appearance  with  a  patch  over  his 
eye.  The  affecting  admonition  of  the  lit- 
tle judge — who,  when  passing  sentence 
upon  me,  adverted  to  the  former  respecta- 
bility of  my  life,  and  the  rank  of  my  rela- 
tives— actually  made  the  galleries  weep. 

"Four  months  to  Newgate,  and  a  fine 
to  the  king,  then  rewarded  my  taste  for 
horse-exercise ;  and  it's  no  wonder  if  I 
prefer  going  on  foot. 

"As  to  Miss  Eversham,  the  following 
short  note  from  the  dean  concluded  my 
hopes  in  that  quarter. 

"  'Deanery,  Wednesday  morning. 

"  'Sir, — After  the  very  distressing  pub- 
licity to  which  your  late  conduct  has  ex- 
posed you — the  so  open  avowal  of  political 
opinions,  at  variance  with  those  (I  will 
say)  of  every  gentleman— and  the  recorded 
sentence  of  a  judge  on  the  verdict  of  twelve 
of  your  countrymen — 1  should  hope  that 
you  will  not  feel  my  present  admonition 


ary  to  inform  you  that  your  visit-  at 
my  house  .-hall  cease. 

••  •  The  presents  you  made  my  daughter, 
when  under  our  unforl  unate  ignorai 
your  real   charade:-,  have   been   add i 
to  your  hotel,  and  1  am  your  mo-:    obedi- 
ent, humble  servant, 

'•  •  Oliver  Eversham.' 

"Here  ended  my  second  affair  par 
amour 8 ;  and  1  freelj  confess  to  you  that 
if  I  can  only  obtain  a  wife  m  a  sea  voyage, 
or  a  steeple  chase,  1  am  likely  to  fulfil  one 

great  condition   in   modern   ad-. 
'as  having  no  incumbrance,  nor  any  objec- 
tion to  travel.' " 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE   DCEL. 

Mr.  O'Leary  had  scarcely  concluded 
the  narrative  of  his  second  adventure, 
when  the  gray  light  of  the  breaking  day 
was  seen  faintly  struggling  through  the 
half-closed  curtains,  and  apprising  us  of 
the  lateness  of  the  hour. 

"I  think  we  shall  just  have  time  for  one 
finishing  flask  of  Chambertin,"  said 
!  O'Leary,  as  he  emptied  the  bottle  into  his 
I  glass. 

"I  forbid  the  banns,  for  one,"  cried 
Trevanion.  "We  have  all  had  wine 
enough,  considering  what  we  have  before 
us  this  morning  ;  and  besid<  3,  you  are  not 
aware  it  is  now  past  four  o'clock.  So,  gar- 
con — garcon,  there! — how  soundly  the 
I  poor  fellow  sleeps — let  us  have  some  coffee, 
and  then  inquire  if  a  carriage  is  in  wait- 
ing at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Viviemae." 

The  coffee  made  its  appearance,  very 
much,  as  it  seemed,  to  Mr.  O'Leary's  cha- 
grin, who,  however,  solaced  himself  by 
sundry  "small  glasses"  to  correct  the 
coldness  of  the  wine  he  had  drunk,  and  at 
length  recovered  his  goodhumor. 

"Do  you  know,  now,"  .-aid  he,  after  a 
short  pause,  in  which  we  had  all  kept 
silence,  "I  think  what  we  are  about  to  do 
is  the  very  ugliest  way  of  finishing  a  pleas- 
ant evening.  For  my  own  part,  I  like  the 
wind-up  we  used  to  have  in  •  Old  Trinity' 
formerly  ;  when,  after  wringing  off  half  a 
dozen  knockers,  breaking  the  lamps  at  the 
post-office, and  getting  out  the  tire  engines 
of  Werburgh's  parish,  we  beat  a  few 
watchmen  and  went  peaceably  to  bed." 

"Well,  not  being  an  Irishman,"  said 
Trevanion,  "I'm  half  disposed  to  think 
that  even  our  present  purpose  is  nearly  as 
favorable  to  life  and  limb  ;  but  here  comes 


1G0 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


my  servant.  Well,  John,  is  all  arranged, 
and  the  carriage  ready  ? "' 

Having  ascertained  that  the  carriage  was 
in  waiting,  and  that  the  small  box — brass- 
hound  and  Bramah-locked — reposed  with- 
in,  wc  paid  our  bill  and  departed.  A  cold, 
raw,  misty-looking  morning,  with  masses 
of  dark,  louring  clouds  overhead,  and 
channels  of  dark  and  murky  water  beneath, 
were  the  pleasant  prospects  which  met  us 
as  wo  issued  forth  from  the  cafe.  The 
lamps,  which  hung  suspended  midway 
across  the  street — we  speak  of  some  years 
since — creaked,  with  a  low  and  plaintive 
sound,  as  they  swung  backwards  and  for- 
wards in  the  wind.  Not  a  footstep  was 
heard  in  the  street — nothing  but  the  heavy 
patter  of  the  rain  as  it  fell  ceaselessly  upon 
the  broad  pavement.  It  was,  indeed,  a 
most  depressing  and  dispiriting  accompani- 
ment to  our  intended  excursion  :  and  even 
O'Leary,  who  seemed  to  have  but  slight 
sympathy  with  external  influences,  felt  it, 
for  he  spoke  but  little,  and  was  scarcely 
ten  minutes  in  the  carriage  till  he  was 
sound  asleep.  This  was,  I  confess,  a  great 
relief  to  me  ;  for,  however  impressed  I  was, 
and  to  this  hour  am,  with  the  many  ster- 
ling qualities  of  my  poor  friend,  yet,  I  ac- 
knowledge, that  this  was  not  precisely  the 
time  I  should  have  cared  for  their  exer- 
cise, and  would  have  much  preferred  the 
companionship  of  a  different  order  of  per- 
son, even  though  less  long  acquainted  with 
him.  Trevanion  was,  of  all  others,  the 
most  suitable  for  this  purpose  ;  and  I  felt 
no  embarrassment  in  opening  my  mind 
freely  to  him  upon  subjects  which,  but 
twenty-four  hours  previous,  I  could  not 
have  imparted  to  a  brother. 

There  is  no  such  unlocker  of  the  secrets 
of  the  heart  as  the  possibly  near  approach 
of  death.  Indeed,  I  question  if  a  great 
deal  of  the  bitterness  the  thought  of  it  in- 
spires does  not  depend  upon  that  very  cir- 
cumstance. The  reflection  that  the  long- 
treasured  mystery  of  our  lives  (and  who  is 
there  without  some  such  ?)  is  about  to  be- 
come known,  and  the  secret  of  our  inmost 
heart  laid  bare,  is  in  itself  depressing. 
Not  one  kind  word,  nor  one  embracing 
adieu,  to  those  we  are  to  leave  for  ever,  can 
be  spoken  or  written,  without  calling  up  its 
own  story  of  half-forgotten  griefs,  or,  still 
worse,  at  such  a  moment,  of  happiness 
never  again  to  be  partaken  of. 

"I  cannot  explain  why,"  said  I  to 
Trevanion,  "but  although  it  has  unfort- 
unately been  pretty  of  ten  my  lot  to  have 
gone  out  on  occasions  like  this,  both  as 
principal  and  friend,  yet  never  before  did 
I  feel   so   completely   depressed  and  low- 


spirited — and  never,  in  fact,  did  so  many 
thoughts  of  regret  arise  before  me  for  much 
of  the  past,  and  sorrow  for  the  chance  of 
abandoning  the  Future " 

"I  can  understand/'  said  Trevanion. 
interrupting — "1  have  beard  of  your  pros- 
pect in  the  Callonby  family,  -d\n\  certainly, 
with  .such  hopes,  1  can  well  conceive  how 
little  one  would  be  disposed  to  brook  the 
slightest  incident  which  could  interfere 
with  their  accomplishment  ;  but,  now  that 
your  cousin  Guy's  pretentions  in  that  quar- 
ter are  at  an  end,  I  suppose,  from  all  I 
have  heard,  that  there  can  be  no  great  ob- 
stacle to  yours. 

"Guy's  pretentions  at  an  end!  For 
Heaven's  sake  tell  me  all  you  know  of  this 
affair — for  up  to  this  moment  I  am  in  ut- 
ter ignorance  of  every  thing  regarding  his 
position  in  the  Callonby  family." 

"Unfortunately,"  replied  Trevanion,  "I 
know  but  little,  but  still  that  little  is  au- 
thentic— Guy  himself  having  imparted  the 
secret  to  a  very  intimate  friend  of  mine. 
It  appears,  then,  that  your  cousin,  having 
heard  that  the  Callonbys  had  been  very 
civil  to  you  in  Ireland,  and  made  all  man- 
ner of  advances  to  you — had  done  so  under 
the  impression  that  you  with  the  other 
nephew  of  Sir  Guy,  and  consequently  the 
heir  of  a  large  fortune — that  is,  Guy  him- 
self— and  that  they  had  never  discovered 
the  mistake  during  the  time  they  resided 
in  Ireland,  when  they  not  only  permitted, 
but  even  encouraged  the  closest  intimacy 
between  you  and  Lady  Jane.  Is  so  far 
t^rue  ?  " 

"  I  have  long  suspected  it.  Indeed,  in 
no  other  way  I  can  account  for  the  recep- 
tion I  met  with  from  the  Callonbys.  But 
is  it  possible  that  Lady  Jane  could  have 
lent  herself  to  anything  so  unworthy " 

"  Pray  hear  me  out,"  said  Trevanion, 
who  was  evidently  struck  by  the  despond- 
ency of  my  voice  and  manner.  "  Guy 
having  heard  of  their  mistake,  and  augur- 
ing well  to  himself  from  this  evidence  of 
their  disposition,  no  sooner  heard  of  their 
arrival  in  Paris,  than  he  came  over  here 
and  got  introduced  to  them.  From  that 
time  he  scarcely  ever  left  their  house,  ex- 
cept to  accompany  them  into  society,  or  to 
the  theatres.  It  is  said  that  with  Lady 
Jane  he  made  no  progress.  Her  manner, 
at  the  beginning  cold  and  formal,  became 
daily  more  so  ;  until,  at  last,  he  was  half 
disposed  to  abandon  the  pursuit — in  which, 
by  the  bye,  he  has  since  confessed,  ambi- 
tious views  entered  more  than  any  affection 
for  the  lady — when  the  thought  struck 
him  to  benefit  by  what  he  supposed  at  first 
to  be   the   great  bar  to  his  success.     He 


HARE Y  LORREQ I  7.7,'. 


ini 


suddenly  pretended  to  be  only  desirous  of 
intimacy  with  Lady  Jane,  from  having 
heard  so  much  of  her  from  you — affected 
to  be  greatly  in  your  confidence — and,  in 
fact,  assumed  the  character  of  a  friend  cog 
nizant  of  all  your  feelings  and  hopes,  and 
ardently  desiring,  by  every  means  in  his 
power,  to  advance  your  interests-  — " 

f'And  was  it  thus  he  succeeded?"  I 
broke  in. 

"  "J1  was  thus  he  endeavored  to  succeed," 
said  Trevanion. 

"  Ah,  with  what  success  I  but  too  well 
know,"  said  I.  ".My  uncle  himself  show- 
ed me  a  letter  from  Guy,  in  which  be  ab- 
solutely speaks  of  the  affair  as  settled,  and 
talks  of  Lady  Jane  as  about  to  be  his 
wife." 

"  That  may  be  all  quite  true  ;  but  a  lit- 
tle considered  ion  of  Guy's  tactics  will  show 
what  he  intended  ;  for  I  find  that  he  in- 
duced your  uncle,  by  some  representations 
of  his,  to  make  the  most  handsome  pro- 
posals, with  regard  to  tiie  marriage,  to  the 
Callonbys  ;  and  that,  to  make  the  story 
short,  nothing  but  the  decided  refusal  of 
Lady  Jane, — who  at  length  saw  through 
his  entire  game, — prevented  the  match." 

"  And  then  she  did  refuse  him  ?  "  said 
I,  with  ill-repressed  exultation. 

"  Of  that  there  can  be  no  doubt  ;  for  in- 
dependently of  all  the  gossip  and  quizzing 
upon  the  subject,  to  which  Guy  was  ex- 
posed in  the  coteries,  he  made  little  secret 
of  it  himself — openly  avowing  that  he  did 
not  consider  a  repulse  a  defeat,  and 
that  he  resolved  to  sustain  the  siege  as 
vigorously  as  ever. 

However  interested  I  felt  in  all  Tre- 
vanion was  telling  me,  I  could  not  help  fall- 
ing into  a  train  of  thinking  over  my  first  ac- 
quaintance with  the  Callonbys.  There  are, 
perhaps,  but  few  things  more  humiliating 
than  the  knowledge  that  any  attention  or 
consideration  we  have  met  with  has  been 
paid  us  in  mistake  for  another  ;  and  in  the 
very  proportion  that  they  were  prized  be- 
fore, are  they  detested  when  the  truth  is 
known  to  us. 

To  all  the  depressing  influences  these 
thoughts  suggested,  came  the  healing  balm 
that  Lady  Jane  was  true  to  me — that  she, 
at  least,  however  others  might  be  biased 
by  worldly  considerations — that  she  cared 
for  me — for  myself  alone.  My  reader 
(alas  !  for  my  character  for  judgment) 
knows  upon  how  little  I  founded  the  con- 
viction ;  but  I  have  often,  in  these  Confes- 
sions, avowed  my  especial  failing  to  be  a 
great  taste  for  self-deception ;  and  here 
vas  a  capital  occasion  for  its  indulgence. 

"We  shall  have  abundant  time  to  dis- 
tcl.  i. — 11 


enssthis  later  on,"  said  Trevanion,  laying 
his  hand    upon   my  shoulder  to  rouse  nr 
wandering  attention — "for    now,    I 
ceive,    we    have  only    eight    minul 
spare." 

As  he  spoke,  a  dragoon  officer,  in  an  un- 
rode  up  to  the  window  of  i  he  car- 
riage, and  looking  steadily  at  our 
for  a  few  second-.',  asked  if  we  w  re  "  .'/  - 
sieurs  les  Anglais ;"  and,  almost  without 
waiting  for  reply,  added,  "  Y<  u  had  better 
not  go  any  farther  in  your  carriage,  foi 
the  in\t  jurn  of  the  road  will  bring  yon 
in  sight  of  the  village." 

Wo  accordingly  stopped  the  driver,  and 
having  with  some  difficulty  aroused 
O'Leary,  got  out  upon  the  road.  The 
stranger  bore  gave  his  horse  to  a  groom, 
and  proceeded  to  guide  us  through  a  corn- 
field by  a  narrow  path,  with  whose  wind- 
ings and  crossings,  he  appeared  quite  con- 
versant. We  at  length  reached  the  brow 
of  a  little  hill,  from  which  an  extended 
view  of  the  country  iay  before  as,  showing 
the  Seine  winding  its  tranquil  course  be- 
tween the  richly  tilled  fields,  dotted  with 
many  a  pretty  cottage.  Turning  abruptly 
from  this  point,  our  guide  led  us,  by  a  nar- 
row and  steep  path,  into  a  little  glen, 
planted  with  poplars  and  willow-.  A  small 
stream  ran  through  this,  and  by  the  n 
we  soon  detected  that  a  mill  was  not  far 
distant,  which  another  turning  brought  us 
at  once  in  front  of. 

And  here  I  cannot  help  dwelling  upon 
the  scene  which  met  our  view.  In  the 
porch  of  the  little  rural  mill  sat  two  gen- 
tlemen, one  of  whom  I  immediately  rec- 
ognized as  the  person  who  had  waited  up- 
on me,  and  the  other  I  rightly  conjectured 
to  be  my  adversary.  Before  them  stood  a 
small  table,  covered  with  a  spotless  nap- 
kin, upon  which  a  breakfast  equipage  was 
spread — a  most  inviting  melon  and  a  long, 
slender-necked  bottle,  reposing  in  a  little 
ice-pail,  forming  part  of  the  picture.  My 
opponent  was  coolly  enjoying  his  cigar — a 
half-finished  cup  of  coffee  lay  beside  him 
— his  friend  was  occupied  in  examining 
the  caps  of  the  duelling  pistols,  which  were 
placed  upon  a  chair.  No  sooner  had  we 
turned  the  angle  which  brought  us  in 
view,  than  they  both  rose,  and  taking  off 
their  hats  with  much  courtesy,  bade  us 
good  morning. 

••  May  I  offer  you  a  cup  of  coffee  ?  " 
said  Monsieur  de  Jonconri  to  me,  as  I 
came  up,  at  the  same  time  filling  it  out, 
and  pushing  over  a  little  flask  of  Cognac 
toward  me. 

A  look  from  Trevanion  decided  my  ac- 
ceptance of   the  proffered  civility,  and  I 


162 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


seated  myself  In  flic  chair  beside  the  baron. 
Trevanion  meanwhile  had  engaged  my  ad- 
versary in  conversation  along  with  the 
stranger,  who  had  been  our  guide,  leaving 
O'Leary  alone  unoccupied,  which,  how- 
ever, lie  did  not  long  remain  ;  for,  al- 
though uninvited  by  the  others,  he  seized 
a  knife  and  fork,  and  commenced  a  vigor- 
ous attack  upon  a  partridge  pie  near  him  ; 
and.  with  equal* absence  of  ceremony,  un- 
corked the  champagne  and  filled  out  a 
foaming  goblet,  nearly  one-third  of  the 
whole  hot  lie.  adding, — 

"I  think.  Mr.  Lorrequer,  there's  noth- 
ing like  showing  them  we  are  just  as  cool 
and  unconcerned  as  themselves." 

If  1  might  judge  from  the  looks  of  the 
party,  a  happier  mode  of  convincing  them 
of  our  "free  and  easy"  feelings  could  not 
possibly  have  been  discovered.  From  any 
mortification  this  proceeding  might  have 
caused  me,  I  was  speedily  relieved  by  Tre- 
vanion calling  O'Leary  to  one  side,  while 
he  explained  to  him  that  he  must  nomi- 
nally act  as  second  on  the  ground,  as  Tre- 
vanion, being  a  resident  in  Paris,  might 
become  liable  to  a  prosecution,  should  any- 
thing serious  arise,  while  O'Leary,  as  a 
mere  passer  through,  could  cross  the  coun- 
try into  Germany,  and  avoid  all  trouble. 

O'Leary  at  once  acceded — perhaps  the 
more  readily  because  he  expected  to  be  al- 
lowed to  return  to  his  breakfast — but  in 
this  he  soon  found  himself  mistaken,  for 
the  whole  party  now  rose,  and,  preceded 
by  the  baron,  followed  the  course  of  the 
little  stream. 

After  about  five  minutes'  walking,  we 
found  ourselves  at  the  outlet  of  the  glen, 
which  was  formed  by  a  large  stone  quarry, 
making  a  species  of  amphitheater,  with 
lofty  walls  of  rugged  granite,  rising  thirty 
or  forty  feet  on  either  side  'of  us.  •  The 
ground  was  smooth  and  level  as  a  boarded 
floor,  and  certainly  to  amateurs  in  these 
sort  of  matters,  presented  a  most  perfect 
spot  for  a  "  meeting." 

The  stranger  who  had  just  joined  us, 
could  not  help  remarking  our  looks  of  sat- 
isfaction at  the  choice  of  the  ground,  and 
observed  to  me, — 

"  This  is  not  the  first  affair  that  this 
little  spot  has  witnessed  ;  and  the  '  Mill  of 
St.  Cloud  '  is.  I  think,  the  very  best  '.meet ' 
about  Paris." 

Trevanion  who,  during  these  few  min- 
utes, had  been  engaged  with  De  Joncourt, 
now  drew  me  aside. 

"  Well,  Lorrequer,  have  you  any  recol- 
lection  now  of  having  seen  your  opponent 
before  ?  or  can  you  make  a  guess  at  the 
source  of  all  this  ?  " 


"Never  till  this  instant,"  said  1,  "have 
I  beheld  him,"  as  I  looked  toward  the  tall, 
stoutly-built  figure  of  my  adversary,  who 
was  very  leisure!}  detaching  a  cordon  from 
his  tightly  fitting  frock,  doubtless  to  pre- 
vent- its  at  tract  ing  my  aim. 

"  Well,  never  mind,  I  shall  manage 
everything  properly.  What  can  you  do 
with  the  small  sword,  for  thev  have  rapiers 
at  the  mill  ?" 

"  Nothing  whatever  ;  1  have  not  fenced 
since  I  was  a  boy." 

"No  matter  then,  we'll  fight  at  a  bar- 
ribre.  I  know  they're  not  prepared  for 
that  from  Englishmen  ;  so  just  step  on 
one  side  now,  and  leave  me  to  talk  it 
over." 

As  the  limited  nature  of  the  ground  did 
not  permit  me  to  retire  to  a  distance,  I  be- 
came involuntarily  aware  of  a  dialogue, 
which  even  the  seriousness  of  the  moment 
could  scarcely  keep  me  from  laughing  at, 
outright. 

It  was  necessary,  for  the  sake  of  avoid- 
ing any  possible  legal  difficulty  in  the  re- 
sult, that  O'Leary  should  give  his  assent 
to  every  step  of  the  arrangement ;  and 
being  almost  totally  ignorant  of  French, 
Trevanion  had  not  only  to  translate  for 
him,  but  also  to  render  in  reply  O'Leary's 
own  comments  or  objections  to  the  prop- 
ositions of  the  others. 

"  Then  it  is  agreed — we  fight  at  a  bar- 
rier?," said  Captain  de  Joncourt. 

"What's  that,  Trevanion  ?" 

"We  have  agreed  to  place  them  at  a 
barriere,"  replied  Trevanion. 

"  That's  strange,"  muttered  O'Leary  to 
himself,  who,  knowing  that  the  word 
meant  a  "  turnpike,"  never  supposed  it 
had  any  other  signification. 

"  Vingt-quatre  pas,  n'est-ce-pas  ?"  said 
De  Joncourt. 

"Too  far,"  interposed  Trevanion. 

"What  does  he  say  now?"  asked 
O'Leary. 

"  Twenty-four  paces  for  the  distance." 

"Twenty-four  of  my  teeth  he  means," 
said  O'Leary,  snapping  his  fingers. 
'•  What  does  he  think  of  the  length  of 
Sackville   Street  ?      Ask    him   that,    will 

?" 

'What      says    Monsieur?"     said    the 
Frenchman. 

"■•He  thinks  the  distance  much  too 
great." 

"He  may  be  mistaken,"  said  the  Cap- 
tain, half  sneeringly.  "  My  friend  is  de  la 
■premiere  force" 

"  That  must  be  something  impudent, 
from  your  looks,  Mr.  Trevanion.  Isn't  it 
a  thousand  pities  I  can't  speak  French  ?  " 


Je 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


L63 


"What  say  you,  then,  to  twelve  paces  ? 
Fire  together,  and  two  shots  each,  if  the 
first  fire  be  inconclusive,"  said  Trevanion. 

"Audit*  necessary,"  added  the  French- 
man, carelessly,  "conclude  with  these  "  - 
touching  the  swords  with  his  foot  as  he 
spoke. 

'•  The  choice  of  the  weapon  lies  with  us, 
I  opine,"  replied  Trevanion.  "  We  have 
already  named  pistols,  and  by  them  we 
shall  decide  I  his  matter." 

It  was  at  length,  after  innumerable  ob- 
jections; agreed  upon  that  we  should  he 
placed  back  to  back,  and,  at  a  word  given, 
each  walk  forward  to  a.  certain  distance 
marked  out  by  a  stone,  where  we  were  to 
halt,  and  at  the  signal  "Un,"  "  Deux," 
turn  round  and  fire. 

This,  which  is  essentially  a  French  in- 
vention in  dueling,  was  perfectly  new  to 
me,  but  by  no  mean-  so  to  Trevanion,  who 
was  fully  aware  of  tin1  immense  conse- 
quence of  not  giving  even  a  momentary 
opportunity  for  aim  to  my  antagonist  ; 
and  in  this  mode  of  tiring  the  most  prac- 
ticed and  deadly  shot  is  liable  to  err — par- 
ticularly if  the  signal  be  given  quickly. 

While  Trevanion  and  the  Captain  were 
measuring  out  the  ground,  a  little  circum- 
stance which  was  enacted  near  me  was 
certainly  not  over-calculated  to  strengthen 
my  nerve.  The  stranger  who  had  led  us 
to  the  ground  had  begun  to  examine  the 
pistols,  and  rinding  that  one  of  them  was 
loaded,  turned  toward  my  adversary,  say- 
ing, "De  Haulpenne,  you  have  forgotten 
to  draw  the  charge.  Come,  let  us  see 
what  vein  you  are  in."  At  the  same  time, 
drawing  off  his  large  cavalry  glove,  lie 
handed  the  pistol  to  his  friend. 

"A  double  Napoleon  you  don't  hit  the 
thumb." 

"Done,"  said  the  other,  adjusting  the 
weapon  in  his  hand. 

The  action  was  scarcely  performed, 
when  the  better  flung  the  glove  into  the 
air  with  all  his  force.  My  opponent  raised 
his  pistol,  waited  for  an  instant,  till  the 
glove,  having  attained  its  greatest  height, 
turned  to  fall  again.  Then  click  went 
the  trigger — the  glove  turned  round  and 
round  half  a  dozen  times,  and  fell  about 
twenty  yards  off.  and  the  thumb  was  found 
cut  clearly  off  at  the  juncture  with  the 
hand. 

This — which  did  not  occupy  half  as  long 
as  I  have  spent  in  recounting  it — was  cer- 
tainly a  pleasant  introduction  to  standing 
at  fifteen  yards  from  the  principal  actor ; 
and  I  should  doubtless  have  felt  it  in  all 
its  force,  had  not  my  attention  been  drawn 
off  by  the  ludicrous  expression  of  grief  in 


O'Leary's  countenance,  who  evidently  re- 
garded me  as  already  defunct. 

"Now,  Lorrequer,  we  are  ready,"  said 
Trevanion,    coming   forward;    ami    then. 

lowering  his  voice,  added.  -  -  All  is  in  your 
favor;  I  have  won  the  'word,'  which  I 
shall  give  the  momenl  you  halt.  So  turn 
and  fire  al  once  :  be  ,-un-  not  to  go  too  far 
round  in  tin-  turn — that  is  the  invariable 
error  in  this  mode  of  firing:  only,,  no 
hurry  ! — be  calm." 

"  Now.  messieurs,"  said  De  Joi  court,  ae 
he  approached  with  his  friend  leaning 
upon  his  arm,  and  placed  him  in  the  spot 
allotted  to  him.  Trevanion  then  took  n.\ 
arm,  ami  placed  me  hack  to  hack  to  my 
antagonist.  As  I  took  up  my  ground, 
it  so  chanced  that  my  adversary^  spur 
slightly  grazed  me,  upon  which  he  im- 
mediately turned  round,  and  with  the 
most  engaging  .-mile,  begged  a  "thousand 
pardons,"  and  hoped  I  was  not  hurt. 

O'Leary,  who  saw  the  incident,  and 
guessed  the  action  aright,  called  out. — 

"Oh,  the  cold-blooded  villain  !  the  devil 
a  chance  for  you,  Mr.  Lorrequer." 

"  Messieurs,  your  pistols,"  said  De  Jon- 
court,  who,  as  he  handed  the  weapons. 
and  repeated  once  more  the  conditions  of 
the  combat,  gave  the  word  to  march. 

I  now  walked  slowly  forward  to  the  place 
marked  out  by  the  stone  ;  but  it  seemed 
that  I  must  have  been  in  advance  of  my 
opponent,  for  I  remember  some  seconds 
elapsed  before  Trevanioi  coughed  slightly, 
and  then  with  a  clear,  full  voice  called  out. 
"  Un,"  "Deux J"  I  had  scarcely  turned 
myself  half  round,  when  my  right  arm, was 
suddenly  lifted  up,  as  if  by  a  galvanic 
shock.  My  pistol  jerked  upwards,  and  ex- 
ploded the  same  moment,  and  then  drop- 
ped powerlessly  from  my  hand,  which  I 
now  felt  was  covered  with'  warm  blood 
from  a  wound  near  the  elbow.  From  the 
acute  but  momentary  pang  this  gave  me. 
my  attention  was  soon  called  off  ;  for 
scarcely  "had  my  arm  been  struck,  when  a 
loud  clattering  noise  to  the  left  induced 
me  to  turn,  and  then,  to  my  astonishment, 
I  saw  my  friend  O'Leary  about  twelve  feet 
from  the  ground,  hanging  on  by  some  ash 
twigs  that  grew  from  the  clefts  of  the 
granite.  Fragments  of  broken  rod;  were 
falling  around  him,  and  his  own  position 
momentarily  threatened  a  downfall.  He 
was  screaming  with  all  his  might  :  hut 
what  he  said  was  entirely  lost  in  theshouts 
of  laughter  of  Trevanion  and  the  French- 
men, who  could  scarcely  stand  with  the. 
immoderate  exuberance  of  their  mirth. 

I  had  no  time  to  run  to  his  aid — which, 
although  wounded,  I  should  have  done— 


1G4 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


when  the  branch  he  clung  to.  slowly  yield- 
ed with  his  weight,  and  the  round,  plump 
figure  of  my  poor  friend  rolled  over  the 
little  cleft  of  rock,  and,  after  a  few  faint 
struggles,  came  tumbling  heavily  down, 
and  at  last  lay  peaceably  in  the  deep  hea- 
ther at  the  bottom — his  cries  the  whole 
time  being  loud  enough  to  rise  even  above 
the  vociferous  laughter  of  the  others. 

I"  now  ran  forward,  as  did  Trevanion, 
when  O'Leary,  turning  his  eyes  toward 
me,  said,  in  the  most  piteous  manner, — 

"Mr.  Lorrequer,  I  .forgive  you — here  is 
my  hand — bad  luck  to  their  French  way 
of  fighting,  that's  all — it's  only  good  for 
killing  one's  friend.  I  thought  I  was  safe 
up  there,  come  what  might." 

"  My  dear  O'Leary,"  said  I,  in  an  agony, 
which  prevented  my  minding  the  laughing 
faces  around  me,  "f  surely  you  don't  mean 
to  say  that  I  have  wounded  you  ?  " 

"  No,  dear,  not  wounded,  only  killed 
me  outright — -through  the  brain  it  must 
be,  from  the  torture  I'm  suffering." 

The  shout  with  which  this  speech  was 
received,  sufficiently  aroused  me  ;  while 
Trevanion,  with  a  voice  nearly  choked 
with  laughter,  said, — 

"Why,  Lorrequer,  did  yon  not  see  that 
your  pistol,  on  being  struck,  threw  your 
ball  high  up  on  the  quarry  ;  fortunately, 
however,  about  a  foot  and  a  half  above 
Mr.  O'Leary's  head,  whose  most  serious 
wounds  are  his  scratched  hands  and  bruis- 
ed bones  from  his  tumble." 

This  explanation,  which  was  perfectly 
satisfactory  to  me,  was  by  no  means  so  con- 
soling to  poor  O'Leary,  who.  lay  quite  un- 
conscious to  all  around,  moaning  in  the 
most  melancholy  manner.  Some  of  the 
blood,  which  continued  to  flow  fast  from 
my  wound,  having  dropped  upon  his  face, 
roused  him  a  little — but  only  to  increase 
his  lamentation  for  his  own  destiny,  which 
he  believed  was  fast  accomplishing. 

"  Through  the  skull — clean  through  the 
skull — and  preserving  my  senses  to  the 
last  !  Mr.  Lorrequer,  stoop  down — it  is  a 
dying  man  asks  you — don't  refuse  me  a 
last  request.  There's  neither  luck  nor 
grace,  honor  nor  glory  in  such  a  way  of 
fighting — so  just  promise  me  you'll  shoot 
that  grinning  baboon  there,  when  he's  go- 
ing off  the  ground,  since  it's  the  fashion  to 
fire  at  a  man  with  his  back  to  you.  Bring 
him  down  and  I'll  die  easy." 

And  with  these  words  he  closed  his  eyes, 
and  straightened  out  his  legs — stretched 
his  arms  on  cither  side,  and  arranged  him- 
self as  much  corpse  fashion  as  the  circum- 
stances of  the  ground  would  permit — while 
I  now  freely  participated  in  the  mirth  of 


the  others,  which,  loud  and  boisterous  as 
it  was,  never  reached  the  ears  of  O'Leary. 

My  arm  had  now  become  so  painful,  that 
I  was  obliged  to  ask  Trevanion  to  assist 
me  in  getting  off  my  coat.  The  surprise 
of  the  Frenchmen  on  learning  that  I  was 
wounded  was  very  considerable — O'Leary's 
catastrophe  having  exclusively  engaged  all 
attention.  My  arm  was  now  examined, 
when  it  was  discovered  that  the  ball  had 
passed  through  from  one  side  to  the  other, 
without  apparently  touching  the  bone* 
the  bullet  and  the  portion  of  my  coat  car- 
ried in  by  it  both  lay  in  my  sleeve.  The 
only  serious  consequence  to  be  apprehend- 
ed was  the  wound  of  the  blood-vessel, 
which  continued  to  pour  for  thblood  un- 
ceasingly, and  I  was  just  surgeon  enough 
to  guess  that  an  artery  had  been  cut. 

Trevanion  bound  his  handkerchief 
tightly  across  the  wound  and  assisted  me 
to  the  high  road,  which,  so  sudden  was 
the  loss  of  blood,  I  reached  with  difficulty. 
During  all  these  proceedings,  nothing 
could  be  possibly  more  kind  and  consider- 
ate than  the  conduct  of  our  opponents. 
All  the  bold  and  swaggering  air  which 
they  had  deemed  the  essentiel  before,  at 
once  fled,  and  in  its  place  we  found  the 
most  gentlemanlike  attention  and  true 
politeness. 

As  soon  as  I  was  enabled  to  speak  upon 
the  matter,  I  begged  Trevanion  to  look 
to  poor  O'Leary,  who  still  lay  upon  the 
ground  in  a  state  of  perfect  unconscious- 
ness. Captain  de  Joncourt,  on  hearing 
my  wish,  at  once  returned  to  the  quarry, 
and,  with  the  greatest  difficulty,  persuaded 
my  friend  to  rise  and  endeavor  to  walk, 
which  at  last  he  did  attempt,  calling  him 
to  bear  witness  that  it  perhaps  was  the 
only  case  on  record  where  a  man  with  a 
bullet  in  his  brain  had  made  such  an  exer- 
tion. 

With  a  view  to  my  comfort  and  quiet, 
they  got  him  into  d'Haultpenne's  cab; 
and  having  undertaken  to  send  Dupuytren 
to  me  immediately  on  my  reaching  Paris, 
took  their  leave,  and  Trevanion  and  I  set 
out  homeward. 

Not  all  my  exhaustion  and  debility — nor 
even  the  acute  pain  I  was'  suffering,  could 
prevent  my  laughing  at  O'Leary's  adven- 
ture ;  and  it  required  all  Trevanion's  pru- 
dence to  prevent  my  indulging  too  far  in 
my  recollection  of  it. 

When  we  reached  Meurice's,  I  found 
Dupuytren  in  waiting,  who  immediately 
pronounced  the  main  artery  of  the  limb  as 
wounded  ;  and  almost  as  instantaneously 
proceeded  to  pass  a  ligature  round  it.  This 
painful  business  being  concluded,   I  was 


II MIRY  LORREQUER. 


1G5 


placed  upon  a  sofa,  and  being  plentifully 
supplied  with  lemonade,  and  enjoined  to 
keep  quiet,  left  to  my  own  meditations, 
such  as  they  were,  till  evening  Trevanion 
having  taken  upon  him  to  apologize  for 
our  absence  at  Mrs.  Bingham's  dejedner, 
and  O'Leary  being  fast  asleep  in  his  own 
apartment. 


OHAPTEE  XXXVI. 

EARLY  RECOLLECTIONS — A  FIRST   LOVE. 

I  know  of  no  sensations  so  very  nearly 
alike,  as  those  felt  on  awaking  after  very 
sudden  and  profuse  loss  of  blood,  and 
those  resulting  from  a  large  dose  of  opium. 
The  dizziness,  the  con  fusion,  and  the  ab- 
straction at  first,  gradually . yielding,  as 
the  senses  become  clearer,  to  a  vague  and 
indistinct  consciousness  ;  then,  the  strange 
mistiness,  in  which  fact  and  fiction  are 
wrapped  up — the  confounding  of  persons, 
and  places,  and  times,  not  so  as  to  embar- 
rass and  annoy — for  the  very  debility  you 
feel  subdues  all  irritation — but  rather  to 
present  a  panoramic  picture  of  odd  and 
incongruous  events  more  pleasing  than 
otherwise. 

Of  the  circumstances  by  which  I  was 
thus  brought  to  a  sick  couch,  I  had  not 
even  the  most  vague  recollection — the 
faces  and  the  dress  of  all  those  I  had  lately 
seen  were  vividly  before  me  ;  but  how,  and 
for  what  purpose  I  knew  not.  Something 
in  their  kindness  and  attention  had  left  an 
agreeable  impression  upon  my  mind,  and 
without  being  able,  or  even  attempting 
to  trace  it,  I  felt  happy  in  the  thought. 
While  thus  the  "hour  before"  was  dim 
and  indistinct,  the  events  of  years  past 
were  vividly  and  brightly  pictured  before 
me  ;  and  strange  too,  the  more  remote  the 
period,  the  more  did  it  seem  palpable  and 
present  to  my  imagination.  For  so  it  is, 
there  is  in  memory  a  species  of  mental 
long-sightedness,  which,  though  blind  to 
the  object  close  beside  you,  can  reach  the 
blue  mountains  and  the  starry  skies,  which 
lie  full  many  a  league  away.  Is  this  a 
malady  ?  or  is  it  rather  a  providential  gift 
to  alleviate  the  tedious  hours  of  the  sick- 
bed, and  cheer  the  lonely  sufferer,  whose  j 
thoughts  are  his  only  realm  ? 

My  school-boy  days,  in  all  their  holiday 
excitement  ,  the  bank  where  I  had  culled 
the  earliest  cowslips  of  the  year  ;  the  clear 
but  rapid  stream,  where  days  long  I  have 
watched  the  speckled  trout,  as  they  swam 
peacefully  beneath,  or  shook  their  bright 
fins  in  the  gay   sunshine ;    the   gorgeous 


dragon-fly  thai    played    above   the  water, 
and  dipped  his  bright  wings  in  its  ripple— 

t  hey  wvic  all  before  me.  And  t  hen  came 
t  he  i  houghl  of  school  il  self,  «  ith  n  9  little 
world  of  boyish  cares  and  emulations  ;  the 
early  imbibed  passion  for  su< 
dent  longing  for  superiority  ;  the  high  and 
swelling  feelingof  the  heart, as  home  drew 
near,  to  think  that  I  had  gained  the 
wished-for  prize — the  object  of  many  an 
hour's  toil— the  though  I  of  many  a  long 
night's  dream;  my  father's  smile;  my 
mother's  kiss  !  Oh  !  what  a  \cry  world  of 
tender  memory  that  one  thoughl 
for  what  are  all  our  later  successi 
— how  bright  soever  our  fortune  be-r-com- 
pared  with  the  early  triumphs  of  our  in- 
fancy ?  Where,  among  the  jealous  rivalry 
of  some,  the  cold  and  half-wrung  praise  of 
others,  the  selfish  and  unsympathizh 
gard  of  all,  shall  we  find  anything  to  repay 
us  for  the  swelling  ecstasy  of  our  young 
hearts,  as  those  who  have  cradled  and  loved 
us  grow  proud  in  our  successes  ?  For  my- 
self, a  life  that  has  failed  in  every  pr 
of  those  that  prophesied  favorably,  years 
that  have  followed  on  each  other  only  to 
blight  the  promise  that  kind  and  well-wish- 
ing friends  foretold,  leave  but  little  to 
dwell  upon,  that  can  be  reckoned  as  suc- 
cess. And  yet,  some  moments  I  have  hail, 
which  half  seemed  to  realize  my  early dr  am 
of  ambition,  and  rouse  my  spirit  \ 
me  ;  but  wdiat  were  they  all  compared  to 
my  boyish  glories  ?  what  the  passi] 
citement  one's  own  heart  inspires  in  its 
lonely  and  selfish  solitude,  when  compared 
with  that  little  world  of  sympathy  ami 
love  our  early  home  teemed  with, as, proud 
in  some  trifling  distinction,  we  fell  into  a 
mother's  arms,  and  heard  our  father's 
"God  bless  you,  boy?"  No,  no;  the 
world  has  no  requital  for  this.  It  is  like 
the  bright  day-spring,  which,  as  its  glories 
gild  the  east,  display  before  us  a  whole 
world  of  beauty  ami  promise — blighted 
hopes  have  not  withered,  false  friendships 
have  not  scathed,  cold,  selfish  interest  has 
not  yet  hardened  our  hearts,  or  dried  up 
our  affections,  and  we  are  indeed  happy; 
but  equally  like  the  burst  oi  morning  is  it 
fleeting  and  short-lived  :  and  equally  so, 
too,  does  it  pass  away,  never,  never 
turn. 

From  thoughts  like  these  my  mind  wan- 
dered on  to  more  advanced  years,  when, 
emerging  from  very  boyhood,  I  half  be- 
lieved myself  a  man,  and  was  fully  con- 
vinced I  was  in  love. 

Perhaps,  after  all,  for  the  time  it  li 
— ten  days,  I  think — it  was  the  most  sin- 
cere passion  I  ever  felt.     I  had  been  spend- 


166 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


ing  some  weeks  at  a  small  watering-place 
m  Wales  with  some  relatives  of  my  mother- 
There  were,  as  might  be  supposed,  but 
few  "distractions"  in  such  a  place,  save 

the  scenery,  and  an  occasional  day's  fishing 
in  the  little  river  of  Dolgelly,  which  ran 
near.  In  all  these  little  rambles  which  the 
younger  portion  of  the  family  made  to- 
gether, frequent  mention  was  ever  being 
made  of  a  visit  from  a  very  dear  cousin, 
and  to  which  all  looked  forward  with  the 
greatest  eagerness — the  elder  ones  of  the 
party  with  a  certain  air  of  quiet  pleasure, 
as  though  they  knew  more  than  they  said, 
and  the  younger  with  all  the  childish  ex- 
uberance of  youthful  delight.  Clara 
Mourtray  seemed  to  be,  from  all  I  was 
hourly  hearing,  the  very  paragon  and  pat- 
tern of  everything.  If  any  one  was  prais- 
ed for  beauty,  Clara  was  immediately  pro- 
nounced much  prettier — did  any  one  sing, 
Clara's  voice  and  taste  were  far  superior. 
In  our  homeward  walk,  should  the  shad- 
ows of  the  dark  hills  fall  with  a  pictur- 
esque effect  upon  the  blue  lake,  some  one 
was  sure  to.  say,  "  Oh  !  how  Clara  would 
like  to  sketch  that."  In  short  there  was 
no  charm  nor  accomplishment  ever  the  gift 
of  woman,  that  Clara  did  not  possess  ;  or, 
what  amounted  pretty  much  to  the  same 
thing,  that  my  relatives  did  not  implicitly 
give  her  credit  for.  The  constantly  recur- 
ring praises  of  the  same  person  affect  us  al- 
ways differently  as  we  go  on  in  life.  In 
youth  the  prevailing  sentiment  is  an  ardent 
desire  to  see  the  prodigy  of  whom  we  have 
heard  so  much — in  after  years,  heartily  to 
detest  what  hourly  hurts  our  self-love  by 
comparisons.  We  would  take  any  steps  to 
avoid  meeting  what  we  have  inwardly  de- 
creed to  be  a  "  bore."  The  former  was  my 
course  ;  and  though  my  curiosity  was  cer- 
tainly very  great,  I  had  made  up  my  mind 
to  as  great  a  disappointment,  and  half 
wished  for  the  long  arrival  as  a  means  of 
criticizing  what  they  could  see  no  fault 
in. 

The  wished-for  evening  at  length  came, 
and  we  all  set  out  upon  a  walk  to  meet  the 
carriage  which  was  to  bring  the  long  wish- 
ed-for Clara  among  us.  We  had  not  walk- 
ed above  a  mile  when  the  eager  eye  of  the 
foremost  detected  a  cloud  of  dust  upon  the 
road  at  some  distance  ;  and,  after  a  few 
minutes  more,  four  posters  were  seen  com- 
ing along  at  a  tremendous  rate.  The  next 
moment  she  was  making  the  tour  of  about  a 
dozen  uncles,  aunts,  cousins,  and  cousines, 
none  of  whom,  it  appeared  to  me,  felt  any 
peculiar  desire  to  surrender  the  hearty  em- 
brace to  the  next  of  kin  in  succession.  At 
last  she  came  to  me,  when,  perhaps,  in  the 


confusion  of  the  moment,  not  exactly  re- 
membering  whether ornot  she  had  seenme 
before,  she  stood  for  a  moment  silent — a 
deep  blush  mantling  her  lovely  cheek — 
masses  of  waving  brown  hair  disordered 
and  floating  upon  her  shoulders — her  large 
and  liquid  blue  eyes  beaming  upon  me. 
One  look  was  enough.  I  was  deeply — ir- 
retrievably in  love. 

"  Our  cousin  Harry — Harry  Lorrequer 
— wild  Harry,  as  we  used  to  call  him, 
Clara,"  said  one  of  the  girls  introducing 
me. 

She  held  out  her  hand,  and  said  some- 
thing with  a  smile.  What,  I  know  not — 
nor  can  I  tell  how  I  replied;  but  something 
absurd  it  must  have  been,  for  they  all 
laughed  heartily,  and  the  worthy  •  papa 
himself  tapped  my  shoulder  jestingly,  add- 
ing,— 

"Nevermind,  Harry — you  will  do  bet- 
ter one  day,  or  I  am  much  mistaken  in 
you." 

\\  hether  I  was  conscious  that  I  had  be- 
haved foolishly  or  not,  I  cannot  well  say  ; 
but  the  whole  of  that  night  I  thought  over 
plans  innumerable  how  I  should  succeed 
in  putting  myself  forward  before  "Cousin 
Clara,"  and  vindicating  myself  against  any 
imputation  of  schoolboy  mannerism  that 
my  first  appearance  might  have  caused. 

The  next  day  we  remained  at  home. 
Clara  was  too  much  fatigued  to  walk  out, 
and  none  of  us  would  leave  her.  What  a 
day  of  happiness  that  was  I  I  knew  some- 
thing of  music,  and  could  sing  a  second. 
Clara  was  delighted  at  this,  for  the  others 
had  not  cultivated  singing  much.  We 
therefore  spent  part  of  the  morning  in  this 
way.  Then,  she  produced  her  sketch- 
book, and  I  brought  out  mine,  and  we  had 
a  mutual  interchange  of  prisoners.  What 
cutting  out  of  leaves  and  detaching  of  rice- 
paper  landscapes  !  Then,  she  came  out 
upon  the  lawn  to  see  my  pony  leap,  and 
promised  to  ride  him  the  following  day. 
She  patted  the  greyhounds,  and  said  Gipsy, 
which  was  mine,  was  the  prettiest.  In  a 
word,  before  night  fell  Clara  had  won  my 
heart  in  its  every  fiber,  and  I  went  to  my 
room  the  very  happiest  of  mortals. 

I  need  not  chronicle  my  next  three  days 
— to  me  the  most  glorious  trois  jours  of 
my  life.  Clara  had  evidently  singled  me 
out  and  preferred  me  to  all  the  rest.  It 
was  beside  me  she  rode — upon  my  arm  she 
leaned  in  walking — and,  to  fill  me  with  de- 
light unutterable,  I  overheard  her  say  to 
my  uncle,  "  Oh  !  I  doat  upon  dear  Harry  ! 
And  it  is  so  pleasant,  for  I'm  sure  Mor- 
timer will  he  so  jealous." 

"  And  who  is  Mortimer?"  thought  I; 


HARRY  LORREQVM. 


1C7 


"he  is  a  new  character  in  the  piece,  of 
whom  we  have  seen  nol  hing." 

I  was  not  long  in  doubt  upon  this  head, 
for  that  very  day,  at  dinner,  the  identical 
Mortimer  presented  himself.  He  was  a 
fine,  dashing-looking,  soldier-like  fellow, 
of  about  thirty-five,  with  a  heavy  mous- 
tache, and  a  bronzed  cheek  rather  grave 
in  his  manner,  but  still  perfectly  good- 
natured,  and  when  he  smiled  showing  a 
mosl  hand  3el  of  regular  teeth.    C'htra 

seemed  less  pleased  (I  thought)  at  his 
coming  than  the  others,  and  took  pleasure 
in  tormenting  him  by  a  thousand  pettish 
and  frivolous  ways,  which  I  was  sorry  for, 
as  I  thought  he  did  uot  like  it  ;  and  used 
to  look  half  chidingly  at  her  from  time  to 
time,  but  without  any  effect,  for  she  just 
went  on  as  before,  and  generally  ended  by 
taking  my  arm  and  saying,  "  Gome  away, 
Harry  ;  you  always  are  kind,  and  never 
look  sulky.  I  can  agree  withy ou."  These 
were  delightful  words  for  me  to  lis'ten  to, 
but  I  could  not  hear  them  without  feeling 
for  him,  who  evidently  was  pained  by 
Clara's  avowed  preference  for  me  ;  and 
whose  years — for  1  thought  thirty-five  at 
that  time  a  little  verging  'upon  the  pa- 
triarchal— entitled  him  to  more  respect. 

"Well,"  thought  I,  one  evening,  as  this 
game  had  been  carried  rather  farther  than 
usual,  "  I  hope  she  is  content  now.  for  cer- 
tainly Mortimer  is  jealous  ;"  and  the  result 
proved  it,  for  the  whole  of  the  following 
day  he  absented  himself,  and  never  came 
back  till  late  in  the  evening.  He  had 
been,  I  found,  from  a  chance  observation 
1  overheard,  at  the  bishop's  palace,  and 
the  bishop  himself,  I  learned,  was  to  break- 
fast with  ns  in  the  morning. 

"Harry,  1  have  a  commission  for  you," 
said  Clara.  "  You  must  get  up  very  early 
to-morrow,  and  climb  the  Cader  mountain. 
and  bring  me  a  grand  bouquet  of  the  blue 
and  purple  heath  that  I  liked  so  much  the 
last  time  I  was  there.  Mind  very  early, 
for  I  intend  to  surprise  the  bishop  to-mor- 
row with  my  taste  in  a  nosegay." 

The  sun  had  scarcely  risen  as  I  sprang 
from  my  bed,  and  started  upon  my  errand. 
Oh  !  the  glorious  beauty  of  that  morning's 
walk.  As  I  climbed  the  mountain,  the 
deep  mists  lay  upon  all  around,  and  except 
the  path  I  was  treading,  nothing  was  vis- 
ible ;  but  before  I  reached  the  top,  the 
heavy  masses  of  vapor  were  yielding  to  the 
influence  of  the  sun  ;  and  as  they  rolled 
from  the  valleys*  up  the  mountain  sides. 
were  every  instant  opening  new  glens  and 
ravines  beneath  me — bright  in  all  their  ver- 
dure, and  speckled  with  sheep,  whose  t  ink- 
ling bells  reached  me  even  where  I  stood. 


mted  above  twenty  lake-  .it  dif| 
levels,    below   me  ;    -one-,    brilliant,    and 
shining  like  polished  mirroi  -.  no! 

less  beaut  i I' 1 1 1 ,  dark  and  Solemn 
mighty    mountain    shadow.      As    I    locked 
landward,  the  mountains  reared  their  huge 
crests,  one  above  t  he  ol  In  r,  to  the  fa] 

an\     eye    eoiild     reach.       Toward    the    oppo- 
site side,  t he  calm  and  t ranquil  sea  I 
tieal  h  me,  bal  bed  in  t  he  yellow  gold  of  a 
rising   sun  ;  a  few   ship-    were   peaceably 
lying  at  anchor  in  the  bay  ;  and  the  only 
thing  in  motion  was  a  row-boat,  the  heavy 
monotonous  b1  roke  of   w  hose  oars  i 
the    stillness  of  the  morning  air.     Not  a 
single  habitat  ion   of  man  could    I  d 
nor  any  vestige  of  a  human  being,  except 
that   mass    of   something   upon  a 
down    beneath    were   one.  and    I    think  it 
must  have  been,  for  I  saw  a  sheep-doj 
returning   again  and   again    to   the   same 
spot. 

My  bouquet  was  gathered  ;  the  g 
of  tile  Alps,  which  is  found  here, 
tributing  its  evidence  to  show  where  1  had 
been  to  seek  it,  and  1  turned  home. 

The  family  were  at  breakfast  as  I  enter- 
ed ;  at  least  so  the  servants  said,  for  1  only 
remembered  then  that  the  bishop  was  our 
guest,  and  that  I  could  not  present  n 
without  some  slight  attention  to  m} 
I  hastened  to  my  room,  and  scarcely  had  I 
finished,  when  one  of  my  cousins,  a  little 
girl  of  eight  years,  came  to  the  door  and 
said, — 

"  Harry,  come  down,  Clara  wants  you." 

I   rushed  downstairs,  and   as  I  entered 
the  breakfast-parlor,  stood  still  with  sur- 
prise.      The    ladies    were    all    d res- 
white,  and   even  my  little  cousin  -wore  a 
gala  costume  that  almost  amazed  me. 

"  My  bouquet,  Harry  ;  1  hope  you  have 
not  forgotten  it,"  said  Clara  as  1  ap- 
proached. 

I  presented  it  at  once,  when  she  gaily 
and  coquettishly  held  out  her  hand  for  me 
to  kiss.  This  1  did,  my  blood  rushing  to 
my  face  and  temples  the  while,  and  almost 
depriving  me  of  consciousness. 

"  Well,  Clara,  1  am  surprised  at  you." 
said  Mortimer.  "How  can  you  treat  the 
poor  boy  so  ?  " 

I  grew  deadly  pale  at  these  words,  and 
turning  round,  looked  at  the  speaker  full 
in  the  face.  ••  Poor  fellow,"  thought  I, 
••  he  is  jealous,  and  1  am  really  grieved  for 
him:"  and  turned  again  to  Clara. 

"  Here  it  is— oh  :  how  handsome  p 
said  one  of  the  younger  children,  running 
eagerly  to  the  window,  as  a  very  pretty 
open   carriage   with   four   horses   drew  up 
before  the  house. 


163 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


"The  bishop  has  taste,"  I  murmured  to 
myself,  scarcely  deigning  to  give  a  second 
look  at  the  equipage. 

Clara  now  left  the  room,  but  speedily 
returned — her  dress  changed,  and  shawled 
as  if  for  a  walk.  What  could  all  this 
mean  ? — and  the  whispering,  too,  what  is 
ail  that  ? — and  why  are  they  all  so  sad  ? — 
Clara  has  been  weeping. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  child — good  bye/' 
said  my  aunt,  as  she  folded  her  in  her 
arms  for  the  thii"1  time. 

"  Good  bye,  good  bye,"  I  heard  on  every 
side.  At  length,  approaching  me,  Clara 
took  my  hand  and  said, — 

"  My  poor  Harry,  so  we  are  going  to 
part.     I  am  going  to  Italy." 

'•To  Italy,  Clara?  Oh.,  no — say  no. 
Italy  !  I  shall  never  see  you  again." 

"  Won't  you  wear  this  ring  for  me,  Har- 
ry ?  It  is  an  old  favorite  of  yours — and 
when  wre  meet  again " 

"  Oh  !  dearest  Clara,"  I  said,  "  do  not 
speak  thus." 

"Good  bye,  my  poor  boy,  good  bye," 
said  Clara,  hurriedly  ;  and  rushing  out  of 
the  room,  she  was  lifted  by  Mortimer  into 
the  carriage,  who  immediately  jumping  in 
after  her,  the  whip  cracked,  the  horses 
clattered,  and  all  was  out  of  sight  in  a 
second. 

'•  Why  is  she  gone  with  him  ?"  said  I, 
reproachfully,  turning  toward  my  aunt. 

"  Why,  my  dear,  a  very  sufficient  rea- 
son.    She  was  married  this  morning." 

This  was  my  first  love  ! 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

WISE  RESOLVES. 

Musikg  over  this  boyish  adventure,  I 
fell  into  a  deep  slumber,  and  on  awakening 
it  took  me  some  minutes  before  I  could  re- 
call my  senses  sufficiently  to  know  where 
I  was.  The  whole  face  of  things  in  my 
room  was  completely  changed.  Flowers 
had  been  put  in  the  china  vases  upon  the 
tables — two  handsome  lamps,  shaded  with 
gauzes,  stood  upon  the  consoles — illustrat- 
ed books,  prints,  and  caricatures,  were 
scattered  about.  A  pianoforte  had,  also, 
by  some  witchcraft,  insinuated  itself  into  a 
recess  near  the  sofa — a  handsome  little  tea- 
:e,  of  old  Dresden  china,  graced  a 
small  marqueterie  table— and  a  little  piquet 
table  stood  most  invitingly  beside  the  fire. 
1  had  scarcely  time  to  turn  my  eyes  from 
one  to  the  other  of  these  new  occupants 
when  I  heard  the  handle  of  my  door  gent- 


ly turn,  as  if  by  some  cautious  hand,  and 
immediately  closed  my  eyes  and  feigned 
sleep.  Through  my  half-shut  lids  I  per- 
ceived the  door  opened.  After  a  pause  of 
about  a  second,  the  skirt  of  a  white  muslin 
dress  appeared — then  a  pretty  foot  stole,  a 
little  farther  — and  at  last  the  slight  and 
graceful  figure  of  Emily  Bingham  advanc- 
ed noiselessly  into  the  room.  Fear  had 
rendered  her  deadly  pale  ;  but  the  effect  of 
her  rich  brown  hair,  braided  plainly  on 
either  side  of  her  cheek,  suited  so  well  the 
character  of  her  features,  I  thought  her 
far  handsomer  than  ever.  She  came  for- 
ward towards  the  table,  and  I  now  could 
perceive  that  she  had  something  in  her 
hand  resembling  a  letter.  This  she  placed 
near  my  hand — so  near  as  almost  to  touch 
it.  She  leaned  over  me — I  felt  her  breath 
upon  my  brow,  but  never  moved.  At  this 
instant,  a  tress  of  her  hair,  becoming  un- 
fastened, fell  over  upon  my  face.  She 
started— the  motion  threw  me  off  my 
guard,  and  I  looked  up.  She  gave  a  faint, 
scarcely  audible  shriek,  and  shrank  into 
the  chair  beside  me.  Recovering,  how- 
ever, upon  the  instant,  she  grasped  the  let- 
ter she  had  just  laid  down,  and  having 
crushed  it  between  her  fingers,  threw  it 
into  the  fire.  This  done — as  if  the  effort 
had  been  too  much  for  her  strength — she 
again  fell  back  upon  her  seat,  and  looked 
so  pale  I  almost  thought  she  had  fainted. 

Before  I  had  time  to  speak,  she  rose  once 
more  ;  and  now  her  face  was  bathed  in 
blushes,  her  eyes  swam  with  rising  tears, 
and  her  lips  trembled  with  emotion  as  she 
spoke. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  what  will  you — 
what  can  you  think  of  this  ?     If  you  but 

knew ;  "    and   here   she   faltered  and 

again  grew  pale,  while  I,  with  difficulty 
rising  from  the  sofa,  took  her  hand,  and 
led  her  to  the  chair  beside  it. 

"  And  may  I  not  know  ?  "  said  I ;  "  may 
I  not  know,  my  dear  " — I  am  not  sure  I 
did  not  say  dearest — "Miss  Bingham, 
when,  perhaps,  the  knowledge  might  make 
me  the  happiest  of  mortals  ?  " 

This  was  a  pretty  plunge  as  a  sequel  to 
my  late  resolutions.  She  hid  her  face  be- 
tween her  hands,  and  sobbed  for  some  sec- 
onds. 

"At  least,"  said  I,  "as  that  letter  was 
destined  for  me  but  a  few  moments  since, 
I  trust  that  you  will  let  me  hear  its  con- 
tents." 

"Oh  no — not  now  !"  said  she,  entreat- 
ingly  ;  and,  rising  at  the  same  time,  she 
turned  to  leave  the  room.  I  still  held  her 
hand,  and  pressed  it  within  mine.  I 
thought  she    returned    the    pressure.     I 


IL 1 RR  Y  L  ORREQ  UER. 


169 


leaned  forward  to  catch  her  eve,  when  the 
door  was  opened  hastily,  ami  ;i  most  extra- 
ordinary figure  presented  itself. 

It  was  a  short,  tat  man,  with  a  pair  of 
enormous  mustachios,  of  a  fiery  red  ;  huge 
bushy  whiskers  of  the  same  color  ;  a  blue 
frock  covered  with  braiding,  and  decorated 
with  several  crosses  ami  ribbons;  tight 
pantaloons  and  Hessian  boots,  with  long 
brass  spurs.  He  held  a  large  gold-headed 
cane  in  his  hand,  and  looked  aboul  with 
an  expression  of  very  equivocal  drollery, 
mingled  with  fear. 

"  .May  I  ask,  sir,"  said  I,  as  this  indi- 
vidual closed  the  door  behind  him,  "'  may 
I  ask  the  reason  for  this  intrusion  ?  *' 

"  Oh,  upon  my  conscience,  Hi  do — I'm 
sure  to  pass  muster,  now,"  said  the  well- 
known  voice  of  Mr.  O'Leary,  whose  pleas- 
ant features  began  to  dilate  amid  the  for- 
est of  red  hair  he  was  disguised  in.  "  But 
I  see  you  are  engaged,"  said  he,  with  a  sly 
look  at  Miss  Bingham,  whom  he  had  not 
yet  recognized  ;  "  so  I  must  contrive  to 
hide  myself  elsewhere,  I  suppose." 

"It  is  Miss  Bingham,"  said  I,  "'who 
has  been  kind  enough  to  come  here  with 
her  maid  to  bring  me  some  flowers.  Pray 
present  my  compliments  to  Mrs.  Bingham, 
and  say  how  deeply  I  feel  her  kind  atten- 
tion." 

Emily  rose  at  the  instant,  and  recover- 
ing her  self-possession  at  once,  said, — 

"  You  forget,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  it  is  a 
secret  from  whom  the  flowers  came  ;  at 
least  mamma  hoped  to  place  them  in  your 
vases  without  your  knowing.  So  pray 
don't  speak  of  it — and  I'm  sure  Mr. 
O'Leary  will  not  tell." 

If  Mr.  O'Leary  heard  one  word  of  this 
artful  speech  I  know  not,  but  he  certainly 
paid  no  attention  to  it,  nor  the  speaker, 
who  left  the  room  without  his  appearing 
aware  of  it. 

"  Now  that  she  is  gone — for  which 
Heaven  be  praised,"  said  I  to  myself — 
"  let  me  see  what  this  fellow  can  mean." 

As  I  turned  from  the  door,  I  could 
scarcely  avoid  laughing  aloud  at  the  figure 
before  me.  He  stood  opposite  a  large 
mirror,  his  hat  on  one  side  of  his  head, 
one  arm  in  his  breast,  and  the  other  ex- 
tended, leaning  upon  his  stick  ;  a  look  of 
as  much  ferocity  as  such  features  could 
accomplish  had  been  assumed,  and  his 
whole  attitude  was  a  kind  of  caricature 
of  a  melo-dramatic  hero  in  a  German 
drama. 

"  Why,  O'Leary,  what  is  all  this  ?" 
"Hush,  hush,"  said  he.  in  a  terrified 
whisper — "never  mention  that  name  again, 
till  we  are  over  the  frontier." 


"  But,  man,  explain-— what  do  you 
mean  ?" 

"  ( ';m't  you  gne  id  he,  drily. 

•'  [mpossible  ;  unless  t  he  i  ffair  .at  the 
salon  has  induced  you  to  take  this  disguise, 
I  cannol  conceive  the  reason." 

"  Nothing  further  from  it.  my  dear 
friend  ;  much  worse  i  ban  t  hal ." 

"  <  )ii!    with    it.    then,  ;it    otic-." 

'•  She's  come—  she's  here — in  this 
house — No.  29,  above  the  entresol!" 

"Who  is  here,  in  No.  29,  above  the 
entresol?  " 

••  Who,    but    Mrs.    O'Leary   herself.     I 

was  near  saying,  '  Bad  luck  to  her."  " 

"And  does  she  know  you  are  here  ?" 

"  That  is  what  I  can't  exactly  say," 
he,  "but  she  has  had  the  Livredes 
affairs  brought  up  to  her  room,  and  has 
been  making  rather  unpleasant  inquiries 
for  the  proprietor  of  certain  hieroglyphics 
beginning  with  0,  which  have  given  me 
great  alarm — the  more,  as  all  the  waiters 
have  been  sent  for  in  turn,  and  subjected 
to  long  examination  by  her.  So  I  have 
lost  no  time,  but,  under  the  auspices  of 
your  friend  Trevanion,  have  become  the 
fascinating  figure  you  find  me,  and  am 
now  Count  O'Linski,  a  Pole  of  noble  fam- 
ily, banished  by  the  Russian  government, 
with  a  father  in  Siberia,  and  all  that  ;  and 
I  hope,  by  the  end  of  the  week,  to  be  able 
to  cheat  "at  ecarte,  and  deceive  the  very 
police  itself." 

The  idea  of  O'Leary's  assuming  Buch 
a  metamorphosis  was  too  absurd  not 
to  throw  me  into  a  hearty  fit  of  laugh- 
ing, in  which  the  worthy  emigre  indulged 
also. 

'•But  why  not  leave  this  at  once." 
I,  "  if  you  are  so  much  in  dread  of  recog- 
nition ?  " 

"You  forget  the  trial,"  added  O'Leary. 
"I  must  be'  here  on  the  18th,  or  all  my 
bail  is  forfeited." 

"True — I  have  forgotten  that.      W 
now,  your  plans." 

"  Simply  to  keep  very  quiet  here  till  the 
affair  of  the  tribunal  is' over,  and  then  quit 
France  at  once.  Meanwhile,  Trevanion 
thinks  that  we  may,  by  a  bold  stratagem, 
send  Mrs.  O'Leary  off  on  a  wrong 
and  has  requested  Mrs.  Bingham  to  con- 
trive to  make  her  acquaintance,  and  ask 
her  10  tea  in  her  room,  when  she  will  see 
me.  en  Polonais,  at  a  distance,  you  know 
— hear  something  of  my  melancholy  des- 
tiny, from  Trevanion — ami  leave  the  hot<  ' 
quite  sure  she  has  no  claim  on  me.  Mean- 
while, some  others  of  the  party  are  to  men- 
tion incidentally  having  met  Mr.  O'Leary 
somewhere,  or  heard  of  his  decease,  or  any 


170 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


pleasant  little  incident  that  may  occur  to 
them." 

"  The  plan  is  excellent,"  said  I,  "  for  in 
all  probability  she  may  never  come  in  your 
way  again,  if  sent  off  on  a  good  errand  this 
time." 

'•That's  what  I'm  thinking,"  said 
O'Leary:  "and  I  am  greatly  disposed  to 
let  her  hear  that  I'm  with  Belzoni  in 
Egypt,  with  an  engagement  to  spend  the 
Christmas  with  the  Dey  of  Algiers.  That 
would  give  her  a  very  pretty  tour  for  the 
remainder  of  the  year,  and  show  her  the 
Pyramids.  But,  tell  me  fairly,  am  I  a 
good  Pole  ?" 

"  Bather  short,"  said  I,  "  and  a  little  too 
fat,  perhaps." 

"That  comes  from  the  dash  of  the  Tar- 
tar blood,  nothing  more ;  and  my  mother 
was  a  Fin,"  said  he,  "  she'll  never  ask 
whether  from  the  Blackwater  or  the  Baltic. 
How  I  revel  in  the  thought,  that  I  may 
smoke  in  company  without  a  breach  of  the 
unities.  But  1  must  go  :  there  is  a  gentle- 
man with  a  quinsy  in  No.  8,  that  gives  me 
a  lesson  in  Polish  this  morning.  So  good 
bye,  and  don't  forget  to  be  well  enough  to- 
night, for  you  must  be  present  at  my 
debut.'''' 

O'Leary  had  scarcely  gone,  when  my 
thoughts  reverted  to  Emily  Bingham.  1 
was  not  such  a  coxcomb  as  to  fancy  her  in 
love  with  me  ;  yet  certainly  there  was 
something  in  the  affair  which  looked  not 
unlike  it  ;  and  though,  by  such  a  circum- 
stance, every  embarrassment  which  pressed 
upon  me  had  become  infinitely  greater,  I 
could  not  dissemble  from  myself  a  sense  of 
pleasure  at  the  thought.  She  was  really  a 
very  pretty  girl,  and  improved  vastly  upon 
acquaintance.  Les  absents  out  toujour* 
tort  is  the  truest  proverb  in  any  language, 
and  I  felt  it,  in  its  fullest  force,  when  Tre- 
vanion  entered  my  room. 

"  Well,  Lorrequer, "  said  he,  "  your  time 
is  not  likely  to  hang  heavily  on  your  hands 
in  Paris,  if  occupation  will  prevent  it,  for 
I  find  you  are  just  now  booked  for  a  new 
scrape. " 

"  What  can  you  mean  ?"  said  I,  starting 
up. 

"  Why,  O'Leary,  who  has  been,  since 
your  illness,  the  constant  visitor  at  the 
Binghams — dining  there  every  day.  and 
spending  his  evenings — has  just  told  me 
that  the  mamma  is  only  waiting  for  the 
arrival  of  Sir  Guy  Lorrequer  in  Paris  to 
open  the  trenches  in  all  form  ;  and  from 
what  she  has  heard  of  Sir  Guy,  she  deems 
it  most  likely  he  will  give  her  every  aid 
and  support  to  making  you  the  husband  of 
the  fair  Emily." 


"And  with  good  reason,  too,"  saict  I; 
"for  if  my  uncle  were  only  given  in  un- 
derstand that,  1  had  once  gone  far  in  my 
attentions,  nothing  would  induce  him  to 
break  oil'  the  match.  lie  was  crossed  in 
love  himself  when  young,  and  has  made  a 
score  of  people  miserable  since,  in  the  be- 
nevolent idea  of  marrying  them  against 
every  obstacle." 

"  How  very  smart  you  have  become," 
said  Trevanion,  taking  a  look  round  my 
room,  and  surveying  in  turn  each  of  the 
new  occupants  ;  "you  must  certainly  reck- 
on upon  seeing  your  fair  friend  here,  or  all 
this  elegance  is  sadly  wasted." 

This  was  the  time  to  explain  all  about 
Miss  Bingham's  visit  ;  and  I  did  so,  of 
course  omitting  any  details  which  might 
seem  to  me  needless,  or  involving  myself 
in  inconsistency. 

Trevanion  listened  patiently  to  the  end — 
was  silent  for  some  moments — then  added: 

li  And  you  never  saw  the  letter  ?" 

"  Of  course  not.  It  was  burned  before 
my  eyes." 

"I  think  the  affair  looks  very  serious, 
Lorrequer.  You  may  have  won  this  girl's 
affections.  It  matters  little  whether  the 
mamma  be  a  hackneyed  match-maker,  or 
the  cousin  a  bullying  duelist.  If  the  girl 
have  a  heart,  and  that  you  have  gained  it 


"  Then  I  must  marry,  you  would  say." 
"  Exactly  so— -without  the  prompting  of 
your  worthy  uncle  ;  I  see  no  other  course 
open  to  you  without  dishonor.  My  advice, 
therefore,  is,  ascertain — and  that  speedily 
— how  far  your  attentions  have  been  at- 
tended with  the  success  you  dread — and 
then  decide  at  once.  Are  you  able  to  get 
as  far  as  Mrs.  Bingham's  room  this  morn- 
ing ?  If  so.  come  along.  I  shall  take  ail 
the  frais  of  la  chere  mamma  off  your 
hands,  while  you  talk  to  the  daughter  ; 
and  half  an  hour's  courage  and  resolution 
will  do  it  all." 

Having  made  the  most  effective  toilet 
my  means  would  permit,  my  right  arm  in 
a  sling,  and  my  step  trembling  from  weak- 
ness, i  sallied  forth  with  Trevanion  to  make 
love  with  as  many  fears  for  the  result  as 
the  most  bashful  admirer  ever  experienced, 
when  pressing  his  suit  upon  some  haughty 
belle — but  for  a  far  different  reason. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

THE   PROPOSAL. 

On  reaching  Mrs.  Bingham's  apartment, 
we  found  that  she  had  just  left  home  to 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


171 


wait  upon  Mrs.  O'Leary,  and  consequent- 
ly, that  Miss  Bingham  was  alone.  Tre- 
vanion,  therefore,  having  wished  me  a  safe 
deliverance    through    my    trying   mi 

shook  my  hand  warmly,  ami  departed. 

I  stood  for  some  minutes  irresolutely, 
Avith  my  hand  upon  the  lock  of  the  door. 
To  think  that  the  next  \v\\  moments  may 
decide  the  fortune  of  one's  after-life  is  a 
sufficiently  anxious  thought  ;  but  thai  your 
fate  may  be  so  decided,  by  compelling  you 
to  finish  in  sorrow  what  you  have  begun 
in  folly,  is  still  more" insupportable.  Such, 
then,  was  my  condition.  1  had  resolved 
within  myself,  if  the  result  of  this  meeting 
should  prove  that  I  had  won  Miss  Bing- 
ham's affections,  to  propose  for  her  at  once 
in  all  form,  and  make  her  my  wife.  If,  on 
the  other  hand,  I  only  found  that  she  too 
had  amused  herself  with  a  little  passing 
flirtation,  why  then,  I  was  a  free  man  once 
more  :  but,  on  catechizing  myself  a  little 
closer,  I  discovered  that  I  was  not  indis- 
posed to  make  love  de  num. 

With  the  speed  of  lightning,  my  mind 
ran  over  every  passage  of  onr  acquaintance 
— our  first  meeting — our  solitary  walks — 
our  daily,  hourly  associations — our  travel- 
ing intimacy — the  adventure  at  Chan- 
traine ;  there  was,  it  is  true,  nothing  in  all 
this  which  could  establish  the  fact  of  woo- 
ing, but  everything  which  should  convince 
an  old  offender  like  myself  that  the  young 
lady  was  en  prise,  and  that  I  myself — de- 
spite my  really  strong  attachment  else- 
where— was  not  entirely  scathless. 

"Yes,"  said  I,  half  aloud,  as  1  once  more 
reviewed  the  past,  "it  is  but  another  chap- 
ter in  my  history  in  keeping  with  all  the 
rest — one  step  has  ever  led  me  to  a  second, 
and  so  on  to  a  third  ;  what  with  other  men 
have  passed  for  mere  trifles,  have  ever  with 
me  become  serious  difficulties,  and  the 
false  enthusiasm  with  which  I  ever  follow 
any  object  in  life,  blinds  me  for  the  time, 
and  mistaking  zeal  for  inclination,  I  never 
feel  how  little  my  heart  is  interested  in 
success,  till  the  fever  of  pursuit  is  over.'* 

These  were  pleasant  thoughts  for  one 
about  to  throw  himself  at  a  pretty  girl's 
feet,  and  pour  out  his  '"'soul  of  love  before 
her;"'  but  that  with  me  was  the  least  part 
of  it.  Curran,  they  say,  usually  picked  up 
his  facts  in  a  ease  from  the  opposite  coun- 
sel's statements.  I  always  relied  for  my 
conduct  in  carrying  on  anything  to  the 
chance  circumstances  of  the  moment,  and 
trusted  to  my  animal  spirits  to  give  me  an 
interest  in  whatever,  for  the  time  being, 
engaged  me. 

1  opened  the  door.  Miss  Bingham  was 
sitting  at  a  table,  her  head  leaning  upon 


her  hands — some   open   letters   which 
before  her  evidently  so  occupying  her  at- 
tention   that    my  approach   was  unheard. 
On    my  addressing  her,  3he  turned  round 
suddenh .  and  became  a'  firs!  de<  ;• 
then  pale  as  death;  while,  turning  to  the 
.  <\\r  hurriedly  threw  her  letters  into 
a  drawer,  and  motioned   me  to   a    p 
side  her. 

After  'he  firs!  brief  and  commonplace 
inquiry  for  my  health,  and  hopes  for  my 
speedy  recovery,  .-he  became  silent  ;  and  1 
too.  primed  with  topics  innumerable  to 
discuss- — knowing  how  short  my  time 
might  prove  before  Mrs.  Bingham's  return 
—  could  not  say  a  word. 

"I  hope,  Mr.  Lorrequer,"  said    she.  al 
length,  '"that  you  have  incurred  no  i 
by  leaving  your  room  so  early." 

"I  have  noi."'  1  replied;  '•but  even 
were  there  a  certainty  of  it,  the  anxietj  1 
labored  under  to  see  ami  speak  with 
alone,  would  have  overcome  all  fears  on 
that  account.  Since  this  unfortunate 
business  has  confined  me  to  my  chaml 
1  have  done  nothing  hut  think  over  cir- 
cumstances which  have  at  length  so  en- 
tirely taken  possession  of  me,  that  I  must, 
at  any  sacrifice,  have  sought  an  oppor- 
tunity to  explain  to  you"- — here  Emil) 
looked  down,  and  I  continued — "  I  I 
scarcely  say  what  my  feelings  must  long 
since  have  betrayed,  thai  to  have  enjoyed 
the  daily  happiness  of  living  in  your  so- 
ciety, of  estimating  your  worth.,  of  fi  cling 
your  fascinations,  were  not  the  means  most 
in  request  for  him,  who  knew,  too  well, 
how  little  he  deserved,  cither  by  fortune  or 
desert,  to  hope  to  make  you  his  ;  and  ; 
how  little  has  prudence  or  caution  to  do 
with  situations  like  this.''  She  did 
guess  the  animus  of  this  speech.  "I  felt 
all  I  have  described  ;  and  yet.  and  yet,  I 
lingered  on,  prizing  too  dearly  the  happi- 
ness of  the  present  hour,  to  risk  it  by  any 
avowal  of  sentiments,  which  might  have 
banished  me  from  your  presence  tor  ever. 
If  the  alternation  o'f  these  hopes  and  :'■ 
has  proved  too  strong  for  my  reason  at 
,  I  cannot  help  it  ;  'and  this  it  is  which 
now  leads  me  to  make  this  avowal  to  you." 
Emily  turned  her  head  away  from  me  ;  but 
her  agitated  manner  showed  how  deeply 
my  words  had  affected  her;  and  1  too,  now 
that  I  had  finished,  felt  that  I  had  bet  n 
"coming  it  rather  strong" — though  per- 
haps not.  very  intelligibly. 

"  I  had  h.">;  ed.  Mr.  Lorrequer," said  she, 
at   length — "  I  had   hoped,  I    con!', 
have  had  an  opportunity  of  speaking  with 
you." — Then,  thought  I,  the  game  is  over, 
and    Bishop    Luscombe    is   richer   by   ten 


172 


CHARLES  LEVERS    WORKS. 


pounds  than  I  wish  him. — "Something,  I 

know  not  what,  m  your  manner,  led  mo 
to  suspect  that  your  affections  rnighi  lean 
towards  me  :  hints  you  have  dropped,  and, 
now  and  then,  your  chance  allusions 
si  lengthened  the  belief,  and  I  determined, 
at  length,  that  no  I'd']  ingot'  maidenly  shame 
on  my  part  should  endanger  the  happi- 
ness of  either  of  us,  and  I  resolved  to  see 
you  :  this  was  so  difficult,  that  I  wrote  a 
letter,  and  that  letter,  which  might  have 
saved  me  all  distressing  explanation,  I 
hurned  before  you  this  morning." 

"  But,  why,  dearest  girl," — hero  was  a 
plunge — "  why,  if  the  letter  could  remove 
any  misconstruction,  or  could  be  the  means 
of  dispelling  any  doubt — why  not  have  let 
me  see  it  ?  " 

"Hear  me  out,"  cried  she,  eagerly  and 
evidently  not  heeding  my  interruption;  "  1 
determined,  if  your  affections  were  indeed 

"     A  flood  of  tears  here  broke  forth, 

and  drowned  her  words  ;  her  head  sank 
between  her  hands,  and  she  sobbed  bitterly. 

"  Corpo  di  Baccho  !"  said  I  to  myself, 
" it  is  all  over  with  me;  the  poor  girl  is 
evidently  jealous,  and  her  heart  will 
break." 

"Dearest,  dearest  Emily,"  said  I,  pass- 
ing my  arm  round  her,  and  approaching 
my  head  close  to  hers,  "if  you  think  that 
any  other  love  than  yours  could  ever  beat 
within  this  heart — that  I  could  see  you 
hourly  before  me — live  beneath  your  smile, 
and  gaze  upon  your  beauty — and,  still  more 
than  all — pardon  the  boldness  of  the 
thought — feel  that  I  was  not  indifferent  to 
you " 

"  Oh  !  spare  me  this  at  least,"  said  she, 
turning  round  her  tearful  eyes  upon  me, 
and  looking  most  bewitchingly  beautiful. 
u  Have  I  then  shown  you  this  plainly  ?  " 

"Yes,  dearest  girl  !  That  instinct  which 
(fills  us  we  are  loved  has  spoken  within  me. 
And  here  in  this  beating  heart " 

"  Oh  !  say  no  more,"  said  she  ;  "  if  I  have 
indeed,  gained  your  affections " 

11  If- — if  you  have,"  said  I,  clasping  her 
to  my  heart,  while  she  continued  to  sob 
still  violently,  and  I  felt  half  disposed  to 
blow  my  brains  out  for  my  success.  How- 
ever, there  is  something  in  love-making,  as 
in  fox-hunting,  which  carries  you  along  in 
spite  of  yourself  ;  and  I  continued  to  pour 
forth  whole  rhapsodies  of  love  that  the 
tor  Fido  could  not  equal. 

"Enough,*'  said  she — "  it  is  enough  that 
you  love  me  and  that  I  have  encouraged 
your  so  doing.  But,  oh !  tell  me  once 
more,  and  think  how  much  of  future  hap- 
piness may  rest  upon  your  answer — tell  me, 
may  not  this  be  some  passing  attachment, 


which  circumstances  have  created,  and 
others  may  dispel  ?  Say,  might  not  ab- 
sence, time,  or  another  more  worthy " 

This  was  certainly  a  very  rigid  cross-ex- 
amination when  I  thought  the  trial  was 
over  !  and,  not  being  exactly  prepared  for 
it,  I  felt  no  other  mode  of  reply  than 
pressing  her  taper  fingers  alternately  to  my 
lips,  and  muttering  something  that  might 
pass  for  a  declaration  of  love  unalterable, 
but,  to  my  own  ears,  resembled  a  lament 
on  my  folly. 

"  .She  is  mine  now,"  thought  I,  "so  we 
must  e'en  make  the  best  of  it  ;  and  truly 
she  is  a  very  handsome  girl,  though  not  a 
Lady  Jane  Callonby.  The  next  step  is  the 
mamma  ;  but  I  do  not  anticipate  much 
difficulty  in  that  quarter." 

"Leave  me  now,"  said  she,  in  alow  and 
broken  voice;  "but  promise  not  to  speak 
of  this  meeting  to  any  one  before  we  meet 
again.  I  have  my  reasons  ;  believe  me 
they  are  sufficient  ones,  so  promise  me  this 
before  we  part." 

Having  readily  given  the  pledge  requir- 
ed, I  again  kissed  her  hand  and  bade  fare- 
well, not  a  little  puzzled  the  whole  time  at 
perceiving  that  ever  since  my  declaration 
and  acceptance  Emily  seemed  anything  but 
happy,  and  evidently  struggling  against 
some  secret  feeling  of  which  I  knew  noth- 
ing. "Yes,"  thought  I,  as  I  wended  my 
way  along  the  corridor,  "  the  poor  little 
girl  is  tremendously  jealous,  and  I  must 
have  said  many  a  thing  during  our  intimacy 
to  hurt  her.  However,  that  is  all  past  and 
gone  ;  and  now  comes  a  new  character  for 
me  :  my  next  appearance  will  be  in  the  part 
of  the  '  happy  husband.'  " 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

THOUGHTS  UPON  MATRIMONY  IN  GENERAL,  AND  IN 
THE  ARMY  IN.  PARTICULAR — THE  KNIGHT  OF 
KERRY  AND  BILLY   MXABE. 

"So,"  thought  I,  as  I  closed  the  door  of 
my  room  behind  me,  "I  am  accepted — the 
die  is  cast  which  makes  me  a  Benedict  : 
yet  Heaven  knows  that  never  was  a  man 
less  disposed  to  be  over  joyous  at  his  good 
fortune!"  What  a  happy  invention  it 
were,  if  when  adopting  any  road  in  life, 
we  could  only  manage  to  forget  that  we 
had  ever  contemplated  any  other  !  It  is 
the  eternal  looking  back  in  this  world  that 
forms  the  staple  of  all  our  misery  ;  and  we 
are  but  ill-requited  for  such  un happiness 
by  the  brightest  anticipations  we  can  con- 
jure up  for  the  future.     How  much  of  all 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


173 


that  "past"  was  now  to  become  a  source 
cf  painful  recollection,  and  to  how  little 
of  the  future  could  I  look  forward  with 
even  hope  ! 

Our  weaknesses  are  much  more  con- 
stantly the  spring  of  all  our  annoyances 
and  troubles  than  even  our  vices.  The 
one  we  hold  in  .some  .sort  of  subjection  : 
Ave  are  perfectly  slaves  to  the  others.  This 
thought  came  'home  most  forcibly  to  my 
bosom,  as  I  reflected  upon  the  step  which 
led  me  on  imperceptibly  to  m\  p 
embarrassment.  "Well,  c' est  frill,  now," 
said  I,  drawing  upon  that  bountiful  source 
of  consolation  ever  open  to  the  man  who 
mars  his  fortune — that  ''what  is  past  can't 
be  amended;"  which  piece  of  philosophy, 
a.s  well  as  its  twin  brother,  that  "all  will 
be  the  same  a  hundred  years  hence,"  have 
been  golden  rules  to  me  from  my  child- 
hood. 

The  transition  from  one  mode  of  life  to 
another  perfectly  different  has  ever  seemed 
to  me  a  great  trial  of  a  man's  moral  cour- 
age ;  besides  that  the  fact  of  quitting  for- 
ever anything",  no  matter  how  insignifi- 
cant or  valueless,  is  always  attended  with 
painful  misgivings.  My  bachelor  life  had 
its  share  of  annoyances  and  disappoint- 
ments, it  is  true ;  but  upon  the  whole,  it 
was  a  most  happy  one — and  now  I  was 
about  to  surrender  it  forever,  not  yielding 
to  the  impulse  of  affection  and  love  for  one 
without  whom  life  were  valueless  to  me, 
but  merely  a  recompense  for  the  indul- 
gence of  that  fatal  habit  I  had  contracted 
of  pursuing  with  eagerness  every  shadow- 
that  crossed  my  path.  All  my  early 
friends — all  my  vagrant  fancies — all  my 
day-dreams  of  the  future  I  was  now  to 
surrender — for,  what  becomes  of  any  man's 
bachelor  friends  when  he  is  once  married  ? 
Where  are  his  rambles  in  high  and  by- 
ways when  he  has  a  wife  ?  and  what  is  left 
for  anticipation  after  his  wedding,  except, 
perhaps,  to  speculate  upon  the  arrange- 
ment of  his  funeral  ?  To  a  military  man 
more  than  to  any  other  these  are  serious 
thoughts.  All  the  fascinations  of  an  army 
life,  in  Avar,  or  peace,  lie  in  the  daily. 
hourly  associations  with  your  brother  offi- 
cers— the  morning  cigar,  the  barrack- 
square  lounge — the  afternoon  ride — the 
game  of  billiards  before  dinner — the  mess 
(that  perfection  of  dinner  society) — the 
plans  for  the  evening — the  deviled  "kidney 
at  twelve — forming  so  many  points-  of  de- 
parture whence  you  sail  out  upon  your 
daily  voyage  through  life.  Versus  these, 
you  have  that  awful  perversion  of  all  that 
is  natural — an  officer's  wife.  She  has 
been  a  beauty  when  young,  had  black  eyes 


and  high  complexion,  a  good  figure,  rather 
inclined    i<>    embonpoint,    and    a    certain 

Springine88  in  her    wall.,   and    a    jaunt:: 

in  her  air,  that  are  ever  3ure  attrw 
a  sub.  in  a  marching  regiment,     she  can 
play   backgammon,    and  :»i    tanti 

palpiti,"  and,  if  an  Irishwoman,  is  certain 
i<»  he  able  to  ride  ;i  steeple-chaise,  and   has 
aliunde  a  lord,  who  (en  pan  nth    * 
turns  oik  to  l  e  a.  creal  ion   made 
James  after  Ins  abdication.    In  conclue 
she    breakfasts   en   papillotes — wears    her 
shoes  down  at  heel — calls  ever)  officer  of 
the   regiment   by   his   name — h: 
taste    for   increasing   his    majesl 
am!    delights   in   London  porter.     To  this 
genus  of  Vrow  I  have  never  ceased   t<>  en- 
tertain the  most  thrilling  abhorrenct  ;  and 
yet  how  often  have  1  seen    what  appeared 
to  be  pretty  and   interesting   s  11  into 

something  of   this   sort  !   and    how  often 
have  I  vowed  any  fate    to  mys  If   rather 
than  become  the  husband  of  a  bag 
waggon  wife  ! 

Had  all  my  most  sanguine  hopes  prom- 
ised realizing — had  my  suit  with  Lady 
Jane  been  favorable,  I  could  scarcely  have 
bade  adieu  to  my  bachelor  life  without  a 
sigh.  No  prospect  of  future  happiness 
can  ever  perfectly  exclude  all  regrei  at 
quitting  our  present  state  forever.  I  am 
sure  if  I  had  been  a  caterpillar,  it  would 
have  been  with  a  heavy  heart  thai  I  would 
have  donned  mywingsasa  butterfly.  Now 
the  metamorphosis  was  reversed  :  need  it 
he  wondered  if  I  were  sad  ? 

So  completely  was  I  absorbed  in  my 
thoughts  upon  this  matter,  thai  I  had  not 
perceived  the  entrance  of  O'Leary  and 
Trevanion,  who,  unaware  of  my  being  in 
the  apartment,  as  I  was  stretched  upon  a 
sofa  in  a  dark  corner,  drew  their  chairs 
toward  the  fire  and  began  chatting. 

"Do  you  know,  Mr.  Trevanion."  said 
O'Leary,  "  I  am  half  afraid  of  tins  disguise 
of  mine.  I  sometimes  think  I  am  not  like 
a  Pole  ;  and  if  she  should  discover  me " 

••  No  fear  of  that  in  the  world  :  your 
costume  is  perfect,  your  heard  unexcep- 
tionable. I  could,  perhaps,  have  desired  a 
little  less  paunch;  but  then " 

'•That  comes  of  fretting,  as  Falstaff 
says;  and  you  must  not  forget  that  1  am 
banished  from  my  country." 

"  Now.  as  to  your  conversation,  I  should 
advise  you  saying  very  lit  lie — not  one  word 
of  English.  You  may.  if  you  like,  call  in 
the  assistance  of  Irish  when  hard  pressed." 

"I  have  my  fears  on  that  score.  There 
is  no  knowing  where  that  might  lead  to 
discovery.  You  know-  the  story  of  the 
Knight  of  Kerry  and  Billy  M'Cabe  ?" 


174 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


"I  fear  I  must  confess  my  ignorance — I 
nave  never  heard  of  it." 

'•'Then  maybe  yon  never  knew  Giles 
Dackson  ?  " 

"I  have  net  that  pleasure  either." 

"  Lord  bless  me,  how  strange  that  is  !  I 
thought  he  was  better  known  than  the 
Dnke  of  Wellington  or  the  traveling  piper. 
Well,  I  must  tell  yon  the  story,  for  it  has  a 
moral,  too1 — indeed,  several  morals  ;  but 
you'll  find  that  out  for  yourself.  Well,  it 
seems  that  one  day  the  Knight  of  Kerry 
was  walking  along  the  Strand  in  London, 
killing  an  hour's  time,  till  the  House  was 
done  prayers,  and  Hume  tired  of  hearing 
himself  speaking  ;  his  eye  was  caught  by 
an  enormous  picture  displayed  upon  the 
wall  of  a  house,  representing  a  human  fig- 
ure covered  with  long  dark  hair,  with  huge 
nails  upon  his  hands,  and  a  most  fearful 
expression  of  face.  At  first  the*  Knight 
thought  it  was  Dr.  Bowring;  but  on  com- 
ing nearer  he  heard  a  man  with  a  scarlet 
livery  and  a  cocked  hat  cull  out,  '  Walk  in, 
ladies  and  gentlemen — the  most  vonderful 
curiosity  ever  exhibited — only  one  shilling 
— the  vild  man  from  Chippoowango,  in 
Africay — eats  raw  wittles  without  being 
cooked,  and  many  other  surprising  and 
pleasing  performances.' 

"The  Knight  paid  bis  money,  and  was 
admitted.  At  first  the  crowd  prevented 
his  seeing  anything — for  the  place  was  full 
to  suffocation,  and  the  noise  awful — for. 
besides  the  exclamations  and  applause  of 
the  audience,  there  were  three  barrel-or- 
gans, playing  'Home,  sweet  Home  !'  and 
*  Cherry  Ripe,'  and  the  Avild  man  himself 
contributed  his  share  to  fhe  uproar.  At 
last,  the  Knight  obtained,  by  dint  of 
squeezing  and  some  pushing,  a  place  in  the 
front,  when,  to  his  very  great  horror,  he 
beheld  a  figure  that  far  eclipsed  the  por- 
trait without  doors. 

'*  It  was  a  man  nearly  naked,  covered 
with  long,  shaggy  hair,  that  grew  even 
over  his  nose  and  cheek  bones.  He  sprang 
about,  sometimes  on  his  feet,  sometimes 
all-fours,  but  always  uttering  the  most 
■fearful  yells,  and  glaring  upon  the  crowd 
in  a  manner  that  was  really  dangerous. 
The  Knight  did  not  feel  exactly  happy  at 
the  whole  proceeding,  and  began  heartily 
to  wish  himself  back  in  the  '  House,'  even 
upon  a  committee  of  privileges,  when,  sud- 
denly, the  savage  gave  a  more  frantic 
scream  than  before,  and  seized  upon  a 
morsel  of  raw  beef,  which  a  keeper  extend- 
ed to  him  upon  a  long  fork,  like  a  tandem 
whip — he  was  not  safe,  it  appears,  at  close 
quarters  ; — this  he  tore  to  pieces  eagerly, 
and  devoured  in  the  most  voracious  man- 


ner, amid  great  clapping  of  hands,  and 
other  evidences  of  satisfaction  from  the 
audience.  '  I'll  go,  now,'  thought  the 
Knight,  'for  God  knows  whether,  in  his 
hungry  moods,  he  might  not  fancy  to  con- 
clude his  dinner  by  a,  member  of  Parlia- 
ment.' Just  at  this  instant,  some  sounds 
struck  upon  his  ear  that  surprised  him  not 
a  little,  lie  listened  more  attentively,  and 
conceive,  if  you  can,  his  "amazement  to 
find  that,  amid  his  most  fearful  cries  and 
wild  yells,  the  savage  was  talking  Irish. 
Laugh  if  yon  like,  but  it's  truth  I  am  tell- 
ing you — nothing  less  than  Irish.  There 
he  was,  jumping  four  feet  high  in  the  air, 
eating  his  raw  meat,  pulling  out  his  hair 
by  handfuls,  and  amid  all  this,  cursing  the 
whole  company  to  his  heart's  content,  in 
as  good  Irish  as  ever  was  heard  in  Tralee. 
Now,  though  the  Knight  had  heard  of  red 
Jews  and  white  Negroes,  he  had  never  hap- 
pened to  read  any  account  of  an  African 
Irishman  ;  so  he  listened  very  closely,  and 
by  degrees,  not  only  the  words  were  known 
to  him,  but  the  very  voice  was  familiar. 
At  length,  something  he  heard  left  no 
further  doubt  upon  his  mind,  and,  turning 
to  the  savage,  he  addressed  him  in  Irish, 
at  the  same  time  fixing  a  look  of  most 
scrutinizing  import  upon  him. 

"'Who  are  you,  you  scoundrel?5  said 
the  Knight. 

"  '  Billy  M'Cabe,  your  honor.' 

" '  And  what  do  you  mean  by  playing 
off  these  tricks  here,  instead  of  earning 
your  bread  like  an  honest  man  ?' 

"  '  Whisht  !'  said  Billy,  '  and  keep  the 
secret.  I'm  earning  the  rent  for  your 
honor.  One  must  do  many  a  queer  thing 
that  pays  two  pound  ten  an  acre  for  bad 
land.' 

"  This  was  enough  :  the  Knight  wished 
Billy  every  success,  and  left  him  amid  the 
vociferous  applause  of  a  wrell-satisfied  au- 
dience. This  adventure,  it  seems,  has 
made  the  worthy  Knight  a  great  friend  to 
the  introduction  of  poor  laws  ;  for,  he  re- 
marks very  truly,  'more  of  Billy's  country- 
men might  take  a  fancy  to  a  savage  life  if 
the  secret  was  found  out.' ': 

It  was  impossible  for  me  to  preserve  my 
incognito,  as  Mr.  O'Leary  concluded  his 
story,  and  I  was  obliged  to  join  in  the 
mirth  of  Trevanion,  who  laughed  loud  and 
lon°-  as  he  finished  it. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

A  REMINISCENCE. 


0'Lea.ry  and   Trevanion    had   scarcely 
left  the  room,   when    the    waiter  entered 


HA RR  Y  L  ORR EQ I  E /.'. 


175 


with  two  letters — the  one  bore  a  German 
post-mark,  and  was  in  the  well-known 
hand  of  Lady  Callonby — the  oilier  in  a 
writing  with  which  I  was  no  less  familiar — 
that  of   Emilj   Bingham. 

Let  any  one  who  Has  been  patient  enough 
to  follow  me  through  these  "  Confessions," 
conceive  my  agitation  at  this  moment. 
There  lay  my  fate  before  me,  coupled,  in 
all  likelihood,  with  ;i  view  of  what  it 
might  have  been  under  happier  auspice- — 
at  least  so  in  anticipation  did  1  read  the 
two  unopened  epistles.  My  late  interview 
with  Miss  Bingham  left  no  doubt  upon  my 
mind  that  1  had  secured  her  affections; 
and  acting  in  accordance  with  the  counsel 
of  Trevanion,  no  less  than  my  own  sense 
of  right,  I  resolved  upon  marrying  her, 
with  what  prospect  of  happiness  1  dared 
not  to  think  of! 

Alas  !  and  alas!  there  is  no  infatuation 
like  the  taste  for  flirtation — mere  empty, 
valueless,  heartless  flirtation.  You  hide 
the  dice-box  and  the  billiard  queue,  lest 
your  son  become  a  gambler — you  put  aside 
the  Racing  Calendar,  lest  he  imbibe  a 
jockey  predilection — but  you  never  trem- 
ble at  his  fondness  for  white  muslin  and  a 
satin  slipper,  far  more  dangerous  tastes 
though  they  be,  and  infinitely  more  peril- 
ous to.  a  man's  peace  and  prosperity  than 
all  the  "•Queens  of  trumps"  that  ever  fig- 
ured, whether  on  pasteboard  or  the  Doncas- 
ter  !  '•  Woman's  my  wakeness,  yer  honor," 
said  an  honest,  Patlander,  on  being  charged 
before  the  lord  mayor  with  having  four 
wives  living  ;  and  without  having  any  such 
"  Algerine  act "  upon  my  conscience,  I 
must,  I  fear,  enter  a  somewhat  similar  plea 
for  my  downfallings,  and  avow  in  hum- 
ble gratitude,  that  I  have  scarcely  had 
a  misfortune  through  life  unattributable 
to  them  in  one  way  or  another.  And  this 
I  say  without  any  reference  to  country, 
class,  or  complexion,  ''black,  brown,  or 
fair  ;"  from  my  first  step  forth  into  life, 
a  raw  sub.  in  the  gallant  4 — th,  to  this 
same  hour,  I  have  no  other  avowal,  no 
other  confession  to  make.  "Be  always 
ready  with  the  pistol,"  was  the  dying  ad- 
vice of  an  Irish  statesman  to  his  sons: 
mine,  in  a  similar  circumstance,  would 
rather  be  "  Oardez-vous  des  femmes"  and 
more  especially  if  they  be  Irish. 

There  is  something  almost  treacherous 
in  the  facility  with  winch  an  Irish  girl  re- 
ceives your  earlj  attentions  and  appears 
to  like  them,  that  invariably  turnsayoung 
fellow's  head  very  long  before  he  has  any 
prospect  of  touching  her  heart.  She 
thinks  it  so  natural  to  be  made  love  to, 
that  there   is  neither  anv  affected  covness 


nor  any  agitated  surpri  ena  to 

your  declaral  ion  of  love  as  quiel  !•.   a-  the 

chief  jii.-l  ice  would  to  one  of  law  .  and  re- 
fers t  lie  decision  to  a  packed  jury  of  her 
relatives,  who  rarely  recommend  yon  to 
mercy.  Love  and  fighting,  too,  are  so  in- 
timately united  in  Ireland,  thai  a  courtship 
rarely  progresses  w  it  bout  al  leas!  oi 
change  of  -hut-  bel  wecri  some  of  the  par- 
ties concerned.  My  first  twenty-four  hours 
in  Dublin  is  so  pleasantly  characterisl 
this,  that  1  ma)  as  well  relate  it  here, while 
the  subjeel    is  before  ns ;  b<  these 

''Confessions"  are  intended  ns  warnings 
and  guides  to  youth.  1  may  convej  a  useful 
lesson,  showing  why  a  man  should  not 
"  make  love  in  the  dark." 

It  was  upon  a  raw,  cold,  drizzling  morn- 
ing in  February,  is — ,  that,  our  regiment 
landed  on  the  North-wall  from  Liverpool, 
whence  we  had  been  been  hurriedly  order- 
ed to  repress  some  riots  and  disturbances 
then  amial  ing  Dublin. 

We  marched  to  the  Royal  Barracks,  our 
band  playing  "Patrick's  Day,"  to  the  very 
considerable  admiration  of  as  naked  a 
population  as  ever  loved  music.  The — th 
Dragoons  were  at  the  same  time  quartered 
there — right  pleasant,  jovial  fellows,  who 
soon  gave  us  to  understand  that  the  trou- 
bles were  over  before  we  arrived,  and  that 
the  great  city  authorities  were  now  re- 
turning thanks  for  their  preservation  from 
fire  and  sword  by  a  series  of  entertainments 
of  the  most  costly,  but  somewhat  incon- 
gruous, kind — the  company  being  scarce 
less  mixed  than  the  dishes.  Peers  and 
play-actors,  judges  and  gaolers,  archbishops, 
tailors,  attorneys,  rope-makers  and  apoth- 
ecaries, all  uniting  in  the  festive  delight 
of  good  feeding,  and  drinking  the  "glo- 
rious memory*' — but  of  whom  half  the 
company  knew  not,  only  surmising  '"it 
was  something  agin  the  papists."  You  may 
smile,  but  these  were  pleasant  times,  and 
I  scarcely  care  to  go  back  there  since  they 
were  changed.  But  to  return.  The  — th 
had  just  received  an  invitation  to  a  ball, 
to  be  given  by  the  high  sheriff,  and  to 
which  they  most,  considerately  said  we 
should  also  be  invited.  This  negotiation 
was  so  well  managed,  that  before  noon  we 
all  received  our  cards  from  a  green-liveried 
youth,  mounted  upon  a  very  emaciated 
pony — the  whole  turn-out  not  auguring 
flatteringly  of  the  high  sheriffs  taste  in 
equipage. 

We  dined  with  the  — th,  and,  as  custom- 
ary before  going  to  an  evening  party,  took 
the  "  other  bottle"  of  claret  that  lies  be- 
yond the  frontier  of  prudence.  In  fact, 
from    the   lieutenant-colonel   down  to  the 


176 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


newly-joined  ensign,  there  was  not  a  face 
in  the  party  that  did  not  betray  "signs  of 
the  times"  that  promised  most  favorably 
for  the  mirth   of  the  sheriff's  ball.     We 

were  so  perfectly  up  to  the  mark,  that  our 
major,  a  Connemara  man,  said,  as  we  lefl 
the  mess-room,  "a  liqueur  glass  would 
spoil  us." 

In  this  acme  of  our  intellectual  wealth, 
we  started  about  eleven  o'clock  upon  every 
species  of  conveyance  that  chance  could 
press  into  the  service.  Of  hackney-coach- 
es there  were  few.  but  in  jingles,  noddies, 
and  jaunting-cars,  with  three  on  a  side  and 
"  one  in  the  well,"  we  mustered  strong. 
Down  Barrack  Street  we  galloped,  the  mob 
cheering  us,  we  laughing,  and  I'm  afraid 
shouting  a  little,  too  —  the  watchmen 
springing  their  rattles,  as  if  instinctively 
at  noise,  and  the  whole  population  up  and 
awake,  evidently  entertaining  a  high  opin- 
ion of  our  convivial  qualities.  Our  voices 
became  gradually  more  decorous,  however, 
as  we  approached  the  more  civilized  quar- 
ter of  the  town  ;  and  with  only  the  slight 
stoppage  of  the  procession  to  pick  up  an 
occasional  dropper-off,  as  he  lapsed  from 
the  seat  of  a  jaunting-car,  we  arrived  at 
length  at  our  host's  residence,  somewhere 
in  Sackville  Street. 

Had  our  advent  conferred  the  order  of 
knighthood  upon  the  host,  he  could  not 
have  received  us  with  more  delight.  He 
shook  us  all  in  turn  by  the  hand,  to  the 
number  of  eight-and-thirty,  and  then  pre- 
sented us  seriatim  to  his  spouse,  a  very 
bejeweled  lady  of  some  forty  years — who, 
what  between  bugles,  feathers,  and  her 
turban,  looked  excessively  like  a  Chinese 
pagoda  upon  a  saucer.  The  rooms  were 
crowded  to  suffocation — the  noise  awful — 
and  the  company  crushing  and  elbowing 
rather  a  little  more  than  you  expect  where 
the  moiety  are  of  the  softer  sex.  How- 
ever, Ave  all  so  perfectly  fell  in  with  the 
habits  of  the  place,  that  ere  half  an  hour, 
we  squeezed,  ogled,  leered,  and  drank 
champagne  like  the  rest  of  the  corporation. 

"  Devilish  hot  work,  this,"  said  the  col- 
onel, as  he  passed  me  with  two  rosy- 
lieeked,  smiling  ladies  on  either  arm  ; 
■"(the  mayor — that  little  fellow  in  the 
punch-colored  shorts — has  very  nearly  put 
me  liors  do  combat  with  strong  negus  ;  take 
care  of  him,  I  advise  you.". 

Tipsy  as  I  felt  myself,  I  was  yet  suffi- 
ciently clear  to  be  fully  alive  to  the  drollery 
of  the  scene  before  me.  Flirtations,  that, 
under  other  circumstances,  would  demand 
the  secresy  and  solitude  of  a  country  green 
lane,  <»r  some  garden  bower,  were  here  con- 
ducted in  all  the  open  effrontery  of  wax- 


lights  and  lusters  ;  looks  were  inter- 
changed, hands  were  squeezed,  and  soft 
things  whispered,  and  smiles  returned;  till 
the  intoxication  of  "punch  negus"  and 
spiced  port  gave  way  to  the  far  greater  one 
of  bright  looks  and  tender  glances.  Quad- 
rilles and  country  dances — waltzing  there 
Avas  none  (perhaps  all  for  the  best) — whist, 
backgammon,  loo— unlimited  for  uproar 
— sandwiches,  and  warm  liquors,  employed 
us  pretty  briskly  till  supper  was  announc- 
ed, when  a  grand  squeeze  took  place  on 
the  stairs — the  population  tending  thither- 
ward with  an  eagerness  that  a  previous 
starvation  of  twenty-four  hours  could 
alone  justify.  Among  this  dense  mass  of 
moving  muslin,  velvet  and  broadcloth,  I 
found  myself  chaperoning  an  extremely 
tempting  little  damsel,  with  a  pair  of 
laughing  blue  eyes  and  dark  eyelashes, 
who  had  been  committed  to  my  care  and 
guidance  for  the  passage. 

"Miss  Moriarty,  Mr.  Lorrequer,"  said 
an  old  lady  in  green  and  spangles,  who  I 
afterwards  found  was  the  lady  mayoress. 

"  The  nicest  girl  in  the  room,"  said  a 
gentleman  with  a  Tipperary  accent,  "  and 
has  a  mighty  sweet  place  near  Athlone." 

The  hint  was  not  lost  upon  me,  and  I 
speedily  began  to  "make  up"  to  my 
charge  ;  and  before  we  reached  the  sup- 
per-room, learned  certain  particulars  of 
her  history,  which  I  have  not  yet  forgot- 
ten. She  was,  it  seems,  sister  to  a  lady 
then  in  the  room,  the  wife  of  an  attorney, 
who  rejoiced  in  the  pleasing  and  classical 
appellation  of  Mr.  Mark  Anthony  Fitzpat- 
rick  ;  the  aforesaid  Mark  Anthony  being 
a  tall;  raw-boned,  black-whiskered,  ill- 
looking  dog,  that  from  time  to  time  con- 
trived to  throw  very  uncomfortable-look- 
ing glances  at  me  and  Mary  Anne,  for  she 
was  so  named,  the  wdiole  time  of  supper. 
After  a  few  minutes,  however,  I  totally 
forgot  him,  and,  indeed,  everything  else, 
in  the  fascination  of  my  fair  companion. 
She  shared  her  chair  with  me,  upon  which 
I  supported  her  by  my  arm  passed  round 
the  back;  we  eat  our  pickled  salmon,  jelly, 
blanc-mange,  cold  chicken,  ham,  and  cus- 
tard off  the  same  plate,  with  an  occasional 
squeeze  of  the  finger,  as  our  hands  met — 
her  eyes  making  sad  havoc  with  me  all  the 
while,  as  I  poured  my  tale  of  love — love, 
lasting,  burning,  all-consuming — into  her 
not  unwilling  ear. 

"Ah  !  now,  ye'r  not  in  earnest  ?" 

"Yes,  Mary  Anne,  by  all  that's " 

"Well,  there  now,  don't  swear,  and  take 
care — sure  Mark  Anthony  is  looking." 

"  Mark  Anthony  be — — " 

"  Oh  !  how  passionate  you  are  ;  I'm  sure 


"whisht!"  said  billy,  "and  keep  the  SECRET.     I'M  earning  the  rent  for  your 

HONOR.        ONE    MUST    DO    MANY    A    QUEER    THING    THAT    PAYS    TWO    POUND   TEN    AN 
ACRE   FOR   BAD   LAND."        (P.   174.) 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


177 


I  never  could  live  easy  with  you.     There, 
now,  give  me  some  sponge-cake,  and  don't 

be  squeezing  me  or  they'll  sec  you.'' 
"Yes,  to  my  heart,  dearest  girl." 

"  Ocll,  it's  cheese  you're  giving  me.  said 

she,  with  a  grimace  that  nearly  cured   my 
passion. 

"A  cottage,  a  hut,  with  you  —  with 
you!"  said  I,  in  a  cadence  that  I  defy 
Macready  to  rival.  "What  is  worldly 
splendor,  or  the  empty  glitter  of  rank  ?" 

I  here  glanced  at  my  epaulets,  upon 
which  I  saw  her  eyes  riveted. 

"  Isn't  the  ginger-beer  beautiful  !"  said 
she,  emptying  a  glass  of  champagne. 

Still  1  was  not  to  be  roused  from  my 
trance,  and  continued  my  courtship  as 
warmly  as  ever. 

"  I  suppose  you  will  come  home  now  ;" 
said  a  gruff  voice  behind  Mary  Anne. 

I  turned  and  perceived  Mark  Anthony 
with  a  grim  look  of  peculiar  import. 

"Oh,  Mark,  dear,  I'm  engaged  to  dance 
another  set  with  this  gentleman." 

"Ye  are,  are  ye  ?"  replied  Mark,  eye- 
ing me  askance.  "  Troth  and  I  think  the 
gentleman  would  be  better  if  he  went  off 
to  his  flea-bag  himself."' 

In  my  then  mystified  intellect  this  west- 
country  synonym  for  a  bed  a  little  puzzled 
me. 

"  Yes,  sir,  the  lady  is  engaged  to  me : 
have  you  anything  to  say  to  that  ?  " 

"  Nothing  at  present,  at  all,"  said  Mark, 
almost  timidly. 

"Oh  dear,  oh  dear,"  sobbed  Mary 
Anne;  "they're  going  to  fight,  and  he'll 
be  killed — I  know  he  will." 

For  which  of  us  this  fate  was  destined, 
I  stopped  not  to  consider,  but  taking  the 
lady  under  my  arm,  elbowed  my  way ( to 
the  drawing-room,  amid  a  very  sufficient 
patting  upon  the  back,  and  thumping  be- 
tween the  shoulders,  bestowed  by  mem- 
bers of  the  company  who  approved  of  my 
proceedings.  The  three  fiddles,  the  flute, 
and  bassoon,  that  formed  our  band,  being 
by  this  time  sufficiently  drunk,  played 
after  a  fashion  of  their  own,  which  by  one 
of  those  strange  sympathies  of  our  nature, 
imparted  its  influence  to  our  legs,  and  a 
country  dance  was  performed  in  a  style  of 
free  and  easy  gesticulation  that  defies  de- 
scription. At  the  end  of  eighteen  couple, 
tired  of  my  exertions — and  they  were  not 
slight — I  leaned  my  back  against  the  wall 
of  the  room,  which  I  now,  for  the  first 
time,  perceived  was  covered  with  a  very 
peculiar  and  novel  species  of  hanging — no 
less  than  a  kind  of  rough,  green  baize 
cloth,  that  moved  and  floated  at  every 
motion  of  the  air.  I  paid  little  attention 
vol.  1.— 12 


to  this,  till   suddenly  turning  my   head, 
something  -eve  way  behind  it.     1  felt  my- 
self struck  upon  the  hack  of  the  neck,  and 
fell   forward   into  the   room,  covered  by  a 
perfect     avalanche    of     fenders,    fire-ir. 
frying-pans,   and    copper-kettles,  mim. 
with    the    lesser   artillery   of  small   nails, 
door  keys,    and    bold-fasts      There   1    lay 
amid  •  I  he   mosl    \  ocifi  roue   mirth    I   1 
listened  to,  under  the  confounded  torr 
of    ironmongery    thai    half  stunned   me. 
The  laughter  over,  I   was  assisted  to  rise, 
and  having  drunk  about  a  pin!  of  vinegar, 
and   had   my   face  and   temples  washed  in 
strong  whiskey   punch — the  allocation   of 
the  fluids  being  mistaken — I  learned  that 
our  hpst,  the  high  shei    f,         acelebrated 
tin  and   iron  man,  and  that  his  ball-room 
was  no  other  than   his  magazine  of  metal-, 
and  that  to  conceal  the  well-filled  shelves 
from  the  gaze  of  his  aristocratic  gu< 
they  were  clothed  in   the  manner  related  : 
which  my  unhappy  head,  by  seme  misfor- 
tune,   displaced,  and   thus    brought    on  a 
calamity    scarcely    less    afflicting    to    him 
than  to    myself.     I    should   scarcely    have 
stopped  to  mention  this  here,  were  it  not 
that  Mary  Anne's  gentle  nursing  of  me  in 
my  misery  went  far  to  complete  what  her 
fascination  had  begun  :  and  although  she 
could  not  help  laughing  at  the  occurrence. 
I  forgave  her  readily  for  her  kindness. 

"Eemember,"  said  I,  trying  to  ogle 
through  a  black  eye,  painted  by  the  angle 
of  a  register  grate — "remember,  Mary 
Anne,  I  am  to  see  you  home." 

"  Oh  !  dear,  sir.  sure  I  don't  know  how 
you  can  manage  it " 

Here  Mark  Anthony's  entrance  cut 
short  her  speech,  for  he  came  to  declare 
that  some  of  the  officers  had  taken  his 
coach,  and  was,  as  might  be  supposed,  in 
a  towering  passion. 


with  an  air  of  the 
-"  if  I  can  be  of  any 
to  see   your  friends 


If,  sir,"  said  I, 
most  balmy  courtesy- 
use  in  assisting  you 
home " 

"Ah!  then,  ye'r  a  nice  looking  article 
to  see  ladies  home.  I  wish  you  seen  your- 
self this  minute.'"  said  he. 

As  I  felt  it  would  be  no  breach  of  the 
unities — time,  place,  and  •everything  con- 
sidered— to  smash  his  skull.  [  shouh 
tainly  have  proceeded  to  do  so,  had  not  a 
look"  of  the  most  imploring  kind  from 
Mary  Anne  restrained  me.  By  this  time, 
he  had  taken  her  under  the  arm,  and  was 
leading  her  away.  I  stood  irresolute,  till 
a  glance  from  my  charmer  caught  mo ; 
when  I  rallied  at  once,  and  followed  them 
down  stairs.  Here  the  scene  was  to  the 
full  as  the  above  :  the  cloaking,  shawling, 


178 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


shoeing,  etc.,  of  the  ladies  being  certainly 
as  mirth-moving  a  process  as  I  should  wish 
to  see.  Here  wore  mothers  Irving  to  col- 
lect their  daughters,  as  a  hen  her  chickens, 
and  as  in  that  case,  the  pursuit  of  one 
usually  lost  all  the  others  ;  testy  papas 
swearing,  lovers  leering,  as  they  twisted 
the  boas  round  the  fair  throats  of  their 
sweethearts;  vows  of  love,  mingling  with 
lamentations  for  a  lost  slipper  or  a  stray 
mantle.  Sometimes  the  candles  were  ex- 
tinguished, and  the  melee  became  greater, 
till  the  order  and  light  were  restored  to- 
gether. Meanwhile,  each  of  our  fellows 
had  secured  his  fair  one,  save  myself,  and 
I  was  exposed  to  no  small  ridicule  for  my 
want  of  tact.  Nettled  by  this,  1  made  a 
plunge  to  the  comer  of  the  room,  where 
Mary  Anne  was  shawling  ;  I  recognized 
her  pink  sash,  threw  her  cloak  over  her 
shoulders,  and  at  the  very  moment  that 
Mark  Anthony  drew  his  wife's  arm  within 
his,  I  performed  the  same  by  my  friend, 
and  followed  them  to  the  door.  Here  the 
grim  brother-in-law  turned  round  to  take 
Mary  Anne's  arm,  and  seeing  her  with  me, 
merely  gave  a  kind  of  hoarse  chuckle,  and 
muttered,  "Very  well,  sir  :  upon  my  con- 
science, you  will  have  it,  I  see."  During 
this  brief  interval,  so  occupied  was  I  in 
watching  him,  that  I  never  once  looked  in 
my  fair  friend's  face  ;  but  the  gentle 
squeeze  of  her  arm,  as  she  leaned  upon 
me,  assured  me  that  I  had  her  approval  of 
what  I  was  doing. 

What  were  the  precise  train  of  my 
thoughts,  and  what  the  subjects  of  conver- 
sation between  us,  I  am  unfortunately  now 
unable  to  recollect.  It  is  sufficient  to  re- 
member, that  I  could  not  believe  five  min- 
utes had  elapsed,  when  we  arrived  at  York 
Street. 

"  Then  you  confess  you  love  me,"  said  I, 
as  I  squeezed  her  arm  to  my  side.  "Then, 
by  this  kiss,  I  swear  never   to   relinquish 

What  I  was  about  to  add  I  am  sure  I 
know  not  ;  but  true  it  is  that  a  certain 
smacking  noise  here  attracted  Mr.  Mark 
Anthony's  attention,  who  started  round, 
looked  us  full  in  the  face,  and  then  grave- 
ly added,  "  Enough  is  as  good  as  a  feast. 
I  wish  you  pleasant  drames,  Mr.  Larry 
Kar,  if  that's  your  name  ;  and  you'll  hear 
from  me  in  the  morning." 

"I  intend  it,"    said  I.      "Good  night. 

dearest  ;  think  of "     The  slam  of  the 

•street  door  in  my  face  spoiled  the  perora- 
tion, and  I  turned  towards  home. 

By  the  time  I  reached  the  barracks,  the 
united  effects  of  champagne,  sherry,  and 
Sheffield  iron,  had  in  a  good  measure  sub- 


sided, and  my  head  had  become  sufficient- 
ly clear  to  permit  a  slight  retrospect  of  the 
evening's  amusement. 

From  two  illusions  I  was  at  last  awaken- 
ed : — First,  the  high-sheriff's  ball  was  not 
the  most  accurate  representation  of  high 
society  ;  secondly,  I  was  not  deeply  enam- 
ored of  Mary  Anne  Moriarty.  Strange  as 
it  may  seem,  and  how  little  soever  the  ap- 
parent connection  between  those  two  facts, 
the  truth  of  one  had  a  considerable  influ- 
ence in  deciding  the  other.  "  JV'i?nporte," 
said  I,  "the  thing  is  over  ;  it  was  rather 
good  fun,  too,  upon  the  whole — saving  the 
chute  tics  casseroles;  and  as  to  the  lady, 
she  must  have  seen  it  was  a  joke  as  well  as 
myself.  At  least,  so  I  am  decided  it  shall 
be  ;  and  as  there  was  no  witness  to  our 
conversation,  the  thing  is  easily  got  out 
of." 

The  following  day,  as  I  was  dressing  to 
ride  out,  my  servant  announced  no  less  a 
person  than  Mr.  Mark  Anthony  Fitzpat- 
rick,  who  said  "  that  he  came  upon  a  little 
business,  and  must  see  me  immediately." 

Mr.  Fitzpatrick,  upon  being  announced, 
speedily  opened  his  negotiation  by  asking, 
in  very  terse  and  unequivocal  phrase,  my 
intentions  regarding  his  sister-in-law. 
After  professing  the  most  perfect  astonish- 
ment at  the  question,  and  its  possible  im- 
port, I  replied,  that  she  was  a  most  charm- 
ing person,  with  whom  I  intended  to  have 
nothing  whatever  to  do. 

"And  maybe  you  never  proposed  for  her 
at  the  ball  last  night  ?  " 

"  Propose  for  a  lady  at  a  ball  the  first 
time  I  ever  met  her  ! " 

"Just  so.  Can  you  carry  your  memory 
so  far  back  ?  or,  perhaps,  I  had  better  re- 
fresh it."  And  he  here  repeated  the  whole 
substance  of  my  conversation  on  my  way 
homeward,  sometimes  in  the  very  words  I 
used. 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,  the  young  lady 
could  never  have  supposed  I  used  such  lan- 
guage as  this  you  have  repeated  ?" 

"So,  then,  you  intend  to  break  off? 
Well,  then,  it's  right  to  tell  you  that  you're 
in  a  very  ugly" scrape,  for  it  was  my  wife 
you  took  home  last  night — not  Miss  Mori- 
arty ;  and  I  leave  you  to  choose  at  your 
leisure  whether  you'd  rather  be  defendant 
in  a  suit  for  breach  of  promise  or  seduc- 
tion ;  and,  upon  my  conscience.  I  think  it's 
civil  in  me  to  give  you  a  choice." 

What  a  pretty  disclosure  was  here!  So 
that  while  I  was  imagining  myself  squeez- 
ing the  hand  and  winning  the  heart  of  the 
fair  Mary  Anne,  I  was  merely  making  a 
case  of  strong  evidence  for  a  jury,  that 
might   expose  me  to  the    world,  and  half 


HARRY  LORREQVEH. 


179 


ruin  mc  in  damages.  There  was  but  one 
course  open — to  make  a  fight  for  it  ;  and, 
from  what  I  saw  of  my  friend  Mark  An- 
thony, this  did  not  seem  difficult. 

I  accordingly  assumed  a  high  ton<  — 
laughed  at  the  entire  affair— said  it  was  a. 
"  way  thai  we  had  in  the  army  " — that  "  we 
never  meant  anything  by  it,"  etc.,  etc. 

In  a  few  minutes  I  perceived  the  bail 
was  taking.  Mr.  Fitzpatrick's  west  coun- 
try blood  was  up  :  all  thought  of  tie  I 
resource  was  abandoned  ;  and  he  flung  out 
of  the  room  to  find  a  friend,  I  having 
given  him  the  name  of  "one  of  ours"  as 
mine  upon  the  occasion. 

Very  little  time  was  lost,  for  before  three 
o'clock  that  afternoon  a  meeting  was  fixed 
for  the  following  morning  at  the  North 
Bull  ;  and  1  had  the  satisfaction  of  hear- 
ing that  I  only  escaped  the  malignant  elo- 
quence of  Holmes  in  the  King's  Bench,  to 
be  "blazed''  at  by  the  best  shot  on  the 
western  circuit.  The  thought  was  not 
agreeable,  and  I  indemnified  myself  for  the 
scrape  by  a  very  satisfactory  anathema 
upon  the  high  sheriff,  and  his  ball,  and 
his  confounded- saucepans  ;  for  to  the  lady's 
sympathy  for  my  sufferings  I  attributed 
much  of  my  folly. 

At  eight  the  next  morning  I  found  my- 
self standing  with  Curzon  and  the  doctor 
upon  the  bleak  portion  of  her  Majesty's 
dominions  they  term  the  North  Bull, 
waiting,  in  a  chilly  rain,  and  a  raw  fog, 
till  it  pleased  Mark  Anthony  Fitzpatrick 
to  come  and  shoot  me — such  being  the 
precise  terms  of  our  combat,  in  the  opin- 
ion of  all  parties. 

The  time,  however,  passed  on,  and  half- 
past  eight,  three-quarters,  and  at  last  nine 
o'clock,  without  his  appearing;  when,  just 
as  Curzon  had  resolved  upon  our  leaving 
the  ground,  a  hack-jaunting  car  was  seen 
driving  at  full  speed  along  the  road  near 
us.  It  came  nearer,  and  at  length  drew 
up  ;  two  men  leaped  off  and  came  toward 
us,  one  of  whom,  as  he  came  forward,  took 
off  his  hat  politely, and  introduced  himself 
as  Mr.  O'Gorman,  the  fighting  friend  of 
Mark  Anthony. 

"It's  a  mighty  unpleasant  business  I'm 
come  upon,  gentlemen,"  said  he.  "Mr. 
Fitzpatrick  has  been  unavoidably  prevent- 
ed from  having  the  happiness  to  meet  you 
this  morning " 

"Then  you  can't  expect  us,  sir, to  dance 
attendance  upon  him  here  to-morrow," 
said  Curzon,  interrupting. 

a  By  no  manner  of  means,"  replied  the 
other,  placidly,  "for  it  would  be  equally 
inconvenient  for  him  to  be  here  then. 
But  I  have  only  to  say,  that  as  I'm  here 


for  my  friend,  and   know  all  the  particu- 
lars  of   tii'-   case,   maybe   you'd  have  the 
kindness  to  waive  all  etiquef  te,  and 
stand  in  his  place.'5 

"Certainly   ami    most    decidedly    not." 
said    Curzon.      "Waive   etiquette '.—why, 
sir,  we  have  no  quarrel   with  you  ; 
saw  yon  befon   " 

•"Well.  now.  isn't  this  hard  ?  "  said  Mr. 
O'Gorman,  addressing  his  friend,  who 
stood  by  with  ;i  pistol-ca  r  his  arm  ; 

"but  I  told  Mark  that  I  was  sure  they'd 
he  standing  upon  punctilio,  for  they  were 
English.  Well,  hi-,"  -aid  he,  turning 
toward  ( !urzon,  u  t  here's  hut  one  way  to 
arrange  it  now,  that  I  sec  Mr.  Fitzpat- 
rick, you  must  know,  was  arrested  this 
morning  for  a  trifle  of  £140.  If  you.  or 
your  friend  there,  will  join  us  in  the  hail. 
we  can  get  him  out,  and  he'll  fight  you  in 
the  morning  to  your  satisfacti* 

When  the  astonishment  this  pro 
had  created  subsided,  we  assured  Mr. 
O'Gorman  that  we  were  noways  disposed 
to  pay  such  a  price  for  our  amusement — a 
fact  that  seemed  considerably  to  surprise 
both  him  and  his  friend — and  adding,  that 
to  Mr.  Fitzpatrick  personally  we  should 
feel  bound  to  hold  ourselves  pledged  at  a 
future  period,  we  left,  the  ground.  Curzon 
laughing  heartily  at  the  original  expedi- 
ent thus  suggested,  while  I  inwardly  pro- 
nounced a  most  glowing  eulogy  on  the  law 
of  imprisonment  for  debt. 

Before  Mr.  Fitzpatrick  obtained  the 
benefit  of  the  act,  Ave  were  ordered  abroad, 
and  I  have  never  since  heard  of  him. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 


THE   TWO   LETTERS. 


Fro:\i  the  digression  of  the  last  chapter 
I  was  recalled  by  the  sight  of  the  two  let- 
ters which  lay,  during  my  reverie,  unopen- 
ed before  me.  I  first  broke  the  seal  of 
Lady  Callonby's  epistle,  which  ran 
thus  : — 

■•  Munich,  La  Croix  Blanche. 

"My   dear   Mr.   Lorrequer, — I  hare 

just  heard  from  Kilkee  that  you  are  at 
length  about  to  pay  us  your  long-promised 
visits  and  write  these  few  lines.to  beg  that 
before  leaving  Paris  you  will  kindly  exe- 
cute for  me  the  commissions  of  which  I 
inclose  a  formidable  list,  or  at  least  as 
many  of  them  as  you  can  conveniently  ac- 
complish. Our  stay  here  now  will  be  so 
short,  thai  it  will  require  all  your  dispatch 
to  overtake  us  before  reaching  Milan,  Lady 


180 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


June's  health  requiring  an  immediate 
change  of  climate.  Our  pleasant  plans 
are,  to  winter  in  Italy,  although  such  will 
interfere  considerably  with  Lord  Callonby, 
who  is  pressed  much  by  his  friends  to  ac- 
cept office.  However,  all  this  and  other 
gossip  I  reserve  for  our  meeting.  Mean- 
while adieu  !  and  if  any  of  my  commis- 
sions bore  you,  omit  them  at  once,  ex- 
cept the  white  roses  and  the  Brussels  veil, 
which  Lady  Jane  is  most  anxions  for. 
"  Sincerely  yours, 

"Charlotte  Callonby." 

How  much  did  these  few  and  apparently 
commonplace  lines  convey  to  me?  First, 
my  visit  was  not  only  expected,  but  actu- 
ally looked  forward  to,  canvassed — perhaps 
I  might  almost  whisper  to  myself  the  flat- 
tery—  wished  for.  Again,  Lady  Jane's 
health  was  spoken  of  as  precarious  ;  less 
actual  illness — I  said  to  myself — than  mere 
delicacy  requiring  the  bluer  sky  and 
warmer  air  of  Italy.  Perhaps  her  spirits 
were  affected — some  mental  malady — some 
ill-placed  passion — que  mis-je  ?  In  fact, 
my  brain  ran  on  so  fast  in  its  devisings, 
that  by  a  quick  process,  less  logical  than 
pleasing,  I  satisfied  myself  that  the  lovely 
Lady  Jane  Callonby  was  actually  in  love, 
with  whom  let  the  reader  guess  at.  And 
Lord  Callonby  too,  about  to  join  the  Min- 
istry— well,  all  the  better  to  have  one's 
father-in-law  in  power — promotion  is  so 
cursed  slow  nowadays.  And  lastly,  the 
sly  allusions  to  the  commissions  —  the 
malice  of  introducing  her  name  to  interest 
me.  With  such  materials  as  these  to  build 
upon,  frail  as  they  may  seem  to  others,  I 
found  no  difficulty  in  regarding  myself  as 
the  dear  friend  of  the  family,  and  the  ac- 
knowledged suitor  of  Lady  Jane. 

In  the  midst,  however,  of  all  my  sclf- 
gratulation,  my  eye  fell  upon  the  letter  of 
Emily  Bingham,  and  I  suddenly  remem- 
bered how  fatal  to  all  such  happy  antici- 
pations it  might  prove.  I  tore  it  open  in 
passionate  haste  and  read: — 

"My  dear  Mr.  Lorrequer, — As  from 
the  interview  we  have  had  this  morning  I 
am  inclined  to  believe  that  I  have  gained 
your  affections,  I  think  that  I  should  ill 
requite  such  a  state  of  your  feeling  for  me, 
Were  I  to  conceal  that  I  cannot  return  you 
mine — in  fact,  that  they  arc  not  mine  to 
bestow.  This  frank  avowal,  whatever  pain 
it  may  have  cost  me,  I  think  I  owe  to  you 
to  make.  You  will  perhaps  say,  the  con- 
fession should  have  been  earlier  ;  to  which 
I  reply,  it  should  have  been  so,  had  1 
known,  or  even  guessed  at  the  nature  of 


your  feelings  for  me.  For — and  I  write  it 
in  all  truth,  and  perfect  respect  for  you— 
I  only  saw  in  your  attentions  the  flirting 
habits  of  a  man  of  the  world,  with  a  very 
unformed  and  ignorant  girl  of  eighteen, 
with  whom,  as  it  was  his  amusement  to 
travel,  he  deemed  it  worth  his  while  to  talk, 
I  now  see,  and  bitterly  regret,  my  error, 
yet  deem  it  better  to  make  this  painful 
confession  than  suffer  you  to  remain  in  a 
delusion  which  may  involve  your  happi- 
ness in  the  wreck  of  mine.  I  am  most 
faithfully  your  friend, 

"  Emily  Bingham." 

"  What  a  charming  girl  she  is  !  "  I  cried, 
as  I  finished  the  letter  ;  "  how  full  of  true 
feeling,  how  honorable,  how  straightfor- 
ward !  and  yet  it  is  devilish  strange  how 
cunningly  she  played  her  part— and  it  seems 
now  that  I  never  did  touch  her  affections  ; 
Master  Harry,  I  begin  to  fear  you  are 
not  altogether  the  awful  lady-killer  you 
have  been  thinking."  Thus  did  I  medi- 
tate upon  this  singular  note — my  delight 
at  being  once  more  "free"  mingling  with 
some  chagrin  that  I  was  jockeyed,  and  by 
a  young  miss  of  eighteen  too.  "  Confound- 
edly disagreeable  if  the  mess  knew  it," 
thought  I.  "  Per  Bacco  !  how  they  would 
quiz  upon  my  difficulty  -to  break  off  a 
match,  Avhen  the  lady  was  only  anxious  to 
get  rid  of  we. 

"  This  affair  must  never  come  to  their 
ears,  or  I  am  ruined  ;  and  now,  the  sooner 
all  negotiations  are  concluded  the  better. 
I  must  obtain  a  meeting  with  Emily,  ac- 
knowledge the  truth  and  justice  of  all  her 
views,  express  my  deep  regret  at  the  issue 
of  the  affair,  slily  hint  that  I  have  been 
merely  playing  her  own  game  back  upon 
her  ;  for  it  would  be  the  devil  to  let  her 
go  off  with  the  idea  that  she  had  singed 
me,  yet  never  caught  fire  herself  ;  so  that 
we  both  shall  draw  stakes,  and  part 
friends." 

This  valiant  resolution  taken,  I  wrote  a 
very  short  note,  begging  an  interviews  and 
proceeded  to  make  as  formidable  a  toilet  as 
I  could  for  the  forthcoming  meeting;  be- 
fore I  had  concluded  which,  a  verbal  an- 
swer by  her  maid  informed  me,  that  "  Miss 
Bingham  was  alone  and  ready  to  receive 
me." 

As  I  took  my  way  along  the  corridor,  I 
could  not  help  feeling  that  among  all  my 
singular  scrapes  and  embarrassing  situa- 
tions through  life,  my  present  mission  was 
certainly  not  the  least— the  difficulty,  such 
as  it  was,  being  considerably  increased  by 
my  own  confounded  amour  proprc,  that 
would  not  leave  me  satisfied  writh  obtain- 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


181 


iirg  my  liberty,  if  I  could  not  insist  npon 
coining  off  scathless  also.  En  fact,  I  was 
not  content  to  evacuate  bhe  fortress,  if  1 
were  not  to  march  out  with  all  the  honors 
of  war.  This  feeling  I  neither  attempt  to 
palliate  nor  defend,  I  merely  chronicle  it 
as  are  too  many  of  these  Confessions,  a 
matter  of  truth,  yet  not  the  less  a  subject 
for  sorrow. 

My  band  was  upon  the  lock  of  the  door. 
I  stopped,  hesitated,  and  listened.  1  cer- 
tainly heard  something.  Yes,  it  is  too  true 
—she  is  sobbing.  What  a  total  overthrow 
of  all  my  selfish  resolves,  all  my  egotistical 
plans,  did  that  slight  cadence  give.  She 
was  crying — her  tears  for  the  bitter  pain 
she  concluded  I  was  suffering  mingling 
doubtless  with  sorrow  for  her  own  sources 
of  grief— for  it  was  clear  to  me  that  who- 
ever may  have  been  my  favored  rival,  the 
attachment  was  either  unknown  to  or  un- 
sanctioned  by  the  mother.  I  wished  I  had  ( 
not  listened';  all  my  determinations  were 
completely  routed,  and  as  I  opened  the 
door  I  felt  my  heart  beating  almost  audi- 
bly against  my  side. 

In  a  subdued  half-light  —  tempered 
through  the  rose-colored  curtains,  with  a 
small  china  cup  of  newly-plucked  moss- 
roses  upon  the  table — sat,  or  rather  leaned. 
Emily  Bingham,  her  face  buried  in  her 
hands  as  I  entered.  She  did  not  hear  my 
approach,  so  that  I  had  above  a  minute  to 
admire  the  graceful  character  of  her  head, 
and  the  fine  undulating  curve  of  her  neck 
and  shoulders,  before  I  spoke. 

"  Miss  Bingham,''  said  I 

She"  started — looked  up — her  dark  blue 
eyes,  brilliant  though  tearful,  were  fixed 
.upon  me  for  a  second,  as  if  searching  my 
very  inmost  thoughts.  She  held  out  her 
hand,  and  turning  her  head  aside,  made 
room  for  me  on  the  sofa  beside  her. 
"Strange  girl,"  thought  I,  "that  in  the 
very  moment  of  breaking  with  a  man  for 
ever,  puts  on  her  most  fascinating  toilet, 
arrays  herself  in  her  most  bewitching  man- 
ner, and  gives  him  a  reception  only  calcu- 
lated to  turn  his  head,  and  render  him  ten 
times  more  in  love  than  ever."  Her  hand, 
which  remained  still  in  mine,  was  burning 
as  if  in  fever,  and  the  heaving  movement 
of  her  neck  and  shoulders  showed  me  how 
much  this  meeting  cost  her.  We  were  both 
silent,  till  at  length,  feeling  that  any 
chance  interruption  might  leave  us  as  far 
as  ever  from  understanding  each  other,  I 
resolved  to  begin. 

"My  dear,  dear  Emily,"  I  said,  "  do  not, 
I  entreat  of  you,  add  to  the  misery  I  am 
this  moment  enduring  by  letting  me  see 
you  thus.     Whatever  your  wrongs  toward 


this  is  Ear  too  heavy  a  retribution.  My 
objeel  was  never  to  make  you  wretched; 
if  1  am  not  bo  obtain  rive  and 

make  you  happy " 

"  oil  :  Harry"— this  was  the  6rsi   time 
3he  had  everso  called  me     "  I 
to  think  of  un — of  m 
if  1   w  as   nol    t  he  i  .  our  present 

unhappim  3S  but  nol  wilfully,  nol  inten- 
tionally. Oh,  no,  no — your  attentions — 
the  flattery  of  your  nut  ice,  took  me  at 
once,  and,  in  the  gratification  of  my  - 
esteem,  I  forgo!  all  else.  I  heard,  too,  that 
you  were  engaged  to  another,  and  believ- 
ing, as  I  did,  that  you  were  trifling  with 
my  affections,  I  spared  no  efl  win 

yours.     I  confess  it,  1  wished  this  with  all 
my  soul." 

"And  now,"  said  I,  "that  you  have 
gained  them** — here  was  a  prett}  sequel 
to  my  well  matured  plans! — "and  now, 
Emily " 

•  But  have  I  really  done  so  ?"  said  she, 
hurriedly  turning  round  and  fixing  her 
large  full  eyes  upon  me,  while  one  of  her 
hands  played  carelessly  through  my  hair— 
'•have  I  your  heart  ?  your  whole  heart  ?" 

"Can  you  doubt  it,  dearest  ':  "  said  I, 
passionately  pressing  her  to  my  bosom, 
and  at  the  same  time  muttering,  "What 
the  devil's  in  the  wind  now  :  we  are  sore- 
ly not  going  to  patch  up  our  separation, 
and  make  love  in  earnest  ?  " 

There  she  lay.  her  head  upon  my  shoul- 
der, her  long,  brown,  waving  ringlets  fall- 
ing loosely  across  my  face  and  on  my 
bosom,  her  hand  in  mine.  What  were 
her  thoughts  1  cannot  guess  ;  mine— -God 
forgive  me  ! — were  a  fervent  wish  either 
for  her  mother's  appearance,  or  that  the 
hotel  would  suddenly  take  fire,  or  some 
other  extensive  calamity  arise  to  put  the 
finishing  stroke  to  this  embarrassing  situ- 
ation. 

None  of  these,  however,  were  destined 
to  occur  :  and  Emily  lay  still  and  motion- 
less as  she  was,  scarce  seeming  to  breathe, 
and  pale  as  death..  --What  can  this 
mean?"  said  I;  "surely  this  is  not  the 
usual  way  to  pari  with  a  rejected  suii 
if  it  be,  why  then,  by  Jupiter,  the  sin- 
ful one  must  have  rather  the  worst  of  it— 
and  I  fervently  hope  that  Lady  Jane  be 
not  at  this  moment  giving  her  conge  u> 
some  disappointed  swain."  She  slowly 
raised  her  large.  bla<  k-fringed  eyelids,  and 
looked  into  my  face  with  an  expression  at 
once  so  tender  and  so  plaintive,  that  I  felt 
a  struggle  within  myself  whether  to  press 
her  to  mv  heart,  or — —what  the  deuce 
was  the  alternative  ?— I  hope  my  reader 
knows,  for  I  really  do  not  !     "And  after 


182 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


all,"  thought  I,  "if  wo  are  to  many,  I  am 
only  anticipating  a  little  ;  and  if  not,  why 
then  ,1  'chaste  salute' as  Winifred  Jenkins 
calls  it,  she'll  .be  none  the  worse  for." 
Acting  at  once  upon  this  resolve,  I  leaned 
downwards,  and  was  passing  back  her 
ringlets  from  her  now  unshed  check, 
when  I  was  startled  by  my  name,  which 
I  heard  called  several  times  in  the  corri- 
dor. The  door  at  the  same  instant  was 
burst  suddenly  open,  and  Trevanion  ap- 
peared, 

"Harry,  Harry  .Lorrequer,"  cried  he,  as 
he  entered  ;  then  suddenly  checking  him- 
self, added,  "a  thousand,  ten  thousand 
pardons,  but " 

"But  what,"  cried  I,  passionately,  for- 
getting all  save  the  situation  of  poor 
Emily  at  the  moment — "What  can  jus- 
tify  " 

"  Nothing  certainly  can  justify  such'  an 
intrusion,"  said  Trevanion,  finishing  my 
sentence  for  me,  "except  the  very  near 
danger  you  run  this  moment  in  being 
arrested.  O'Leary's  imprudence  has  com- 
promised your  safety,  and  you  must  leave 
Paris  within  an  hour."' 

"Oh,  Mr.  Trevanion,"  said  Emily,  who 
by  this  time  had  regained  a  more  befitting 
attitude,  "pray  speak  out  ;  what  is  it  ?  is 
Harry — is  Mr.  Lorrequer,  I  mean — in  any 
danger  ?  " 

"  Nothing  of  consequence,  Miss  Bing- 
ham, if  he  only  act  with  prudence  and  be 
guided  by  his  friends.  Lorrequer,  you 
will  find  me  in  your  apartments  in  half  an 
hour — till  then  adieu." 

While  Emily  poured  forth  question  after 
question  as  to  the  nature  and  extent  of 
my  present  difficulty,  I  could  not  help 
thinking  of  the  tact  by  which  Trevanion 
escaped,  leaving  me  to  make  my  adieux  to 
Emily  as  best  I  might — for  I  saw  in  a 
glance  that  I  must  leave  Paris  at  once.  I, 
therefore,  briefly  gave  her  to  understand 
the  affair  at  the  salon — which  I  suspected 
to  be  the  cause  of  the  threatened  arrest — ■ 
and  was  about  to  profess  my  unaltered 
and  unalterable  attachment,  when  she 
suddenly  stopped  me. 

"  No,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  no.  All  is  over 
between  us.  We  must  never  meet  again — 
never.  We  have  been  both,  playing  a  part. 
Good-by — good-by  :  do  not  altogether  for- 
get me — and  once  more,  Harry,  good- 
by." 

What  I  might  have  said,  thought,  or 
done,  I  know  not  ;  but  the  arrival  of  Mrs. 
Bingham's  carriage  at  the  door  left  no 
time  for  anything  but  escape.  So,  once 
more  pressing  her  hand  firmly  to  my  lips, 
I  said-r-"  yLt  revoir,  Emily,  au  revoir,  not 


good-by/'  and    rushing    from    the  room, 

regained  my  room  just  as  Mrs,  Bingham 
reached  the  corridor. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 


MR.    O  LEARY  S   CAPTURE. 


"  Does  she  really  care  for  me  ?  "  was  my 
first  question  to  myself  as  I  left  the  room. 
"  Is  this  story  about  pre-engaged  affections 
merely  a  got-up  thing,  to  try  the  force  of 
my  attachment  for  her  ?  for,  it'  not,  her 
conduct  is  most  inexplicable  ;  and  great  as 
my  experience  has  been  in  such  affairs,  I 
avow  myself  out-maneuvered."  While  I 
thought  over  this  difficulty,  Trevanion 
came  up,  and  in  a  few  words  informed  me 
more  fully  upon  what  he  hinted  at  before. 
It  appeared  that  O'Leary,  much  more  alive 
to  the  imperative  necessity  of  avoiding  de- 
tection by  his  wife,  than  of  involving  him- 
self with  the  police,  had  thrown  out  most 
dark  and  mysterious  hints  in  the  hotel  as 
to  the  reason  of  his  residence  at  Paris, 
fully  impressed  with  the  idea  that,  to  be  a 
good  Pole,  he  need  only  talk  "revolution- 
ary ;"  devote  to  the  powers  below  all  kings, 
czars,  and  kaisers  ;  weep  over  the  wrongs 
of  his  nation  ;  wear  rather  seedy  habili- 
ments, and  smoke  profusely.  The  latter 
were  with  him  easy  conditions,  and  he  so 
completely  acted  the  former  to  the  life, 
that  he  had  been  that  morning  arrested  in 
the  Tuileries  gardens,  under  several  trea- 
sonable charges — among  others,  the  con- 
spiracy, with  some  of  his  compatriots,  to 
murder  the  minister  of  war. 

However  laughable  such  an  accusation 
against  poor  O'Leary,  one  circumstance 
rendered  the  matter  anything  but  ludi- 
crous. Although  he  must  come  off  free 
of  this  grave  offense,  yet  as  the  salon 
transaction  would  necessarily  now  become 
known,  I  should  be  immediately  involved, 
and  my  departure  from  Paris  prevented. 

"So,"  said  Trevanion,  as  he  briefly  laid 
before  me  the  difficulty  of  my  position, 
"you  may  perceive  that  however  strongly 
your  affections  may  be  engaged  in  a  certain 
quarter,  it  is  quite  as  well  to  think  of 
leaving  Paris  without  delay.  O'Leary's 
arrest  will  be  followed  by  yours,  depend 
upon  it,  and  once  under  the  surveillance 
of  the  police,  escape  is  impossible." 

"  But,  seriously,  Trevanion,"  said  I,  net- 
tled at  the  tone  of  raillery  he  spoke  in, 
"you  must  sec  that  there  is  nothing  what- 
ever in  that  business.  I  was  merely  taking 
my  farewell  of  the  fair  Emily.     Her  affee- 


HA RR  Y  L  ORREQ  UER. 


183 


tions  have  been  long   since  engaged,  and 


"  Onlv  endeavoring  fco  Bupport  her  in  her 

attach  incut,  to  the  more  favored  rival.  Is 
it  not  so  ?" 

"Come,  no  quizzing.  Faith,  I  began 
to  feel  very  uncomfortable  about  parting 
with  her,  the  moment  that  1  discovered 
that  I  must  do  so." 

"So,  i  guessed,"  said  Trevanion,  with  a 
dry  look,  "  from  the  interesting  scene  1  so 
abruptly  trespassed  upon.  But  you  are 
right;  a  little  hit  of  tenderness  is  never 
misplaced,  so  long  as  the  object  is  young, 
pretty,  and  still  more  than  all,  disposed  for 
it." 

"  Quite  out  ;  perfectly  mistaken,  believe 
me.  Emily  not  only  never  cared  for  me, 
but  she  has  gone  far  enough  to  tell  me  so." 

"Then,  from  all  I  know  of  such  mat- 
ters," replied  he.  "  you  were  both  in  a  very 
fair  way  to  repair  that  mistake  on  her  part. 
But  hark  !  what  is  this  ?  "  A  tremendous 
noise  in  the  street  here  interrupted  our 
colloquy,  and  on  opening  the  window,  a 
strange  scene  presented  itself  to  our  eyes. 
In  the  middle  of  a  dense  mass  of  moving 
rabble,  shouting,  yelling,  and  screaming 
with  all  their  might,  were  two  gendarmes 
with  a  prisoner  between  them.  The  un- 
happy man  was  followed  by  a  rather  over- 
dressed, middle-aged  looking  woman,  who 
appeared  to  be  desirous  of  bestowing  the 
most  coram  publico  endearments  upon  the 
culprit,  whom  a  second  glance  showed  us 
was  O'Leary. 

"I  tell  you,  my  dear  madam,  you  are 
mistaken."'  said  O'Leary,  addressing  her 
with  great  sternness  of  manner  and  voice. 

"  Mistaken  !  never,  never.  How  could 
I  ever  be  mistaken  in  that  dear  voice,  those 
lovely  eyes,  that  sweet  little  nose  ?" 

" Take  her  away  ;  she's  deranged,"  said 
O'Leary  to  the  gendarmes.  "  Sure,  if  I'm 
a  Pole,  that's  enough  of  misfortune." 

"  I'll  follow  him  to  the  end  of  the  earth, 
I  will." 

"I'm  going  to  the  galleys,  God  be 
praised  !  "  said  O'Leary. 

'•'  To  the  galleys — to  the  guillotine — 
anywhere,"  responded  she,  throwing  her- 
self upon  his  neck,  much  less,  as  it  seemed, 
to  his  gratification,  than  that  of  the  mob, 
who  laughed  and  shouted  most  uproar- 
iously. 

•k  Mrs.  Ram,  ain't  you  ashamed?" 

"  He  calls  me  by  my  name."  said  she, 
"  and  he  attempts  to  disown  me.  Ha  ! 
ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  "  and  immediately  fell  off 
into  a  strong  paroxysm  of  kicking,  and 
pinching,  and  punching  the  bystander-,  a 
malady    well-kno xvn  under    the    name  of 


hysterics;    but   being   Utile  more   than  a 
privileged  mode,  among  1 1  rtain  ladii 

paying  off    < scores,    winch    it    i- 

thoughl  decent  to  do  in  their  more  Bober 
momeni  -. 

"Lead  me  away  —  anywhere  —  convict 
me  of  what  you  like,"  said  he,  "  but  don't 
lei  her  follow  me." 

The  gendarmes,  who  little  comprehended 
i  he  nal  are  of  I  he  scene  befon  i  hem,  were 
not  Borrj  to  anticipate  a  renewal  of  H  on 
Mrs.  Ram's  recovery,  and  accordingly 
seized  the  opportunity  to  march  on  with 
O'Leary,  who  turned  the  comer  of  the  Rue 
Rivoli,  under  a  shower  of  execrations  from 
the  mob,  that  fell  fortunately  mosl  uncon- 
sciously upon  his  cars. 

The   possibility   of    figuring    in    such    a 
procession  contributed  much  t<>  the  force 
of  Trevanion's  reasonings,  and    . 
to  leave  Paris  at  once. 

"Promise  me,  then,  to  involve  yourself 
in  no  more  scrapes  for  half-an-hour.  Pack 
everything  you  may  wain  with  you,  and. 
by  seven  o'clock,  1  Will  be  here  with  your 
passport  and  all  ready  for  a  Start." 

With  a  beating  brain,  am!  in  a  whirl- 
wind of  conflicting  thoughts,  1  threw  my 
clothes  hither  and  thither  into  my  trunk  ; 
Lady  Jane  and  Emily  both  flitting  every 
instant  before  my  imagination,  and  fre- 
quently an  irresolution  to  proceed  stop- 
ping all  my  preparations  for  departure,  1 
sat  down  musing  upon  a  chair,  and  half 
determined  to  stay  where  1  was,  come  what 
might  of  it.  Finally,  the  possibility  of 
exposure  in  a  trial  had  its  weight.  1  con- 
tinued my  occupation  till  the  las!  coat  was 
folded,  ami  the  lock  turned,  when  1  seated 
myself  opposite  my  luggage,  and  waited 
impatiently  for  my  friends  return. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 


THE  JOURXEY. 


Trevanion  came  at  last.  He  had  ob- 
tained my  passport,  and  engaged  a  car- 
riage to  convey  me  about  eight  miles, 
where  I  should  overtake  the  diligence — 
such  a  mode  of  traveling  being  judged 
more  likely  to  favor  my  escape,  by  attract- 
ing less  attention  than  posting.  It  was 
pasi  ten  when  1  left  the  Rue  St.  Honore, 
having  shaken  hands  with  Trevanion  for 
the  last  time,  and  charged  him  with  ten 
thousand  soft  messag  s  for  the  "friends" 
I  left  behind  me. 

When  I  arrived  at  the  village  of  St.  Jac- 
ques,  the  diligence  laid  not  come  up.     To 


184 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


pass  away  the  time,  I  ordered  a  little  sup- 
per and  a  bottle  of  St.  J  alien.  Scarcely 
had  I  seated  myself  to  my  cutlet,  when  the 
rapid  whirl  of  "wheel. s  was  heard  without, 
and  a  cab  drew  up  suddenly  at  the  door. 
So  naturally  does  the  fugitive  suspect  pur- 
suit, that  my  immediate  impression  was, 
that  I  was  followed.  In  this  notion  I  was 
strengthened  by  the  tones  of  a  cracked, 
discordant  voice,  asking  in  very  peculiar 
French  if  the  "diligence  had  passed  ?" 
Being  answered  in  the  negative,  he  walked 
into  the  room  where  I  was,  and  speedily, 
by  his  appearance,  removed  any  apprehen- 
sions I  had  felt  as  to  my  safety.  Nothing- 
could  less  resemble  the  tall  port  and  stur- 
dy bearing  of  a  gendarme,  than  the  dimi- 
nutive and  dwarfish  individual  before  me. 
His  height  could  scarcely  have  reached 
five  feet,  of  Avhich  the  head  formed  fully  a 
fourth  part ;  and  even  this  was  rendered 
in  appearance  still  greater  by  a  mass  of 
loosely  floating  black  hair  that  fell  upon 
his  neck  and  shoulders,  and  gave  him 
much  the  air  of  a  "  black  lion  "  on  a  sign- 
board. His  black  frock — fur-collared  and 
braided — -his  ill-made  boots,  his  meer- 
schaum projecting  from  his  breast-pocket, 
above  all,  his  unwashed  hands,  and  a  heavy 
gold  ring  upon  his  thumb — all  made  an  en- 
semble of  evidences  that  showed  he  could 
be  nothing  but  a  German.  His  manner 
was  bustling,  impatient,  and  had  it  not 
been  ludicrous,  would  certainly  be  consid- 
ered as  insolent  to  every  one  about  him,  for 
he  stared  each  person  abruptly- in  the  face, 
and  mumbled  some  broken  expressions  of 
his  opinion  of  them  half-aloud  in  German. 
His  comments  ran  on  : — "Bon  soir,  Mon- 
sieur," to  the  host ;  "  ein  Bosewicht,  ganz 
sicher" — "a  scoundrel  without  doubt;" 
and  then  added,  still  lower,  "Bob  you 
here  as  soon  as  look  at  you."  "Ah,  pos- 
tilion !  comment  va  ?" — "  much  more  like 
a  brigand  after  all — I  know  which  I'd  take 
you  for."  "  Verfluchte  Frail  "  —  "  how- 
ugly  the  woman  is."  This  compliment 
was  intended  for  the  hostess,  who  curt- 
seyed down  to  the  ground  m  her  igno- 
rance. At  last,  approaching  me,  he  stop- 
ped, and  having  steadily  surveyed  me, 
muttered,  "Ein  echter  Englander  " — "a 
thorough  Englishman,  always  eating. "  I 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  assure 
him  that  1  was  perfectly  aware  of  his  flat- 
tering impression  in  my  behalf,  though  I 
had  speedily  to  regret  my  precipitancy, 
for,  less  mindful  of  the  rebuke  than  pleased 
at  finding  some  one  wdio  understood  Ger- 
man, he  drew  his  chair  beside  me  and 
entered  into  conversation. 

Every  one  has  surely  felt,  some  time  or 


other  in  life,  the  insufferable  annoyance  of 
having  his  thoughts  and  reflections  inter- 
fered with,  and  broken  in  upon  by  the  vul- 
gar impertinence  and  egotism  of  some 
"bore,"  who,  mistaking  your  abstraction 
for  attention,  and  yourdespair  for  delight, 
inflicts  upon  you  his  whole  life  and  adven- 
tures, when  your  own  immediate  destinies 
are  perhaps  vacillating  in  the  scale. 

Such  a  doom  was  now  mine  !  Occupied 
as  I  was  by  the  hope  of  the  future  and  my 
fears  lest  any  impediment  to  my  escape 
should  blast  my  prospects  for  ever,  1  pre- 
ferred appearing  to  pay  attention  to  this 
confounded  fellow's  "  personal  narrative," 
lest  his  questions,  turning  on  my  own  af- 
fairs, might  excite  suspicions  as  to  the 
reasons  of  my  journey. 

I  longed  most  ardently  for  the  arival  of 
the  diligence,  trusting  that  with  true  Ger- 
man thrift,  my  friend  might  prefer  the 
cheapness  of  the  interieuv  to  the  magnif- 
icence of  the  coupe,  and  that  thus  I  should 
see  no  more  of  him.  But  in  this  pleasing 
hope  I  was  destined  to  be  disappointed,  for 
I  was  scarcely  seated  in  my  place  when  I 
found  him  beside  me.  The  third  occupant 
of  this  "privileged  den."  as  well  as  my 
lamp-light  survey  of  him  permitted,  afford- 
ed nothing  to  build  on  as  a  compensation 
for  the  German.  He  was  a  tall,  lanky, 
lantern-jawed  man,  with  a  hook  nose  and 
projecting  chin  ;  his  hair,  which  had  only 
been  permitted  to  grow  very  lately,  formed 
that  curve  upon  his  forehead  we  see  in  cer- 
tain old-fashioned  horse-shoe  wigs  ;  his 
compressed  lip  and  hard  features  gave  the 
expression  of  one  who  had  seen  a  good  deal 
of  the  world,  and  didn't  think  the  better  of 
it  in  consequence.  I  observed  that  he  lis- 
tened to  the  few  words  we  spoke  while  get- 
ting in  with  some  attention,  and  then,  like 
a  person  ivho  did  not  comprehend  the  lan- 
guage, turned  his  shoulder  toward  us,  and 
soon  fell  asleep.  I  was  now  left  to  the 
"  tender  mercies  "  of  my  talkative  compan- 
ion, who  certainly  spared  me  not.  Not- 
withstanding  my  vigorous  resolves  to  turn 
a  deaf  ear  to  his  narratives,  I-  could  not 
avoid  learning  that  he  was  the  director  of 
music  to  some  German  prince — that  he  had 
been  to  Paris  to  bring  out  an  opera  which, 
having,  as  he  said,  an  "  immense  success  ! " 
he  Avas  about  to  repeat  in  Strasbourg.  He 
further  informed  me  that  a  dcjnife  irom 
Alsace  had  obtained  for  him  a  government 
permission  to  travel  with  the  courier  ;  but 
that  he,  being  "social"  withal,  and  no- 
ways proud,  preferred  the  democracy  of  the 
diligence  to  the  solitary  grandeur  of  the 
caleche  (for  which  Heaven  confound  him), 
and  thus  became  my  present  companion. 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


1S5 


Music  in  all  its  shapes  and  forms  made 
up  the  staple  of  the  little  man's  talk. 
There  was  scarcely  an  opera  or  an  over- 
ture, from  Mozart  to  Donizetti,  that  hedid 
not  insist  upon  Binging  a  scene  from  ;  and 
wound  up  all  by  a  very  pathetic  lamenta- 
tion over  English  insensibility  to  music, 
which  lie  in  great  part  attributed  to  our 
having  only  one  opera,  which  he  kindly 
informed  me  was  "  Bob  et  Joan."  J  low- 
ever  indisposed  to  cheek  the  current  of  his 
loquacity  by  any  effort  of  mine,  1  could 
not  avoid  the  temptation  to  translate  for 
him  a  story  which  Sir  Walter  Scott  once 
related  to  me,  and  was"  so  far  a  propos,  as 
conveying  my  own  sense  of  the  merits  of 
our  national  music,  such  as  we  have  it,  by 
its  associations  with  scenes,  and  persons, 
and  places  we  are  all  familiar  with,  how- 
ever unintelligible  to  the  ear  of  a  stran- 
ger. 

A  young  French  vicomte  was  fortunate 
enough  to  obtain  in  marriage  the  hand  of 
a  singularly  pretty  Scotch  heiress  of  an 
ancient  family  and  good  fortune,  who, 
amongst  her  other  endowments,  possessed 
a  large  old-fashioned  house  in  a  remote 
district  of  the  Highlands,  where  her  ances- 
tors had  resided  for  centuries.  Thither 
the  young  couple  repaired  to  pass  the 
honeymoon  ;  the  enamoured  bridegroom 
gladly  availing  himself  of  the  opportunity 
to  ingratiate  himself  with  Ids  new  connec- 
tion, by  adopting  the  seclusion  he  saw  prac- 
ticed by  the  English  on  such  occasions. 
However  consonant  to  our  notions  of  hap- 
piness, and  however  conducive  to  our 
enjoyment  tins  custom  be — and  I  have 
strong  doubts  upon  the  subject — it  cer- 
tainly prospered  ill  with  the  volatile 
Frenchman,  who  pined  for  Paris,  its 
cafes,  its  boulevards,  its  maisons  de  jeu, 
and  its  soirees.  His  days  were  passed 
in  looking  from  the  deep  and  narrow 
windows  of  some  oak-framed  room  upon 
the  bare  and  heath-clad  moors,  or  watch- 
ing the  cloud  shadows  as  they  passed 
across  the  dark  pine-trees  that  closed  the 
distance.   ' 

Bored  to  death,  and  convinced  that  he 
had  sacrificed  enough  and  more  than 
enough,  to  the  barbarism  which  demanded 
such  a  scjoiir,  he  was  sitting  one  evening 
listlessly  upon  the  terrace  in  front  of  the 
house,  plotting  a  speedy  escape  from  his 
gloomy  abode,  and  meditating  upon  the 
life  of  pleasure  .that  awaited  him,  when 
the  discordant  twang  of  some  savage  music 
broke  upon  his  ear,  and  roused  him  from 
his  reverie.  The  wild  scream  and  fitful 
burst  of  a  Highland  pibroch  is  certainly 
not  the  most  likely  thing  in  nature  to  allay 


i  in-  irritable  and  ruffled  f<  i  1  n  iras- 

cible person  —  unless,  perhaps, 
i  -<•:,.■,<,  breeches.  So  thoughl  I  lie  \  icomte. 
I  le  started  hurriedly  up,  and  si  raighi  be- 
fore him,  up  the  gravel  walk,  bi  In  Id  the 
staiwarl  figure  and  bony  frame  of  an  old 
Highlander,  blowing,  with  all  his  lungs, 
i  he  "  Gal  herii  Wil 

I  he  speed    he  could  d  into 

the  house,  and.  calling  his  servants,  ord<  r- 
ed  them  to  expel  the  intruder,  and  drive 
him  at  once  outside  the  demesne.  When 
the  mandate  was  made  known  to  the  old 
piper,  it  was  with  the  greatesl  difficulty  he 
could  be  broughl  to  compr<  hend  it — for, 
time  out  of  mind,  his  approach  had 
hailed  with  every  demonstration  of  rejoic- 
ing; and  now but  no;  the 

impossible — there  must  be  a  mistake  some- 
where. He  was  accordingly  about  to  re- 
commence, when  a  second  and  si 
hint  suggested  to  him  thi 
depart.  "  Maybe  the  'carl '  didna  like  the 
pipes,'1  said  the  Highlander,  musingly,  as 
he  packed  them  up  for  his  march.  '•  .May- 
be he  didna  like  me;  perhaps,  too,  he  was 
na  in  the  humor  for  music,''  he  paused  for 
an  instant  as  if  reflecting — not 
probably,  that  he  had  hit  upon  the  true 
solution — when  suddenly  his  eye  l>r_ 
ed,  his  lips  curled,  and  fixing  a  look  upon 
the  angry  Frenchman,  he  said — "Maybe 
ye  are  right  enow — ye  heard  them  ower 
muckle  in  Waterloo  to  like  the  skirl  o'  them 
ever  since;"  with  which  satisfactory  ex- 
planation, made  in  no  spirit  of  bitterness 
or  raillery,  but  in  the  simple  belief  that  he 
had  hit  the  mark  of  the  vicomte's  antipa- 
thy, the  old  man  gathered  up  his  plaid  and 
departed. 

However  disposed  I  might  have  felt 
toward  sleep,  the  little  German  resolved  I 
should  not  obtain  any,  for  when  half  an 
hour  together  I  would  preserve  a  rigid  si- 
lence, he,  nowise  daunted,  had  r 
some  German  "  Lied,"  which  he  gave  forth 
with  an  energy  of  voice  and  manner  that 
must  have  aroused  every  sleeper  in  tin 
igence  ;  so  that,  fain  to  avoid  this,  1  did 
my  best  to  keep  him  on  the  subject  of  his 
adventures,  which,  as  a  man  of 
gallantry,  were  manifold  indeed.  Weary- 
ing at  last,  even  of  this  subordinate 
part,  I  fell  into  a  kind  of  halt'  doze,  the 
words  of  a  student  song  he  continued  to 
sing  without  ceasing  for  above  an  hour 
being  the  last  waking  thought  on  my 
memory. 

Less' as  a  souvenir  of  the  singer  than  a 
specimen  of  its  class  I  give  here  a  rough 
translation  of  the  well-known  Burschea 
melody  called  : — 


38G 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


THE  POPE. 


The  Pope  he  leads  a  happy  life, 
He  fears  not  married  care,  nor  strife, 
He  drinks  the  host  of  Rhenish  wine — 
I  would  the  Pope's  gay  lot  were  mine. 


He  drinks  the  best  of  Rhenish  wine — 
1  would  the  Pope's  gay  lot  were  mine. 


But  then  all  nappy's  not  his  life. 
He  has  not  maid,  nor  blooming  wife 
Nor  child  has  he  to  raise  his  hope — 
I  would  not  wish  to  be  the  Pope. 


The  Sultan  better  pleases  me, 

His  is  a  life  of  jollity  ; 

His  wives  are  many  as  he  will — 

1  would  the  Sultan's  throne  then  fill. 


But  even  he's  a  wretched  man, 

He  must  obey  his  Alcoran  ; 

And  dares  not  drink  one  drop  of  wine- 

1  would  not  chancre  his  lot  for  mine. 


So  then  I'll  hold  my  lowly  stand, 
And  live  in  German  Vaterland  ; 
I'll  kiss  my  maiden  fair  and  fine. 
And  drink  the  best  of  Rhenish  wine. 


Whene'er  my  maiden  kisses  me, 
I'll  think  that  I  the  Sultan  be  ; 
And  when  my  cheery  glass  1  tope, 
I'll  fancy  then  1  am  the  Pope. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 


THE  JOURNEY. 


It  was  with  a  feeling  of  pleasure  I  can- 
not explain  that  I  awoke  in  the  morning 
and  found  myself  upon  the  road.  The  tur- 
moil, the  bustle,  the  never-ending  difficul- 
ties of  my  late  life  in  Paris,  had  so  over- 
excited and  worried  me,  that  I  could 
neither  think  nor  reflect.  Now,  all  these 
cares  and  troubles  were  behind  me,  and  I 
felt  like  a  liberated  prisoner  as  I  looked 
upon  the  gray  dawn  of  the  coming  day,  as 
it  gradually  melted  from  its  dull  and  leaden 
tint  to  the  pink  and  yellow  hue  of  the  ris- 
ing sun.  The  bread  and  richly-colored 
plains  of  la  belle  France  were  before  me — 
and  it  is  la  belle  France,  however  inferior 
to  parts  of  England  in  rural  beauty — the 
large  tracts  of  waving  yellow  corn,  undu- 
lating like  a  sea  in  the  morning  breeze — 


the  interminable  reaches  of  forest,  upon 
which  the  shadows  played  and  flitted,  deep- 
ening the  effect  and  mellowing  the  mass, 
as  we  see  them  in  Ruysdael's  pictures — 
while  now  and  then  sonic  tall-gabled,  an- 
tiquated chateau  with  its  mutilated  ter- 
race and  dowager-like  air  of  bygone 
grandeur,  would  peep  forth  at  the  end  of 
some  long  avenue  of  lime-trees  all  having 
their  own  features  of  beauty — and  a  beauty 
with  which  every  object  around  harmon- 
izes well.  The  sluggish  peasant,  in  his 
blouse  and  striped  nightcap — the  heavily 
caparisoned  horse,  shaking  his  head  amidst 
a  Babel-tower  of  gaudy  worsted  tassels  and 
brass  bells — the  deeply  laden  wagon,  creep- 
ing slowly  along — are  all  in  keeping  with 
a  scene,  where  the  very  mist  that  rises 
from  the  valley  seems  indolent  and  lazy, 
and  unwilling  to  impart  the  rich  perfume 
of  verdure  with  which  it  is  loaded.  Every 
land  has  its  own  peculiar  character  of 
beauty.  The  glaciered  mountain,  the  Al- 
pine peak,  the  dashing  cataracts  of  Switz- 
erland and  the  Tyrol,  are  not  finer  in 
their  way  than  the  long  flat  moorlands  of 
a  Flemish  landscape,  with  its  clumpof 
stunted  willows  clustering  over  some  limpid 
brook,  in  which  the  oxen  are  standing 
for  shelter  from  the  noon-day  heat,  while, 
lower  down,  some  rude  water-wheel  is 
mingling  its  sounds  with  the  summer  bees 
and  the  merry  voices  of  the  miller  and  his 
companions.  So  strayed  my  thoughts  as 
the  German  shook  me  by  the  arm,  and 
asked  if  "  I  were  not  ready  for  my  break- 
fast ?"  Luckily  to  this  Cjuestion  there  is 
rarely  but  the  one  answer.  Who  is  not 
ready  for  his  breakfast  when  on  the  road  ? 
How  delightful,  if  on  the  Continent,  to 
escape  from  the  narrow  limits  of  the  dun- 
geon-like diligence,  where  you  sit  with 
your  knees  next  your  collar-bone,  fainting 
with  heat  and  suffocated  by  dust,  and  find- 
ing yourself  suddenly  beside  the  tempting 
plats  of  a  little  Erench  dejeuner,  with  its 
cutlets,  its  fried  fish,  its  /jo«^,  its  salad, 
and  its  little  entree  of  fruit,  tempered  with 
a  not  despicable  bottle  of  Beaune.  If  in 
England,  the  exchange  is  nearly  as  grate- 
ful ;  for  though  our  traveling  be  better, 
and  our  position  less  irksome,  still  it  is  no 
small  alternative  from  the  stage-coach  to 
the  inn  parlor,  redolent  of  aromatic  black- 
tea,  eggs,  and  hot  toast,  with  an  hospitable 
sideboard  of  lordly  sirloins,  and  York 
hams  that  would  make  a  Jew's  mouth 
water.  While,  in  America,  the  change  is 
greatest  of  all,  as  anyone  can  vouch  for 
who  has  been  suddenly  emancipated  from 
the  stove-heat  of  a  "nine-inside  "  leathern 
"  conveniency,"  bumping  ten  miles  an  hour 


II MIRY  LORREQUER. 


181 


over  a  corduroy  road,  the  company  smok- 
ing, if  not  worse  ;  to  the  ample  displaj  oi 
In  urious  viands  displayed  upon  the  break- 
fast-table, where,  "what  with  buffalo  Bteaks, 
pumpkin  pie,  "  chicken  fixings,"  and  oi  her 
aristocratically  called  temptal  ions,  he  must 
be  indeed  fastidious  who  cannot  emplo) 
his  half-hour.  Pity  it  is,  when  there  is  so 
much  good  to  eat,  that  people  will  not  par- 
take of  it  like  civilized  beings,  and  with 
that  air  of  cheerful  thankfulness  thai  all 
other  nations  more  or  less  express  when 
enjoying  the  earth's  bounties.  But  true 
it  is,  that  there  is  a  spirit  of  discontent  in 
the  Yankee,  that  seems  to  accept  of  bene- 
fits with  a  tone  of  dissatisfaction,  if  not 
distrust.  I  once  made  this  remark  to  an 
excellent  friend  of  mine,  now  no  more, 
who,  however,  would  not  permit  of  my  at- 
tributing this  feature  to  the  Americans  ex- 
clusively, adding,  "  Where  have  you  more 
of  this  than  in  Ireland;-'  and  surely  you 
would  not  cal  Ithe  Irish  ungrateful?"  He 
illustrated  his  first  remark  by  the  follow- 
ing short  anecdote: — 

The  rector  of  the  parish  my  friend  lived 
in.  was  a  man  who  added  to  the  income  he 
derived  from  his  living  a  very  handsome 
private  fortune,  which  he  devoted  entirely 
to  the  benefit  of  the  poor  around  him. 
Among  the  objects  of  his  bounty  one  old 
woman — a  childless  widow — was  remark- 
ably distinguished.  Whether  commiserat- 
ing her  utter  helplessness  or  her  complete 
isolation,  he  went  farther  to  relieve  her 
than  to  many,  if  not  all,  the  other  poor. 
She  frequently  was  in  the  habit  of  plead- 
ing her  poverty  as  a  reason  for  not  appear- 
ing in  church  among  her  neighbors  ;  and 
he  gladly  seized  an  opportunity  of  so  im- 
proving her  condition,  that,  on  this  score, 
at  least,  no  expediment  existed.  When  all 
his  little  plans  for  her  comfort  had  been 
carried  into  execution,  he  took  the  oppor- 
tunity one  day  of  dropping  in,  as  if  acci- 
dentally, to  speak  to  her.  By  degrees  he 
led  the  subject  to  her  changed  condition 
in  life — the  alteration  from  a  cold,  damp, 
smoky  hovel,  to  a  warm,  clean,  slated 
house — the  cheerful  garden  before  the  door 
that  replaced  the  mud-heap  and  the  duck- 
pool — and  all  the  other  happy  changes 
which  a  few  weeks  had  effected.  And 
he  then  asked,  did  she  not  feel  grateful  to 
a  bountiful  Providence  that  had  showered 
down  so  many  blessings  upon  her  head  ? 

"  Ah,  troth,  it's  thrue  for  yer  honor,  I 
am  grateful,"  she  replied,  in  a  whining, 
discordant  tone,  which  astonished  the 
worthy  parson. 

"  Of  course  you  are,  my  good  woman,  of 
course  you  are ;  but  I  mean-  to  say,  don't 


yon  feel  thai  every  moment  yon  live  i 
short  to  express  your  thankfulne  -  to  this 
kind  Pro\  idence  for  what  He  has  done  ? '" 

"  Ah .  darlin',  it's  all  thrue  ;  I Ec's  jrery 
good.  I [o's  mighty  kind,  so  i I 

••  \\  hy,  then,  not  acknowledge  it  in  a 
different  manner  ?"  said  the  parson,  with 
some  heal  -••  has  He  nol  housed  you,  and 
\vi\  yon.  and  clothed  yon  ? " 

•■  Yes,  alanah,  Jle  done  it  all." 

"Well,  where  is  your  gratitude  for  all 
those  mercies  ? " 

"Ah.  sure,  it'  He  did,"  said  the  old 
crone,  roused  at  length  bythe  importunity 
of  the  questioner — •'sure,  if  He  did, 
doesn't  Ho  take  it  out  o'  me  in  the  corns .' " 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

A   REMINISCENCE   OF   THE   EAST. 

The  breakfast-table  assembled  around  it 
the  three  generations  of  men  who  issued 
from  the  three  subdivisions  of  the  dili- 
gence, and  presented  that  motley  and 
mixed  assemblage  of  ranks,  ages,  and 
countries,  which  forms  so  very  arnus 
part  of  a  traveler's  experience. 

First  came  the  haute  aristocratu  of  the 
coupe,  then  the  middle  class  of  the  interi- 
eiir,  and  lastly,  the  tiers-etat  of  the  ro- 
tonde,  with  its  melange  of  Jew  money- 
lenders, under-officers  and  their  wives-,  a 
Norman  nurse  with  a  high  cap  and  a  red 
jupe  :  while,  to  close  the  procession,  a 
German  student  descended  from  the  roof. 
with  a  beard,  a  blouse,  and  a  meerschaum. 
Of  such  materials  was  our  party  made  up  : 
and  yet,  differing  in  all  our  objects  and 
interests,  we  speedily  amalgamated  into  a 
very  social  state  of  intimacy,  and  chatted 
away  over  our  breakfast  with  much  _ 
humor  and  gaiety,  each  person  of  the 
number  seaming  pleased  at  the  momentary 
opportunity  of  rinding  a  new  listener, 
my  tall  companion  of  the  coupe.  He  pre- 
served a  dogged  silence,  unbroken  by  ev<  n 
a  chance  expression  to  the  waiter,  who  ob- 
served his  wants  and  supplied  them  by  a 
species  of  quick  instinct,  evidently  ac- 
quired by  practice.  As  1  could  not  help 
feeling  somewhat  interested  about  the  her- 
mit-like attachment  he  evinced  for  soli- 
tude, I  watched  him  narrowly  for  some 
time,  and  at  length  as  the  roti  made  its 
appearance  before  him,  after  he  had  helped 
himself  and  tasted  it,  he  caught  my  eye 
fixed  upon  him,  and  looking  at  me  in- 
tently for  a  few  seconds,  he  seemed  to  be 
satisfied  in  some  passing  doubt  he  labored 


188 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


under,  as  ho  said,  with  a  most  peculiar 
shake  of  the  head — ••  No  mangez,  no  man- 
gez  cell." 

"Ah,"  said  I,  detecting  in  my  friend's 
French  his  English  origin,  "  you  are  an 
Englishman,  I  find." 

'•'The  devil  a  doubt  of  it,  darling,"  said 
he,  half  testily. 

"  An  Irishman,  too — still  better,"  said  I. 

"  Why,  then,  isn't  it  strange  that  my 
French  always  shows  me  to  be  English,  and 
my  English  proves  me  Irish  ?  It's  lucky 
for  me  there's  no  going  farther  anyhow." 

Delighted  to  have  thus  fallen  upon  a 
"  character,"  as  the  Irishman  evidently  ap- 
peared, I  moved  my  chair  toward  his ; 
finding,  however,  he  was  not  half  pleased 
at  the  manner  in  which  my  acquaintance 
had  been  made  with  him,  and  knowing  his 
country's  susceptibility  of  being  taken  by 
a  stoiT,  I  resolved  to  make  my  advances 
by  narrating  a  circumstance  which  had 
once  befallen  me  in  my  early  life. 

Our  countrymen,  English  and  Irish, 
travel  so  much  now-a-days,  that  one  ought 
never  to  feel  surprised  at  finding  them  any- 
where. The  instance  I  am  about  to  relate 
will  verify  to  a  certain  extent  the  fact,  by  i 
showing  that  no  situation  is  too  odd  or  too 
unlikely  to  be  within  the  verge  of  calcula- 
tion. 

When  the  10th  Foot,  to  which  I  then 
belonged,  were  at  Corfu,  I  obtained,  with 
three  other  officers,  a  short  leave  of  ab- 
sence, to  make  a  hurried  tour  of  the  Morea, 
and  take  a  passing  glance  at  Constanti- 
nople— in  those  days  much  less  frequently 
visited  by  travelers  than  at  present. 

After  rambling  pleasantly  about  for  some 
weeks,  we  were  about  to  return,  when  Ave 
determined  that  before  sailing  we  should 
accept  an  invitation  some  officers  of  the 
Blazer  frigate,  then  stationed  here,  had 
given  us,  to  pass  a  day  at  Pera,  and  pic-nic 
on  the  mountain. 

One  fine  bright  morning  was  therefore 
selected — and  a  most  appetizing  little  din- 
ner being  carefully  packed  up — and  we  set 
out,  a  party  of  fourteen,  upon  our  excursion. 

The  weather  was  glorious,  and  the  scene 
far  finer  than  any  of  us  had  anticipated — 
the  view  from  the  mountain  extending 
over  the  entire  city,  gorgeous  in  the  rich 
coloring  of  its  domes  and  minarets  ;  while, 
at  one  side,  the  Golden  Horn  was  visible, 
crowded  with  ships  of  every  nation,  and  at 
the  other,  a  glimpse  might  be  had  of  the 
Sea  of  Marmora,  blue  and  tranquil  as  it  lay 
beneath.  The  broad  bosom  of  the  Bos- 
phorus  Was  sheeted  out  like  a  map  before 
us — peaceful,  yet  bustling  with  life  and 
animation.     Here   lay   the  union-jack    of 


old  England,  floating  beside  the  lilies  of 
France — we  speak  of  times  when  lilies  were 
and  barricades  were  not — the  tall  and  ta- 
per spars  of  a  Yankee  frigate  towering 
above  the  low  timbers  and  heavy  hull  of  a 
Dutch  schooner — the  gilded  poop  and 
carved  galleries  of  a  Turkish  three-decker. 
anchored  beside  the  raking  mast  and 
curved  deck  of  a  suspicious  looking  craft, 
whose  reel-capped  dark-visaged  crew  need- 
ed not  the  naked  creese  at  their  sides  to 
bespeak  them  Malays.  The  whole  was  re- 
dolent of  life,  and  teeming  with  food  for 
one's  fancy  to  conjure  from- 

While  we  were  debating  upon  the  choice 
of  a  spot  for  our  luncheon,  which  should 
command  the  chief  points  of  view  within 
our  reach,  one  of  the  party  came  to  inform 
us  that  he  had  just  discovered  the  very 
thing  we  were  in  search  of.  It  was  a  small 
kiosk,  built  upon  a  projecting  rock  that 
looked  down  upon  the  Bosphorus  and  the 
city,  and  had  evidently,  from  the  extended 
views  it  presented,  been  selected  as  the 
spot  to  build  upon.  The  building  itself 
was  a  small  octagon,  open  on  every  side, 
and  presenting  a  series  of  prospects,  land 
and  seaward,  of  the  most  varied  and  mag- 
nificent kind. 

Seeing  no  one  near,  nor  any  trace  of  ha- 
bitation, we  resolved  to  avail  ourselves  of 
the  good  taste  of  the  founder  ;  and  spread- 
ing out  the  contents  of  our  hampers,  pro- 
ceeded  to  discuss  a  most  excellent  cold 
dinner.  When  the  good  things  had  disap- 
peared, and  the  wine  began  to  circulate, 
one  of  the  party  observed  that  we  should 
not  think  of  enjoying  ourselves  before  we 
had  filled  a  bumper  to  the  brim,  to  the 
health  of  our  good  king,  whose  birthday  it 
chanced  to  be.  Our  homeward  thoughts 
and  loyalty  uniting,  we  filled  our  glasses, 
and  gave  so  hearty  a  "hip,  hip,  hurrah," 
to  our  toast,  that  1  doubt  if  the  echoes  of 
those  old  rocks  ever  heard  the  equal  of  it. 

Scarcely  was  the  last  cheer  dying  away 
in  the  distance,  when  the  door  of  the  kiosk 
opened,  and  a  negro  dressed  in  white  mus- 
lin appeared,  his  arms  and  ankles  bearing 
those  huge  rings  of  massive  gold,  which 
only  persons  of  rank  distinguish  their  ser- 
vants by. 

After  a  most  profound  obeisance  to  the 
party,  he  explained,  in  very  tolerable 
French,  that  his  master  the  Effendi,  Ben 
Mustapha  Al  Halak,  at  whose  charge  (in 
house  rent)  we  were  then  feasting,  sent  us 
greeting,  and  begged  that  if  not  considered 
as  contrary  to  our  usage,  etc.,  we  should 
permit  him  and  his  suite  to  approach  the 
kiosk  and  observe  us  at  our  meal. 

Independent   of    his   politeness   in    the 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


ISO 


mode  of  conveying  the  request,  as  he  would 
prove  fully  as  entertaining  a  sighl  to  as  as 
we  could  possibly  be  to  him,  we  immedi- 
ately expressed  our  great  willingness  to  re- 
ceive bis  visit,  coupled  with  a  half-hint 
that  perhaps  he  might  honor  us  by  joining 
the  party. 

After  a  half-hour's  delay,  the  door  was 
once  more  thrown  open,  and  a  venerable 
Old  Turk  entered  :  he  salaamed  three  times 
most  reverently,  and  motioned  to  us  to  be 
seated,  declining,  at  the  same  time,  by  a 
gentle  gesture  of  his  hand,  our  invitation. 
He  was  followed  by  a  train  of  six  persons, 
all  splendidly  attired,  and  attesting,  by 
their  costume  and  manner,  the  rank  and 
importance  of  their  chief.  Conceiving 
that  his  visit  had  but  one  object — to  ob- 
serve our  convivial  customs — we  immedi- 
ately re-seated  ourselves,  and  tilled  our 
glasses. 

As  one  after  another  the  officers  of  the 
Effendi's  household  passed  round  the 
apartments,  we  offered  them  a  goblet  of 
champagne,  which  they  severally  declined 
with  a  polite  but  solemn  smile — all  except 
one,  a  large,  savage-looking  Turk,  with  a 
most  ferocious  scowl,  and  the  largest  black 
beard  1  ever  beheld.  He  did  not  content 
himself  with  a  mute  refusal  of  our  offer, 
but  stopping  suddenly,  lie  raised  up  his 
hands  above  his  head,  and  muttered  some 
words  in  Turkish,  which  one  of  the  party 
informed  us  was  a  very  satisfactory  recom- 
mendation of  the  whole  company  to  Satan 
for  their  heretic  abomination. 

The  procession  moved  slowly  round  the 
room,  and  when  it  reached  the  door  again 
retired,  each  member  of  it  salaaming  three 
times  as  he  had  done  on  entering.  Scarce- 
ly had  they  gone,  when  we  burst  into  a 
loud  fit  of  laughter  at  the  savage-looking 
fellow  who  thought  proper  to  excommuni- 
cate us,  and  were  about  to  discuss  his  more 
than  common  appearance  of  disgust  at  our 
proceedings,  when  again  the  door  opened, 
and  a  turbaned  head  peeped  in,  hut  so 
altered  were  the  features,  that  although 
seen  but  the  moment  before,  Ave  could 
hardly  believe  them  the  same.  The  dark 
complexion — the  long  and  bushy  beard 
were  there — but  instead  of  the  sleepy  and 
solemn  character  of  the  Oriental,  with 
heavy  eye  and  closed  lip,  there  was  a  droll 
half  devilry  in  the  look,  and  partly  open 
mouth,  that  made  a  most  laughable  con- 
trast with  the  head-dress.  He  looked 
stealthily  around  him  for  an  instant,  as 
if  to  see  that  all  was  right,  and  then. 
with  an  accent  and  expression  I  shall 
never  forget,  said.  "77/  taste  your  wine, 
gentlemen,  av  it  be  pleasing  to  ye." 


CHAPTER  XI. VI. 


A  DAY    IN    TIIK    PHI 


When  we  were  oner,  more  in  the  coupe 
of  the  diligence,  I  directed  my  entire  in- 
tention toward  my  frish  acquaintance,  as 
well  because  of  his  apparenl  singularity,  as 
to  avoid  t  he  In  i  le  <  rerman  in  the  op] 
eornei-. 

"You  have  not  been  long  in  France, 
then,  sir."  said   i,  as  wri  I  our  con- 

versation. 

" Three  weeks,  and  it  seems  like  three 
years  to  me — nothing  \<>  eat — nothing  to 
drink — and  nob  >dy  to  speak  to.  But  I'll 
go  back  soon — 1  only  came  abroad  lor  a 
month." 

"You'll  scarcely  see  much  of  the  Con- 
tinent in  so  short  a  time." 

"Devil  a  much  that  will  grieve  me — I 
didn't  come  to  see  it." 

"  Indeed !" 

"Nothing  of  the  kind  ;  I  only  came — to 
be  away  from  home." 

"Oh" !  I  perceive." 

"You're  quite  out  there,"  said  my  com- 
panion, misinterpreting  my  meaning.  -t  It 
wasn't  anything  of  that  kind.  I  don't  owe 
sixpence.  I  was  laughed  out  of  Ireland 
— that's  all,  though  that  same  is  bad 
enough." 

"Laughed  out  of  it  !" 

"Just  so — and  little  you  know  of  Ire- 
land if  that  surprises  you." 

After  acknowledging  that  such  an  event 
was  perfectly  possible,  from  what  I  myself 
had  seen  of*  that  country,  I  obtained  tin- 
following  very  brief  account  of  my  compan- 
ion's reasons  for  foreign  travel  : — 

"Well,  sir,"  began  he,  "'it  is  about  four 
months  since  I  brought  up  to  Dublin  from 
Gal  way  a  little  chestnut  mare,  with  crop- 
ped cars  and  a  short  tail,  square-jointed, 
and  rather  low — just  what  you'd  call  a 
smart  hack  forgoing  to  cover  with— a  live- 
ly thing  on  the  road  with  a  light  weight. 
Nobody  ever  suspected  that  she  was  a  clean- 
bred  tiling— own  sister  to  Jenny,  that  Avon 
the  Corinthians,  and  ran  second  to  Giles 
for  the  Riddlesworth— but  so  she  was,  and 
a  better  bred  mare  never  leaped  the  pound 
in  Ballinasloe.  Well,  I  brought  her  to 
Dublin,  and  used  to  ride  her  out  two  or 
three  times  a  week,  making  little  matches 
sometimes  to  trot— and,  for  a  thorough- 
bred, she  was  a  clipper  at  trotting — to  trot 
a  mile  or  so  on  the  grass — another  day  to 
gallop  the  length  of  the  Nine  Acres  oppo- 
site the  Lodge — and  then  sometines  back 
her  for  a  ton-pound  note,  to  jump  the  big- 
gest furze-bush  that  could  be  found — all  of 


100 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


which  she  could  do  with  ease,  nobody 
thinking,  all  the  while,  that  the  cock-tail- 
ed pony  was  by  Scroggins,  out  of  a  '  Lamp- 
lighter mare.'  As  every  fellow  that  was 
beat  to-day  was  sure  to  come  back  to-mor- 
row, with  something  better,  either  of  bis 
own  or  a  friend's,  I  had  matches  booked 
for  every  day  in  the  week — for  I  always 
made  my  little  boy  that  rode,  win  by  hall' 
a  neck,  or  a  nostril,  and  so  we  kept  on  day 
after  day  pocketing  from  ten  to  thirty 
pounds,  or  thereabouts.  It  Avas  mighty 
pleasant  while  it  lasted,  for  besides  winning 
the  money,  I  had  my  own  fun  laughing  at 
the  spdonies  that  never  could  book  my  bets 
fast  enough.  Young  infantry  officers  and 
the  junior  bar — they  were  for  the  most 
part  mighty  nice  to  look  at,  but  very  raw 
about  racing.  How  long  I  might  have 
gone  on  in  this  way  I  cannot  say  ;  but  one 
morning  I  fell  in  with  a  fat,  elderly  gentle- 
man, in  shorts  and  gaiters,  mounted  on  a 
dun  cob  pony,  that  was  very  fidgety  and 
hot-tempered,  and  appeared  to  give  the 
rider  a  great  deal  of  uneasiness. 

"  '  He's  a  spicy  hack  you're  on,  sir,'  said 
I,  '  and  has  a  go  in  him,  I'll  be  bound.' 

" '  I  rayther  think  he  has,'  said  the  old' 
gentleman,  half  testily. 

"  '  And  can  trot  a  bit,  too.' 

"'Twelve  Irish  miles  in  fifty  minutes, 
with  my  weight.'  Here  he  looked  down  at 
a  paunch  like  a  sugar  hogshead. 

"  '  Maybe  he's  not  bad  across  a  country,' 
said  I,  rather  to  humor  the  old  fellow,  who, 
I  saw,  was  proud  of  his  pony. 

'"I'd  like  to  see  his  match,  that's  all.' 
Here  he  gave  a  rather  contemptuous  glance 
at  my  hack. 

"  Well,  one  word  led  to  another,  and  it 
ended  at  last  in  our  booking  a  match,  with 
which  one  party  was  no  less  pleased  than 
the  other.  It  was  this  :  each  was  to  ride 
his  own  horse,  starting  from  the  school  in 
the  Park,  round  the  Fifteen  Acres,  out- 
side the  Monument,  and  back  to  the  start 
— just  one  heat,  about  a  mile  and  a  half — 
the  ground  good,  and  only  soft  enough. 
In  consideration,  however,  of  his  greater 
weight,  I  was  to  give  odds  in  the  start ;  and 
as  we  could  not  well  agree  on  how  much, 
it  was  at  length  decided  that  he  was  to  get 
away  first,  and  I  to  follow  as  fast  as  I 
could,  after  drinking  a  pewter  quart  full  of 
Guinness's  double  stout — droll  odds,  you'll 
say,  but  it  was  the  old  fellow's  own  thought, 
and  as  the  match  was  a  soft  one,  I  let  him 
have  his  way. 

"The  next  morning  the  Phoenix  was 
crowded  as  if  for  a  review.  There  were 
all  the  Dublin  notorieties,  swarming  in 
barouches,     and     tilburies,     and     outside 


jaunting-cars — smart  clerks  in  the  Post- 
ollice,  mounted  upon  kicking  devils  from 
Dycer's  and  Lalouette's  stables — attorneys' 
wives  and  daughters  from  York  Street, 
and  a  stray  doctor  or  so  on  a  hack  that 
looked  as  if  it  had  been  lectured  on  for 
the  six  winter  months  at  the  College  of 
Surgeons.  My  antagonist  was  half  an 
hour  late,  which  time  I  occupied  in  book- 
ing bets  cm  every  side  of  me — offering  odds 
of  ten,  fifteen,  and  at  last,  to  tempt  the 
people,  twenty-five  to  one  against  the  dun. 
At  last  the  fat  gentleman  came  up  on  a 
jaunting-car,  followed  by  a  groom  leading 
the  cob.  I  wish  you  heart!  the  cheer  that 
greeted  him  on  his  arrival,  for  it  appeared 
he  was  a  well-known  character  in  town, 
and  much  in  favor  with  the  mob.  When 
he  got  off  the  car,  he  bundled  into  a  tent, 
followed  by  a  few  of  his  friends,  where 
they  remained  for  about  five  minutes,  at 
the  end  of  which  he  came  out  in  full  rac- 
ing costume — blue  and  yellow-striped 
jacket,  blue  cap  and  leathers — looking  as 
funny  a  figure  as  ever  you  set  eyes 
upon.  I  now  thought  it  time  to  throw  off 
my  white  surtout,  and  show  out  in  pink 
and  orange,  the  colors  I  had  been  winning 
in  for  two  months  past.  While  some  of 
the  party  were  sent  on  to  station  them- 
selves at  different  places  round  the  Fifteen 
Acres,  to  mark  out  the  course,  my  fat 
friend  was  assisted  into  his  saddle,  and 
gave  a  short  preliminary  gallop  of  a  hun- 
dred yards  or  so,  that  set  us  all  a-laughing. 
The  odds  were  now  fifty  to  one  in  my 
favor,  and  I  gave  them  wherever  I  could 
find  takers.  '  With  you,  sir,  if  you  please, 
in  pounds,  and  the  gentleman  in  the  red 
whiskers,  too,  if  he  likes  ;  very  well,  in 
half-sovereigns,  if  you  prefer  it.'  So  I 
went  on,  betting  on  every  side,  till  the 
bell  rang  to  mount.  As  I  knew  I  had 
plenty  of  time  to  spare,  I  took  little  notice, 
and  merely  giving  a  look  to  my  girths,  I 
continued  leisurely  booking  my  bets.  At 
last  the  time  came,  and  at  the  word 
'Away! 'off  went  the  fat  gentleman  on 
the  dun,  at  a  spluttering  gallop,  that  flung 
the  mud  on  every  side  of  us,  and  once 
more  threw  us  all  a-laughing.  I  waited 
patiently  till  he  got  near  the  upper  end  of 
the  park,  taking  bets  every  minute  ;  now 
that  he  was  away,  every  one  offered  to 
wager.  At  last,  when  I  had  let  him  get 
nearly  half  round,  and  found  no  more 
money  could  be  had,  I  called  out  to  his 
friends  for  the  porter,  and,  throwing  my- 
self into  the  saddle,  gathered  up  the  reins 
in  my  hand.  The  crowd  fed  back  on  eac;: 
side,  while  from  the  tent  I  have  already 
mentioned  out  came  a  thin   fellow   with' 


HARRY  LORRJJQUER. 


191 


one  eye,  with  a  pewter  quart  in  his  hand  : 
he  lifted  it  up  toward  me,  and  1  took  it  ; 
but  what  was  my  fright  to  find  that  the 
porter  was  boiling,  and  the  vessel  so  h<>i  I 
could  barely  hold  it.  I  endeavored  t<> 
drink,  however:  the  first  mouthful  book 
all  the  skin  oft'  my  lips  and  tongue,  the 
second  half  choked,  and  the  third  nearly 
threw  me  into  an  apoplectic  fit,  the  mob 
cheering  all  the  time  like  devils.  Mean 
time,  the  old  fellow  had  reached  the  furze, 
and  was  going  along  like  fun.  Again  1 
tried  the  porter,  and  a  tit  of  coughing 
Came  on  which  lasted  five  minutes.  The 
pewter  was  so  hot  that  the  edge  of  the 
quart  took  away  a  piece  of  my  mouth  at 
every  effort.  I  ventured  once  more,  and 
with  the  desperation  of  a  madman  I  threw 
down  the  hot  liquid  to  its  last  drop.  My 
head  reeled,  my  eyes  glared,  and  my  brain 
was  on  fire.  I  thought  I  beheld  fifty  fat 
gentlemen,  riding  on  every  side  of  me,  and 
all  the  sky  raining  jackets  in  blue  and  yel- 
low. Half  mechanically  I  took  the  reins, 
and  put  spurs  to  my  horse  ;  but  before  I 
got  well  away,  a  loud  cheer  from  the 
crowd  assailed  me.  I  turned,  and  saw  the 
dun  coming  in  at  a  floundering  gallop, 
covered  with  foam,  and  so  dead  blown  that 
neither  himself  nor  the  rider  could  have 
got  twenty  yards  farther.  The  race  was, 
however,  won.  My  odds  were  lost  to  every 
man  on  the  field,  and,  worse  than  all,  I 
was  so  laughed  at,  that  1  could  not  venture 
out  in  the  streets,  without  ltearing  allu- 
sions  to   my    misfortune  ;    for   a   certain 

friend  of  mine,  one  Tom  O'Flaherty " 

"Tom  of  the  11th  Light  Dragoons  ?" 
"The   same;    you    know   Tom,    then? 
Maybe  you  have  heard  him  mention  me — 
Maurice  Malone  ?" 

"Not  Mr.  Malone,  of  Fort  Peak  ?" 
"  Bad  luck  to  him.  I  am  as  well  known 
in  connection  with  Fort  Peak,  as  the  Duke 
is  with  Waterloo.  There  is  .not  a  part  of 
the  globe  where  he  has  not  told  that  con- 
founded story. " 

As  my  readers  may  not  possibly  be  all 
numbered  in  Mr.  O'Flaherty's  acquaint- 
ance, I  shall  venture  to  give  the  anecdote 
which  Mr.  Malone  accounted  to  be  so  wide- 
ly circulated. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

AN   ADVENTURE  IN   CANADA. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  last  war  with 
America,  a  small  detachment  of  military 
occupied  the  little  block-house  of  Fort 
Peak,  which,  about  eight  miles  from  the 


Falls  of  Niagara,  formed  the  Iasl  outpost 
on  t  he  frontier.  The  Fort,  in  itself  incon- 
siderable, was  only  of  important  as  com- 
manding a  pari  of  the  river  where  il  was 
praet  icable  to  ford,  and  w  here  the  easy  a-- 
eent  of  the  hank  offered  a  safe  -it  nat  ion 
for  the  enemy  to  cross  over,  whenever  they 
felt  disposed  to  carry  the  war  into  our  ter- 
ritory. 

There  having  been,  howei  sr,  no  threat 
of  invasion  in  I  hi-  quarter,  and  the  natu- 
ral strength  of  the  position  !■<  ing  consider- 
able, a  mere  handful  of  men,  with  two 
subaltern  officers,  were  allotted  for  this 
duty — such  being  conceived  ample  to 
maintain  it-  till  the  arrival  of  succor  from 
headquarters,  then  at  tattle  York,  on  the 
Opposite  side  of  the  lake.  The  oilier-'  of 
this  party  were  our  old  acquaintance  Tom 
O'Flaherty,  and  our  newly-made  one  Mau- 
rice Malone. 

Whatever  may  be  the  merits  of  com- 
manding officers,  one  virtue  they  certainly 
can  lay  small  claim  to,  viz.,  any  insight 
into  character,  or  at  least  any  regard  for 
the  knowledge.  Seldom  are  two  nun  sent 
off  on  detachment  duty  to  some  remote 
quarter,  to  associate  daily  and  hourly  for 
months  together,  that  they  are  not.  by 
some  happy  chance,  the  very  people  who 
never,  as  the  phrase  is.  "  took  to  each 
other"  in  their  lives.  The  gray-headed, 
weather-beaten,  disappointed  "  Peninsu- 
lar" is  coupled  with  theessenced  and  dan- 
dified Adonis  of  the  corps  ;  the  man  of  lit- 
erary tastes  and  cultivated  pursuits  with 
the  empty-headed,  ill-formed  youth,  fresh 
from  Harrow  or  Westminster.  This  case 
offered  no  exception  to  the  rule  :  for 
though  there  were  few  men  possessed  of 
more  assimilating  powers  than  O'Flaherty, 
yet  certainly  his  companion  did  put  the 
faculty  to  the  test,  for  anything  more  un- 
like him  there  never  existed.  Tom,  all 
good  humor  and  high  spirits — making  the 
best  of  everything— never  nonplussed — 
never  taken  aback — perfectly  ai  home, 
whether  flirting  with  a  Lady  Charlotte  in 
her  drawing-room,  or  crossing  a  grouse 
mountain  in  the  Highlands — sufficiently 
well  read  to  talk  on  any  ordinary  topic — 
and  always  ready-witted  enough  to  seem 
more  so.  A  thorough  sportsman,  whether 
showing  forth  in  his  '•  pink  "  at  Melton, 
whipping  a  trout-stream  in  Wales,  or  filling 
a  country-house  with  black  cock  and  moor- 
fowl  ;  an  unexceptionable  judge  of  all  the 
good  things  in  life,  from  a  pretty  ankle  to 
a  well-hung  tilbury — from  the  odds  at  haz- 
ard to  the  '•Comet  vintage."  Such,  in 
brief,  was  Tom.  Now  Ins  confrere  was 
none  of  these  ;  he  had  been  drafted  from 


192 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


the  G-alway  militia  to  the  line,  for  some 
election  services  rendered  by  his  family  to 
the  government  candidate  ;  was  of  a  sat- 
urnine and  discontented  habit,  always  mis- 
erable about  some  trifle  or  other,  and  nev- 
er at  rest  till  he  bad  drowned  bis  sorrows 
in  Jamaica  rum,  which,  since  the  regiment 
was  abroad,  he  had  copiously  used  as  a 
substitute  for  whisky-  To  such  an  extent 
had  this  passion  gained  upon  him,  that  a 
corporal's  guard  was  always  in  attendance 
whenever  he  dined  out,  to  convey  him 
home  to  the  barracks. 

The  wearisome  monotony  of  a  close  gar- 
rison, with  so  ungenial  a  companion,  would 
have  damped  any  man's  spirits  but  O'Fla- 
herty's.  He,  however,  upon  this,  as  other 
occasions  in  life,  rallied  himself  to  make 
the  best  of  it ;  and,  by  short  excursions 
within  certain  prescribed  limits  along  the 
river  side  contrived  to  shoot  and  fish 
enough  to  get  through  the  day,  and  im- 
prove the  meagre  fare  of  his  mess-table. 
Malone  never  appeared  before  dinner — his 
late  sittings  at  night  requiring  all  the  fol- 
lowing day  to  recruit  him  from  a  new  at- 
tack upon  the  rum  bottle. 

Now,  although  his  seeing  so  little  of  his 
brother  officer  was  anything  but  unpleas- 
ant to  O'Flaherty,  yet  the  ennui  of  such  .a 
life  was  gradually  wearing  him,  and  all  his 
wits  were  put  in  requisition  to  furnish  oc- 
cupation for  his  time.  Never  a  day  passed 
without  his  praying  ardently  for  an  attack 
from  the  enemy  ;  any  alternative,  any  re- 
verse, had  been  a  blessing  compared  with 
his  present  life.  No  such  spirit,  however, 
seemed  to  animate  the  Yankee  troops  ;  not 
a  soldier  was  to  be  seen  for  miles  around, 
and  every  straggler  that  passed  the  Fort 
concurred  in  saying  that  the  Americans 
were  not  within  four  days'  march  of  the 
frontier. 

Weeks  passed  over,  and  the  same  state 
of  things  remaining  unchanged,  O'Flaher- 
ty gradually  relaxed  some  of  his  strictness 
as  to  duty  ;  small  foraging  parties  of  three 
and  four  being  daily  permitted  to  leave 
the  Fort  for  a  few  hours,  to  which  they 
usually  returned  laden  with  wild  turkeys 
and  fish — both  being  found  in  great  abun- 
dance near  them. 

Such  was  the  life  of  the  little  garrison 
for  two  or  three  long  summer  months — 
each  day  so  resembling  its  fellow,  that  no 
difference  could  be  found. 

As  to  how  the  war  was  faring,  or  what 
the  aspect  of  affairs  might  be,  they  abso- 
lutely knew  nothing.  Newspapers  never 
reached  them  ;  and  whether  from  having 
so  much  occupation  at  headquarters,  or 
that  the  difficulty  of  sending  letters  pre- 


vented, their  friends  never  wrote  a  line; 
and  thus  they  jogged  on  a  very  vegetable 
existence,  till  thought  at  last  was  stag- 
nating in  their  brains,  and  O'Flaherty 
half  envied  his  companion's  resource  in 
the  spirit  flask. 

Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  at  the 
Fort,  when  one  evening  O'Flaherty  ap- 
peared to  pace  the  little  rampart  that 
looked  toward  Lake  Ontario,  with  an  ap- 
pearance of  anxiety  and  impatience 
strangely  at  variance  with  his  daily  phleg- 
matic look.  It  seemed  that  the  corporal's 
party  he  had  despatched  that  morning  to 
forage  near  the  "Falls"'  had  not  returned, 
and  already  w'ere  four  hours  later  than 
their  time  away. 

Every  imaginable  mode  of  accounting 
for  their  absence  suggested  itself  to  his 
mind.  Sometimes  he  feared  that  they 
had  been  attacked  by  the  Indian  hunters, 
who  were  far  from  favorably  disposed 
toward  their  poaching  neighbors.  Then, 
again,  it  might  be  merely  that  they  had 
missed  their  track  in  the  forest ;  or  could 
it  be  that  they  had  ventured  to  reach  Goat 
Island  in  a  canoe,  and  had  been  carried 
clown  the  rapids.  Such  were  the  torturing 
doubts  that  passed,  as*  some  shrill  squirrel 
or  hoarse  night  owl  pierced  the  air  with  a 
cry,  and  then  all  was  silent  again.  While 
thus  the  hours  went  slowly  by,  his  atten- 
tion was  attracted  by  a  bright  ligh't  in  the 
sky.  It  appeared  as  if  part  of  the  heavens 
were  reflecting  some  strong  glare  from  be- 
neath, for,  as  he  looked,  the  light,  at  first 
pale  and  colorless,  gradually  deepened  into 
a  rich  mellow  hue,  and  at  length,  through 
the  murky  blackness  of  the  night,  a  strong 
clear  current  of  flame  rose  steadily  upward 
from  the  earth,  and  pointed  toward  the 
sky.  From  the  direction,  it  must  have 
been  either  at  the  Falls  or  immediately 
near  them  ;  and  now  the  horrible  convic- 
tion flashed  upon  his  mind  that  the  party 
had  been  waylaid  by  the  Indians,  who 
were,  as  is  their  custom,  making  a  war- 
feast  over  their  victims. 

Not  an  instant  was  to  be  lost.  The  lit- 
tle garrison  beat  to  arms  ;  and,  as  the  men 
fell"  in,  O'Flaherty  cast  his  eyes  around, 
while  he  selected  a  few  brave  fellows  to 
accompany  him.  Scarcely  had  the  men 
fallen  out  from  the  ranks,  when  the  senti- 
nel at  the  gate  was  challenged  by  a  well- 
known  voice,  and  in  a  moment  more  the 
corporal  of  the  foraging  party  was  among 
them.  Fatigue  and  exhaustion  had  so 
overcome  him,  that  for  some  minutes  he 
was  speechless.  At  length  he  recovered 
sufficiently  to  give  the  following  brief  ac- 
count : — 


HA  RR  Y  L  ORREQ  UER. 


1% 


The  little  party  having  obtained  their 
supply  of  venison  above  Queenston,  were 
returning  to  the  Fort,  when  they  suddenly 
came  upon  a  track  of  feet,  and  little  ex- 
perience in  forest  life  soon  proved  that 
some  new  arrivals  had  reached  the  hunt- 
ing grounds,  for  on  examining  them  close- 
ly, they  proved  neither  to  be  Indian  tracks, 
nor  yet  those  made  by  the  shoes  of  the 
Fort  party.  Proceeding  with  caution  to 
track  them  backward  for  three  or  four 
miles,  they  reached  the  hank  of  the  Niag- 
ara river,  above  the  whirlpools,  where  the 
crossing  is  most  easily  effected  from  the 
American  side.  The  mystery  was  at  once 
explained  :  it  was  a  surprise  party  of  the 
Yankees,  sent,  to  attack  Fort  Peak  ;  and 
now  the  only  thing  to  he  done  was  to  has- 
ten back  immediately  to  their  friends,  and  ; 
prepare  for  their  reception. 

With  this  intent  they  took  the  river 
path  as  the  shortest,  hut  had  not  pro- 
ceeded far  when  their  fears  were  confirm- 
ed ;  for  in  a  little  embay ment  of  the  hank 
they  perceived  a  party  of  twenty  blue 
coats,  who,  with  their  arms  piled,  were  ly- 
ing  around  as  if  waiting  for  the  hour  of 
attack.  The  sight  .of  this  party  added 
greatly  to  their  alarm,  for  they  now  per- 
ceived that  the  Americans  had  divided 
their  force — the  foot-tracks  first  seen  being 
evidently  those  of  another  division.  As. the 
corporal  and  his  few  men  continued,  from 
the  low  and  thick  brushwood,  to  make 
their  reconnaissance  of  the  enemy,  they 
observed  with  delight  that  they  were  not 
regulars,  but  a  militia  force.  With  this 
one  animating  thought,  they  again,  with 
noiseless  step,  regained  the  forest,  and  pro- 
ceeded upon  their  way.  Scarcely,  however. 
had  they  marched  a  mile,  when  the  sound 
of  voices  and  loud  laughter  apprised  them 
that  another  party  was  near,  which,  as  well 
as  they  could  observe  in  the  increasing 
gloom,  was  still  larger  than  the  former. 
They  were  now  obliged  to  make  a  consid- 
erable circuit,  and  advance  still  deeper  in- 
to the  forest — their  anxiety  hourly  increas- 
ing, lest  the  enemy  should  reach  the  Fort 
before  themselves.  In  this  dilemma  it 
was  resolved  that  the  party  should  separate 
— the  corporal  determining  to  proceed 
alone  by  the  river  bank,  while  the  others, 
by  a  detour  of  some  miles,  should  endeavor 
to  learn  the  force  of  the  Yankees,  and,  as 
far  as  they  could,  their  mode  of  attack. 
From  that  instant  the  corporal  knew  no 
more;  for,  after  two  hours'  weary  exertion, 
he  reached  the  Fort,  which,  had  it  been 
but  another  mile  distant,  his  stiength  had  | 
not  held  out  for  him  to  attain. 

However  gladly  poor  O'Flaherty  might 

VOL.  I. — 13 


have  hailed  such  information  under  other 
circumstances,  now  it  came  like  a.  thunder- 
bolt upon  him.  Six  <>l'  his  small  fora 
were  away,  perhaps  ere  I  hi-  made  prisoi 
by  the  enemy  ;  the  Yankees,  a-  well  a-  he 
could  judge,  were  a  numerous  party;  and 
he  himself  totally  without  a  single  adi 
— for  Malone  had  dined,  and  was,  there- 
fore, by  this  time  in  t  hat  pleasing  Btate  <>f 
indifference,  in  which  he  could  only  re- 
cognize an  enemy  in  the  man  that  did  nut 
send  round  t  he  decanter. 

In  the  half-indulged  hope  that  hie 
might,  permit  some  faint  exercise  of  the 
reasoning  faculty,  O'Flaherty  walked 
toward  the  small  den  they  had  designated 
as  the  mess-room,  in  search  of  his  brother- 
j  officer. 

As  he  entered  the  apartment,  little  dis- 
posed as  he  felt  to  mirth  at  such  a  mo- 
ment, the  tableau  before  him  was  too  ridi- 
culous not  to  laugh  at.  At  one  side  of 
the  fireplace  sat,  .Malone,  his  face  florid 
with  drinking,  and  his  eyeballs  projecting. 
Upon  his  head  was  a  small  Indian  skull- 
cap, with  two  peacock's  feathers,  and  a 
piece  of  scarlet  cloth  which  hung  down 
behind.  In  one  hand  lie  held  a  smoking 
goblet  of  rum  punch,  and  in  the  other  a 
long  Indian  C'hibook  pipe.  Opposite  to 
him,  but  squatted  upon  the  floor,  reposed 
a  red  Indian,  that  lived  in  the  Fort  as  a 
guide,  equally  drunk,  but  preserving,  even 
in  his  liquor,  an  impassive,  grave  aspect, 
strangely  contrasting  with  the  high  ex- 
citement of  Malone's  face.  The  red  man 
vyore  Malone's  uniform  coat,  which  he  had 
put  on  back  foremost — his  head-dress  hav- 
ing, in  all  probability,  been  exchanged  for 
it,  as  an  amicable  courtesy  between  the 
parties.  There  they  sat,  looking  fixedly  at 
each  other ;  neither  spoke,  nor  even 
smiled — the  rum  bottle,  which  at  brief  in- 
tervals passed  from  one  to  the  other,  main- 
tained a  friendly  intercourse  that  each  was 
content  with. 

To  the  hearty  fit  of  laughing  of  O'Fla- 
herty, Malone  replied  by  a  look  of  drunken 
defiance,  and  then  nodded  to  his  red  friend, 
who  returned  the  courtesy.  As  poor  Tom 
left  the  room,  he  saw  that  nothing  was  to 
he  hoped  for  in  this  quarter,  and  deter- 
mined to  heat  the  garrison  to  arms  without 
any  further  delay.  Scarcely  had  he  closed 
the  door  behind  him.  when  a  sudden 
thought  Hashed  through  his  brain.  He 
hesitated,  walked  forward  a  few  paces, 
stopped  again,  and  calling  out  to  the  cor- 
poral, said. — 

'•  You  are  certain  they  were  militia  'J.  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  quite  sure." 

"Then,    by    Jove,    I    have    it,"   cried 


1 94 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


O'FIaherty.  "If  they  should  turn  out  to 
be  the  Buffalo  Fencibles,  we  ma}  gel 
through  this  scrape  better  than  1  hoped 
for." 

"  I  believe  you  are  right,  sir  ;  for  I  heard 
one  of  the  men  as  I  passed  observe,  '  What 
will  they  say  m  Buffalo  when  it's  over  ? ' " 

"Send  Mathers  here,  corporal;  and  do 
you  order  four  rank  and  file,  with  side- 
arms,  to  be  in  readiness  immediately." 

"Mathers,  you  have  heard  the  news," 
said  O'FIaherty,  as  the  sergeant  entered. 
'•  Can  the  Fort  hold  out  against  such  a 
force  as  Jaekson  reports  ?  You  doubt  ; 
well,  so  do  I ;  so  let's  see  what's  to  be 
done.  Can  you  remember,  was  it  not  the 
Buffalo  militia  that  were  so  tremendously 
thrashed  by  the  Delawares  last  autumn  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  they  chased  them  for  two 
days  and  nights,  and  had  they  not  reached 
the  town  of  Buffalo,  the  Delawares  would 
not  have  left  a  scalp  in  the  regiment." 

"  Can  you  recollect  the  chief's  name — 
it  was  Carran — something,  eh  ?" 

"  Caudan-dacwagae." 

"  Exactly.  AYhere  is  he  supposed  to  be 
now  r 

"Up  in  Detroit,  sir,  they  say,  but  no 
one  knows.  Those  fellows  are  here  to- 
day, and  there  to-morrow." 

"  Well  then,  sergeant,  here's  my  plan." 
Saying  these  words,  O'FIaherty  proceeded 
to  walk  toward  his  quarters,  accompanied 
by  the  sergeant,  with  whom  he  conversed 
for  some  time  eagerly  ;  occasionally  reply- 
ing, as  it  appeared,  to  objections,  and  of- 
fering explanations  as  the  other  seemed  to 
require  them.  The  colloquy  lasted  half  an 
hour  ;  and  although  the  veteran  sergeant 
seemed  difficult  of  conviction,  it  ended  by 
his  saying,  as  he  left  the  room, — 

"  Well,  sir,  as  you  say,  it  can  only  come 
to  hard  knocks  at  worst.  Flere  goes.  I'll 
send  off  the  scout  party  to  make  fires  and 
choose  the  men  for  the  out-pickets,  for  no 
time  is  to  be  lost." 

In  about  an  hour's  time  from  the  scene 
I  have  mentioned,  a  number  of  militia 
officers,  of  different  grades,  were  seated 
round  a  bivouac  fire,  upon  the  bank  of 
the  Niagara  river.  The  conversation 
seemed  of  an  angry  nature,  for  the  voices 
of  the  speakers  were  loud  and  irascible, 
and  their  gestures  evidenced  a  state  of 
high  excitement. 

"  I  see,"  said  one,  who  seemed  the  supe- 
rior of  the  party — "I  see  well  where  this 
will  end.  We  shall  have  another  Queens- 
con  affair,  as  we  had  last  fall  with  the 
Delawares." 

"I  only  say,"  replied  another,  "that  if 
you  wish  our  men  to  stand  lire  to-morrow 


morning,  the  less  you  remind  them  of  the 
Delawares  the  better.  What  is  that  noise? 
Is  not  that  a  drum  beating  ?" 

The  party  at  these  words  sprang  to  their 
legs,  and  stood  in  an  attitude  of  listening 
lor  sonic  seconds. 

"  Who  goes  there?"  sang  out  a  sentinel 
from  his  post ;  and  then,  after  a  moment's 
delay,  added  :  "  Fas,-;  Hag  of  truce  to  Ma- 
jor Brown's  quarters." 

Scarcely  were  the  words  spoken,  when 
three  officers  in  scarlet,  preceded  by  a 
drummer  with  a  white  flag,  stood  before 
the  American  party. 

"To  whom  may  I  address  myself?" 
said  one  of  the  British — who,  I  may  in- 
form my  reader,  en  passant,  was  no  other 
than  O'FIaherty — "  to  whom  may  1  ad- 
dress myself  as  the  officer  in  command  ?" 

"I  am  Major  Brown,"  said  a  short, 
plethoric  little  man,  in  a  blue  uniform  and 
round  hat.     "  And  who  are  you  ?" 

"  Major  O'FIaherty,  of  'his  Majesty's 
Fifth  Foot,"  said  Tom,  with  a  very  sono- 
rous emphasis  on  each  word,  "  the  hearer 
of  a  flag  of  truce  and  an  amicable  propo- 
sition from  Major-General  Allen,  com- 
manding the  garrison  of  Fort  Peak." 

The  Americans,  who  were  evidently 
taken  by  surprise  at  their  intentions  of  at- 
tack being  known,  were  silent,  while  he 
continued  : — 

"  Gentlemen,  it  may  appear  somewdiat 
strange  that  a  garrison,  possessing  the 
natural  strength  of  a  powerful  position, 
supplied  with  abundant  ammunition  and 
every  muniment  of  war,  should  despatch 
a  flag  of  truce  on  the  eve  of  an  attack,  in 
preference  to  waiting  for  the  moment  when 
a  sharp  and  well-prepared  reception  might 
best  attest  its  vigilance  and  discipline. 
But  the  reasons  for  this  step  are  soon  ex- 
plained. In  the  first  place,  you  intend  a 
surprise.  We  have  been  long  aware  of 
your  projected  attack.  Our  spies  have 
tracked  you  from  your  crossing  the  river 
above  the  whirlpool  to  your  present  posi- 
tion. Every  man  of  your  party  is  num- 
bered by  us  ;  and,  what  is  still  more,  num- 
bered by  our  allies  ;  yes,  gentlemen,  I  must 
repeat  it,  'allies,'  though,  as  a  Briton,  I 
blush  at  the  word.  Shame  and  disgrace 
for  ever  be  that  man's  portion  who  first 
associated  the  honorable  usages  of  war  with 
the  atrocious  and  bloody  cruelties  of  the 
savage;  Yet  so  it  is  :  the  Delawares  of 
the  hills" — here  the  Yankees  exchanged 
very  peculiar  jooks — "have  this  morning- 
arrived  at  Fort  Peak,  with  orders  to  rav- 
age the  whole  of  your  frontier,  from  Fort 
George  to  Lake  Erie.  They  brought  us 
the   information   of    your   approach,   and 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


195 


their  chief  is,  while  I  speak,  making  an 
infamous  proposition,  by  which  a  price  is 
to  be  paid  for  every  scalp  he  produces  in 
the  morning.  Now,  as  the  General  cannot 
refuse  to  co-operate  with  the  savages  with- 
out compromising  himself  with  the  com- 
mander-in-chief, neither  can  he  accept  of 
such  assistance  without  some  pangs  of  con- 
science, he  has  taken  the  only  course  open 
to  him  ;  he  has  despatched  myself  and  my 
brother  officers  here  " — O'Flaherty  glanced 
at  two  privates  dressed  up  in  his  regiment- 
als— "  to  offer  you  terms " 

O'Flaherty  paused  when  he  arrived  thus 
far,  expecting  that  the  opposite  party 
would  make  some  reply;  but  they  con- 
tinued silent  ;  when  suddenly,  from  the 
dense  forest,  there  rang  forth  a  wild  and 
savage  yell,  that  rose  and  fell  several  times, 
like  the  pibroch  of  the  Highlander,  and 
ended  at  last  in  a  loud  whoop,  that  was 
echoed  and  re-echoed  again  and  again  for 
several  seconds  after. 

"  Hark!"  said  O'Flaherty,  with  an  ac- 
cent of  horror.  "  Hark  !  the  war-cry  of 
the  Delawares  !  The  savages  are  eager  for 
their  prey.  May  it  yet  be  time  enough  to 
rescue  you  from  such  a  fate  !  Time  press- 
es— our  terms  are  these — as  they  do  not 
admit  of  discussion,  and  must  be  at  once 
accepted  or  rejected,  to  your  own  ear  alone 
can  I  impart  them." 

Saying  which,  he  took  Major  Brown 
aside,  and  walking  apart  from  the  others, 
led  him,  by  slow  steps,  into  the  forest. 
While  O'Flaherty  continued  to  dilate  upon 
the  atrocities  of  Indian  Avar,  and  the  re- 
vengeful character  of  the  savages,  he  con- 
trived to  be  always  advancing  toward  the 
river  side,  till  at  length  the  glare  of  a  fire 
was  perceptible  through  the  gloom.  Major 
Brown  stopped  suddenly,  and  pointed  in 
the  direction  of  the  flame. 

"It  is  the  Indian  picket,"  said  O'Flaher- 
ty, calmly  :  "  and  as  the  facts  I  have  been 
detailing  may  be  more  palpable  to  your 
mind,  you  shall  see  them  with  your  own 
eyes.  Yes,  I  repeat  it,  you  shall,  through 
the  cover  of  this  brushwood,  see  Caudan- 
dacwagae  himself — for  he  is  with  them  in 
person." 

As  O'Flaherty  said  this,  he  led  Major 
Brown,  now  speechless  with  terror,  behind 
a  massive  cork-tree,  from  which  spot  they 
could  look  down  upon  the  riverside,  where 
in  a  small  creek  sat  five  or  six  persons  in 
blankets  and  scarlet  head-dresses  ;  their 
faces  streaked  with  patches  of  yellow  and 
red  paint,  to  which  the  glare  of  the  fire 
lent  fresh  horror.  In  the  midst  sat  one 
whose  violent  gestures  and  savage  cries 
gave  him  the  very  appearance  of  a  demon, 


las  he  resisted  with  all  his  might  the  efforts 

of  the  others  to  restrain  him,  shouting  like' 
a  maniac  all  the  while,  and  struggling  to 
rise. 

'•It  is  the  chief;-  said  O'Flaherty  ;  "  he 
will  wait  no  longer.     We  have  bribed  the 
ot  hers    to    keep   him   quiet,   if  possible,  a 
little    tune  ;   but    I    sec    they  cai 
ceed." 

A  loud  yell  of  triumph  from  below  in- 
terrupted Tom's  speech.  The  infuriated 
savag<  —  who  was  no  other  than  Mr.  Malom- 
— having  obtained  the  rum  bottle,  for 
which  he  was  fighting  with  all  his  might  ; 
his  temper  nol  being  improved  in  the 
struggle  by  occasional  admonitions  from 
the  red  end  of  a  cigar,  applied  to  his  naked 
skin  by  the  other  Indians,  who  were  his 
own  soldiers  acting  under  O'Flaherty's  or- 
ders. 

"Now,"  said  Tom,  "that  you  have 
convinced  yourself,  and  can  satisfy 
your  brother  officers,  will  you  take  your 
chance  ?  or  will  you  accept  the  honorable 
terms  of  the  General — pile  your  arms,  and 
retreat  beyond  the  river  before  daybreak  ! 
Your  muskets  and  ammunition  will  offer 
a  bribe  to  the  cupidity  of  the  savage,  and 
delay  his  pursuit  till  you  can  reach  some 
place  of  safety." 

Major  Brown  heard  the  proposal  in  si- 
lence, and  at  last  determined  upon  consult- 
ing his  brother  officers. 

"  I  have  outstayed  my  time,"  said 
O'Flaherty;  "but  stop;  the  lives  of  so 
many  are  at  stake,  I  consent."  Saying 
which,  they  walked  on  without  speaking, 
till  they  arrived  where  the  others  were 
standing  around  the  watch-fire. 

As  Brown  retired  to  consult  with  the  of- 
ficers, Tom  heard  with  pleasure  how  much 
liis  two  companions  had  worked  upon  the 
Yankees'  fears  during  his  absence,  by  de- 
tails of  the  vindictive  feelings  of  the  Dela- 
wares, and  their  vows  to  annihilate  the 
Buffalo  militia. 

Before  five  minutes  they  had  decided. 
Upon  a  solemn  pledge  from  O'Flaherty 
that  the  terms  of  the  compact  were  to  be 
observed  as  he  stated  them,  they  agreed  to 
march  with  their  arms  to  the  ford,  where, 
having  piled  them,  they  were  to  cross 
over,  and  make  the  best  of  their  way 
home. 

By  sunrise  the  next  morning  ail-that  re- 
mained of  the  threatened  attack  on  Fort 
Peak  were  the  smouldering  ashes  of  some 
wood  fires — eighty  muskets  piled  in  the 
fort — and  the  yellow  ochre  and  red  stripes 
that  still  adorned  the  countenance  of  the 
late  Indian  chief — but  now  snoring  Lieu 
tenant — Maurice  Malone. 


196 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 


THE   COURIER  S   PASSPORT. 


A  second  night  succeeded  to  the  long 
dreary  da}  of  the  diligence,  and  the  only 
one  agreeable- reflection  arose  in  the  feeling 
that  every  mile  traveled  was  diminishing 
the  chance  of  pursuit,  and  removing  me 
still  further  from  that  scene  of  trouble  and 
annoyance  that  was  soon  to  furnish  gossip 
for  Paris — under  the  title  of  the  ►' Affaire 
O'Leary." 

How  he  was  ever  to  extricate  himself 
from  the  numerous  and  embarrassing  diffi- 
culties gave  me,  I  confess,  less  uneasiness 
than  the  uncertainty  of  my  own  fortunes. 
Luck  seemed  ever  to  befriend  him — me 
it  had  always  accompanied  far  enough 
through  life  to  make  its  subsequent  deser- 
tion more  painful.  How  far  I  should 
blame  myself  for  this,  I  stopped  not  to 
consider,  but  brooded  over  the  fact  in  a 
melancholy  and  discontented  mood.  The 
one  thought  uppermost  in  my  mind  Avas, 
How  will  Lady  Jane  receive  me — am  I  for- 
gotten— or  am  I  only  remembered  as  the 
subject  of  that  unlucky  mistake,  when, 
under  the  guise  of  an  elder  son,  I  was  feted 
and  made  much  of  ?  What  pretensions  I 
had,  without  fortune,  rank,  influence,  or 
even  expectations  of  any  kind,  to  seek  the 
hand  of  the  most  beautiful  girl  of  the  day, 
with  the  largest  fortune  as  her  dowry,  I 
dare  not  ask  myself — the  reply  would  have 
dashed  all  my  hopes,  and  my  pursuit  would 
have  at  once  been  abandoned.  "  Tell  the 
people  you  are  an  excellent  preacher,"  was 
the  advice  of  an  old  and  learned  divine  to 
a  younger  and  less  experienced  one — "  tell 
them  so  every  morning,  and  every  noon, 
and  every  evening,  and  at  last  they  will  be- 
gin to  believe  it."  "  So,"  thought  I,  "I 
shall  impress  upon  the  Callonbys  that  I  am 
a  most  unexceptionable  parti.  Upon  every 
occasion  they  shall  hear  it,  as  they  open 
their  newspapers  at  breakfast,  as  they  sip 
their  soup  at  luncheon,  as  they  adjust  their 
napkin  at  dinner,  as  they  chut  over  their 
wine  at  night.  My  influence  in  the  house 
shall  be  unbounded,  my  pleasures  consult- 
ed, my  dislikes  remembered.  The  people 
in  favor  with  me  shall  dine  there  three 
times  a  week — those  less  fortunate  shall  be 
put  into  schedule  B.  My  opinions  on  all 
subjects  shall  be  a  law,  whether  I  pro- 
nounce upon  politics,  or  discuss  a  dinner  : 
and  all  this  I  shall  accomplish  by  a  success- 
ful flattery  of  my  lady,  a  little  bullying  of 
my  lord,  a  devoted  attention  to  the  young- 
est sister,  a  special  cultivation  of  Kilkee, 
and  a  very  prononce  neglect  of  Lady  Jane." 


These  were  my  half-waking  thoughts,  as 
the  heavy  diligence  rumbled  over  the  pave" 
into  Nancy;  and  1  was  aroused  by  the 
door  being  suddenly  jerked  open,  and  a 
bronzed  lace,  with  a  black  heard  and  mous- 
tache, being  thrust  in  amongst  us. 

"  Your  passports,  messieurs  ?"  as  a  lan- 
tern was  held  up  in  succession  across  our 
face.-,  and  we  handed  forth  our  crumpled 
and  worn  papers  to  the  official. 

The  night  was  stormy  and  dark — gusts 
of  Avind  sweeping  along,  bearing  with 
them  the  tail  of  some  thunder-cloud — 
mingling  their  sounds  with  a  falling  tile 
from  the  roofs,  or  a  broken  chimney-pot. 
The  officer  in  vain  endeavored  to  hold  open 
the  passports  while  lie  inscribed  his  name  ; 
and  just  as  the  last  scrawl  was  completed, 
the  lantern  went  out.  Muttering  a  heavy 
curse  upon  the  weather,  he  thrust  them  in 
upon  us  en  wms.s'e,and,  hanging  the  door  to, 
called  out  to  the  conductor,  "En  route." 

Again  we  rumbled  on,  and,  ere  we  clear- 
ed the  last  lamps  of  the  town,  the  whole 
party  were  once  more  sunk  in  sleep,  save 
myself.  Hour  after  hour  rolled  by,  the 
rain  pattering  upon  the  roof,  and  the  heavy 
plash  of  the  horses'  feet  contributing  theii 
mournful  sounds  to  the  melancholy  that 
was  stealing  over  me.  At  length  we  drew 
up  at  the  door  of  a  little  inn,  and,  by  the 
noise  and  bustle  without,  I  perceived  there 
was  a  change  of  horses.  Anxious  to  stretch 
my  legs,  and  relieve,  if  even  for  a  moment, 
the  Avearisome  monotony  of  the  night,  I 
got  out,  and  strode  into  the  little  parlor  of 
the  inn.  There  Avas  a  cheerful  fire  in  an 
open  stove,  beside  which  stood  a  portly  fig- 
ure in  a  sheepskin  bunta  and  a  cloth  trav- 
eling cap,  Avith  a  gold  band  ;  his  legs  Avere 
cased  in  high  Russia  leather  boots,  all  evi- 
dent signs  of  the  profession  of  the  Avearer, 
had  even  his  haste  at  supper  not  bespoke 
the  fact  that  he  Avas  a  government  courier. 

"  You  had  better  make  haste  with  the 
horses,  Antoine,  if  you  don't  Avish  the  post- 
master to  hear  of  it,"- said  he,  as  I  entered, 
his  mouth  filled  Avith  pie  crust  and  vin  de 
Beaune,  as  he  spoke. 

A  lumbering  peasant,  with  a  blouse, 
sabots,  and  a  striped  nightcap,  replied  in 
some  unknown  patois  ;  Avhen  the  courier 
again  said, — 

"  Well,  then,  take  the  diligence  horses  ; 
I  must  get' on,  at  all  events  ;  they  are  not 
so  hurried,  I'll  be  bound  ;  besides,  it  will 
save  the  gendarmes  some  miles  of  a  ride  if 
they  overtake  them  here." 

"  Have  Ave  another  vise  of  our  passports 
here,  then  ?  "  said  1,  addressing  the  courier, 
"for  Ave  have  already  been  examined  at 
Nancy." 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


197 


"Not  exactly  a  visS"  said  the  courier, 
eyeing  mo  most  suspiciously  as  he  spoke, 
and  then  continuing  to  eat  with  his  former 
veracity. 

"Then  what,  may  I  ask,  have  we  to  do 
with  the  gendarmes  ?" 

"It  is  a  search,"  said  the  courier,  gruffly, 
and  with  the  air  of  one  who  desired  no 
further  questioning. 

I  immediately  ordered  a  bottle  of  Bur- 
gundy, and  filling  a  large  goblet  before 
him,  said,  with  much  respect. — 

"A  votre  bon  voyage,  Monsieur  le  Cou- 
rier. " 

To  this  he  at  once  replied,  by  taking  off 
his  cap  and  bowing  politely  as  he  drank 
off  the  wine. 

"  Have  we  any  runaway  felon  or  stray 
galley  slave  among  us,"  said  I,  laughingly, 
''that  they  are  going  to  search  us  ?  " 

"No,  Monsieur,"  said  the  courier; 
""but  there  has  been  a  government  order 
to  arrest  a  person  on  this  road  connected 
with  the  dreadful  Polish  plot  that  has  just 
eclated  at  Paris.  I  passed  a  vidctte  of 
cavalry  at  Nancy,  and  they  will  be  up  here 
in  half  an  hour." 

"A  Polish  plot !  Why,  I  left  Paris  only 
two  days  ago,  and  never  heard  of  it." 

"Cost  bien  possible,  Monsieur?  Per- 
haps, after  all,  it  may  only  be  an  affair  of 
the  police  ;  but  they  have  certainly  arrest- 
ed one  prisoner  at  Meurice,  charged  with 
this,  as  well  as  the  attempt  to  rob  Frascati, 
and  murder  the  croupier. " 

"  Alas,"  said  I,  with  a  half-suppressed 
groan,  "  it  is  too  true  ;  that  infernal  fellow, 
O'Leary,  has  ruined  me,  and  I  shall  be 
brought  back  to  Paris,  and  only  taken 
from  prison  to  meet  the  open  shame  and 
disgrace  of  a  public  trial." 

What  was  to  be  done  ? — every  moment 
was  precious.  I  walked  to  the  door  to 
conceal  my  agitation.  All  was  dark  and 
gloomy.  The  thought  of  escape  was  my 
only  one ;  but  how  .to  accomplish  it  ? 
Every  stir  without  suggested  to  my  anx- 
ious mind  the  approaching  tread  of  horses 
— every  rattle  of  the  harness  seemed  like 
the  clink  of  accoutrements. 

While  I  yet  hesitated,  I  felt  that  my 
fate  was  in  the  balance.  Concealment 
where  I  was,  was  impossible  ;  there  wore 
no  means  of  obtaining  horses  to  proceed. 
My  last  only  hope  then  rested  in  the 
courier  ;  he,  perhaps,  might  be  bribed  to 
assist  me  at  this  juncture.  Still  his  im- 
pression as  to  the  enormity  of  the  crime 
imputed,  might  deter  him  ;  and  there  was 
no  time  for  explanation,  if  even  he  would 
listen  to  it.  I  returned  to  the  room  ;  he 
had  finished  his  meal,  and  was  now  en- 


gaged m  all  the  preparaijnwa  for  encoun- 
tering a  wet  and  dreary  night.  I  hesitated  ; 
my  fears  thai  if  he  should  rel'use  mj  offers, 
ali  chance  of  my  escape  was  gone,  deterred 
me  for  a  moment.  At  Length,  a  he-wound 
a  large  woolen  shawl  around  bis  throat, 
and  seemed  to  have  completed  his  cos- 
tume, I  summoned  nerve  for  tr>e  effort, 
and  with  as  liiueh  boldness  in  my  manner 
as  I  could  muster,  said. — 

"Monsieur  le  Courier,  one  word  with 
you."  I  here  closed  the  door.  a>\l  con- 
tinued :  "  My  fori  tines,  my  whole  proi  ]>ects 
in  life,  depend  upon  my  reaching  Stras- 
bourg by  to-morrow  night.  You aion<  can 
be  the  means  of  my  doing  so.  Is  there 
any  price  you  can  mention  for  which  you 
will  render  me  this  service  ? — if  so,  name 
it." 

"So,  then,  Monsieur,"  said  the  courier, 
slowly,  "so,  then,  you  are  the " 

"You  have  guessed  it,"  said  I,  inter- 
rupting.     "Do  you  accept  my  proposal." 

"It  is  impossible,"  said  he,  "utterly 
impossible,  for  even  should  I  be  disposed! 
to  run  the  risk  on  my  own  account,  ^ 
would  avail  you  nothing;  the  first  towr 
we  entered,  your  passport  would  be  da- 
manded,  and  not  being  vised  by  the  min- 
ister to  travel  en  courier  you  would 'a* 
once  be  detained  and  arrested." 

"  Then  am  I  lost,"  said  I,  throwing  my- 
self upon  a  chair  ;  at  the  same  instant  my 
passport,  which  I  carried  in  my  breast- 
pocket, fell  out  at  the  feet  of  the  courier. 
He  lifted  it  and  opened  it  leisurely.  So 
engrossed  was  I  by  my  misfortunes,  that 
for  some  minutes  I  did  not  perceive  that, 
as  he  continued  to  read  the  passport,  he 
smiled  from  time  to  time  till  at  length  a 
hearty  fit  of  laughing  awoke  me  from  my 
abstraction.  My  first  impulse  was  to  seize 
him  by  the  throat ;  controlling  my  tem- 
per, however,  with  an  effort,  I  said, — 

"  And  pray,  Monsieur,  may  I  ask  in 
Avhat  manner  the  position  I  stand  in  at 
this  moment  affords  you  so  much  amuse- 
ment ?  Is  there  anything  so  particular- 
ly droll — anything  so  excessively  ludicrous 
in  my  situation— or  what  particular  gift  do 
you  possess  that  shall  prevent  me  throwing 
you  out  of  the  window  ?" 

"Mais,  Monsieur,"  said  he,  half  stifled 
with  laughter,  "do  you  know  the  blunder 
I  fell  into  ?  it  is  really  too  good.  Could  you 
only  guess  whom  I  took  you  for^  you  would 
laugh  too." 

Here  he  became  so  overcome  with  merri- 
ment, that  he  was  obliged  to  sit  down. 
which  he  did  opposite  to  me,  and  actually 
shook  with  laughter. 

••  When  this  comedy  is  over,"  thought  I, 


198 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


"we  mayoegin  to  understand  each  other." 
Seeing  no  prospect  of  thus,  I  became  at 
length  impatient,  and  jumping  on  my  legs, 
said, — 

"  Enough,  sir.  quite  enough  of  this  Fool- 
ery. Believe  me,  you  have  every  reason  to 
be  thankful  that  my  present  embarrass- 
ment should  so  far  engross  me,  that  I  can- 
not afford  time  to  give  you  a  thrashing. " 

"Pardon,  mille  pardons,"  said  he, 
humbly,  "  but  you  will,  I  am  sure,  forgive 
me  when  I  tell  you  that  I  was  stupid 
enough  to  mistake  you  for  the  fugitive 
Englishman,  whom  the  gendarmes  are  in 
pursuit  of.     How  good,  eh  ?" 

"  Oh  !  devilish  good — but  what  do  you 
mean  ?" 

"Why,  the  fellow  that  caused  the  attack 
at  Frascati,  and  all  that,  and " 

"Yes — well,  eh  ?  Did  you  think  I  was 
he?" 

"  To  be  sure  I  did,  till  1  saw  your  pass- 
port. " 

"  Till  you  saw  my  passport !  — Why,  what 
on  earth  can  he  mean  ?  "  thought  I. — "  No, 
but,"  said  I,  half  jestingly,  "how  could 
you  make  such  a  blunder  ?  " 

"Why,  your  confused  manner — your 
impatience  to  get  on — your  hurried  ques- 
tions, all  convinced  me.  In  fact,  I'd  have 
wagered  anything  you  were  the  English- 
man. " 

"  And  what,  in  Heaven's  name,  does  he 
think  me  now  ?"  thought  I,  as  I  endeavor- 
ed to  join  the  laugh  so  ludicrous  a  mistake 
occasioned. 

"But  we  are  delaying  sadly,"  said  the 
courier.     "Are  you  ready  ?  " 

"  Ready  ? — ready  for  what  ?  " 

"To  go  on  with  me,  of  course.  Don't 
you  wish  to  get  early  to  Strasbourg  ?  " 

"To  be  sure  I  do." 

"  Well,  then,  come  along.  But,  pray 
don't  mind  your  luggage,  for  my  caleche  is 
loaded.  Your  instruments  can  come  in  the 
diligence." 

"  My  instruments  in  the  diligence  !  He's 
mad — that's  flat." 

"  How  they  will  laugh  at  Strasbourg  at 
my  mistake." 

"That  they  will,"  thought  I.  "The 
only  doubt  is,  will  you  join  in  the  merri- 
ment ?" 

So  saying,  I  followed  the  courier  to  the 
door,  jumped  into  his  caleche,  and  in 
another  moment  was  hurrying  over  the 
pave  at  a  pace  that  defied  pursuit,  and 
promised  soon  to  make  up  for  all  our  late 
delay.  Scarcely  was  the  fur-lined  apron  of 
the  caleche  buttoned  around  me,  and  the 
German  blinds  let  down,  when  I  set  to 
work  to  think  over  the  circumstance  that 


had  just  befallen  me.  As  I  had  never  ex- 
amined ni\  passport  from  the  moment 
Trevanion  handed  it  to  meat  Paris,  1  knew 
nothing  of  its  contents;  therefore,  as  to 
what  impression  it  tnighi  convey  of  me,  I 
was  totally  ignorant.  To  ask  the  courier 
for  it  now  might,  excite  suspicion  ;  so  that 
I  was  totally  at,  sea  how  to  account  for  his 
sudden  change  in  my  favor,  or  in  what  pre- 
cise capacity  I  was  traveling  beside  him. 
Once,  and  once  only,  the  thought  of 
treachery  occurred  to  me.  "  Is  he  about  to 
hand  me  over  to  the  gendarmes  ?  and  are 
we  now  only  retracing  our  steps  toward 
Nancy  ?  If  so,  Monsieur  le  Courier,  what- 
ever be  my  fate,  yours  is  certainly  an  un- 
enviable one."  My  reflections  on  this  head 
were  soon  broken  in  upon,  for  my  compan- 
ion again  returned  to  the  subject  of  his 
"singular  error,"  and  assured  me  that  he 
was  as  near  as  possible  leaving  me  behind, 
under  the  mistaken  impression  of  my  beiftg 
' '  myself  ;  "  and  informed  me  that  all  Stras- 
bourg would  be  delighted  to  see  me,  which 
latter  piece  of  news  was  only  the  more  flat- 
tering, that  I  knew  no  one  there,  nor  had 
ever  been  in  that  city  in  my  life  ;  and  after 
about  an  hour's  mystification  as  to  my 
tastes,  habits,  and  pursuits,  he  fell  fast 
asleep,  leaving  me  to  solve  the  difficult 
problem  as  to  whether  I  was  not  somebody 
else,  or,  the  only  alternative — whether 
traveling  en  courier  might  not  be  prescrib- 
ed by  physicians  as  a  mode  of  treating  in- 
sane patients. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 


A   NIGHT   IN   STRASBOURG. 


With  the  dawn  of  clay  my  miseries  re- 
commenced ;  for  after  letting  down  the 
sash,  and  venting  some  very  fervent  impre- 
cations upon  the  postilion  for  not  going 
faster  than  his  horses  were  able,  the  courier 
once  more  recurred  to  his  last  night's  blun- 
der, and  proceeded  very  leisurely  to  cate- 
chize me  as  to  my  probable  stay  at  Stras- 
bourg, whither  I  should  go  from  thence, 
and  so  on.  As  I  was  still  in  doubt  what 
or  whom  he  took  me  for,  I  answered  with 
the  greatest  circumspection  —  watching, 
the  while,  for  any  clue  that  might  lead  me 
to  a  discovery  of  myself.  Thus  occasion- 
ally evading  all  pushing  and  home  queries, 
and  sometimes,  when  hard  pressed,  feign- 
ing drowsiness,  I  passed  the  long  and  anx- 
ious day — the  fear  of  being  overtaken  ever 
mingling  with  the  thoughts  that  some  un- 
lucky admission  of  mine  might  discover 
my  real  character   to  the  courier,  who,  at 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


199 


any  post  station,  might  hand  me  over  to 
the  authorities.  "Could  I  only  guess  al 
the  part  I  am  performing,"  thought  I, 
"  and  I  might  manage  to  keep  up  the  illu- 
sion ;"  hut  my  attention  was  so  entirely 
engrossed  by  fencing  off  all  Ins  thrusts, 
that  I  could  find  out  nothing.  At  last,  as 
night  drew  near,  the  thought  that  we  were 
approaching  Strasbourg  rallied  my  spirits, 
suggesting  an  escape  from  all  pursuit,  as 
well  as  the  welcome  prospect  of  getting 
rid  of  my  present  torturer,  who,  whenever 
I  awoke  from  a  doze,  reverted  to  our  sin- 
gular meeting  with  a  pertinacity  that  ab- 
solutely seemed  like  malice. 

"  As  I  am  aware  that  this  is  your  first 
visit  to  Strasbourg,"  said  the  courier, 
"  perhaps  I  can  be  of  service  to  you  in  re- 
commending an  hotel.  Put  up,  I  advise 
you,  at  the  '  Bear ' — a  capital  hotel,  and 
not  ten  minutes'  distance  from  the  the- 
atre." 

I  thanked  him  for  the  counsel ;  and,  re- 
joicing in  the  fact  that  my  prototype,  who- 
ever he  might  be,  was  unknown  in  the 
city,  began  to  feel  some  little  hope  of  get- 
ting through  this  scrape,  as  I  had  done  so 
many  others. 

"  They  have  been  keeping  the  '  Hugue- 
nots '  for  your  arrival,  and  all  Strasbourg 
is  impatient  for  your  coming." 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  I,  mumbling  something 
meant  to  be  modest.  "  Who  the  devil  am 
I,  then,  to  cause  all  this  fracas  ?  Heaven 
grant,  not  the  now  '  prefect,'  or  the  com- 
mander of  the  forces." 

"I  am  told  the  'Zauberflbte'  is  your 
favorite  opera  ?  " 

"  I  can't  say  that  I  ever  heard  it — that 
is,  I  mean  that  I  could  say — well  got  up." 

Here  I  floundered  on,  having  so  far  for- 
got myself  as  to  endanger  everything. 

"  How  very  unfortunate  !  Well,  I  hope 
you  will  not  long  have  as  much  to  say. 
Meanwhile,  here  Ave  are  —  this  is  the 
'Bear.'" 

We  rattled  into  the  ample  porfe  cochere 
of  a  vast  hotel,  the  postilion  cracking  his 
enormous  whip,  and  bells  ringing  on  every 
side,  as  if  the  Crown  Prince  of  Russia  had 
been  the  arrival,  and  not  a  poor  sub.  in  the 
4— th. 

The  courier  jumped  out,  and  running 
up  to  the  landlord,  whispered  a  few  words 
m  his  ear,  to  which  the  other  answered  by  a 
deep  ■'  Ah,  vraiment ! '  and  then  saluted 
me  with  an  obsequiousness  that  made  my 
flesh  quake. 

"I  shall  make 'mes  hommages'  in  the 
morning,"  said  the  courier,  as  he  drove  oft 
at  full  speed  to  deliver  his  dispatches,  and 
left  me  to  my  own  devices  to  perforin  a 


character,  without  even  being  able  to  guess 
what  it  might  be.  My  passport,  too,  the 
only  tiling  that  could  throw  any  ligh  I  upon 
the  affair,  he  had  taken  along  with  him, 
promising  to  have  it  vised,  and  save  me 
any  l  rouble. 

Of  all  my  difficulties  and  puzzling  situa- 
tions in  life,  this  was  certainly  tin-  5701 
for  however  often  my  lot  had  been  to  per- 
sonate another,  yel  hitherto  I  had  had  the 
good  fortune  to  be  aware  of  whal  and 
whom  I  was  performing.  Now  I  might 
anybody,  from  Marshal  Soult  to  Monsieur 
Scribe  ;  one  thing  only  was  certain.  I  must 
be  a  ''Celebrity."  The  confounded  pains 
and  trouble  they  were  taking  to  receive  me, 
attested  that  fact,  and  left  me  to  the  pli 
ing  reflection  that  my  detection,  should  it 
take  place,  would  be  sure  of  attracting 
very  general  publicity.  Having  ordered 
my  supper  from  the  landlord,  with  a  cer- 
tain air  of  reserve,  sufficient  to  prevent 
even  an  Alsace  host  from  obtruding  any 
questions  upon  me,  I  took  my  opportunity 
to  stroll  from  the  inn  down  fco  the  river 
side.  There  lay  the  broad,  rapid  Rhine, 
separating  me,  by  how  narrow  a  limit, 
from  that  land,  where,  if  I  once  arrived, 
my  p  safety  was  certain.  Never  did  that 
great  boundary  of  nations  strike  me  so 
forcibly  as  now  when  my  own  petty  inter- 
ests and  fortunes  were  at  stake.  Night 
was  fast  settling  upon  the  low,  flat  banks 
of  the  stream,  and  nothing  stirred,  save 
the  ceaseless  ripple  of  the  river.  One  fish- 
ing bark  alone  was  on  the  water.  I  hailed 
the  solitary  tenant  of  it,  and  after  some 
little  parley,  induced  him  to  ferry  me  over. 
This,  however,  could  only  be  done  when 
the  night  was  farther  advanced — it  being 
against  the  law  to  cross  the  river  except  at 
certain  hours,  and  between  two  established 
points,  where  officers  of  the  revenue  were 
stationed.  The  fisherman  was  easily  bribed, 
however,  to  evade  the  regulation,  and  only 
bargained  that  I  should  meet  him  on  the 
bank  before  daybreak.  Having  settled  this 
point  to  my  satisfaction,  I  returned  to  my 
hotel  in  better  spirits  ;  and  with  a  Stras- 
bourg pate,  and  a  flask  of  Nierensteiner, 
drank  to  my  speedy  deliverance. 

How  to  consume  the  long,  dreary  hours 
between  this  time  and  that  of  my  depar- 
ture, I  knew  not  ;  for  though  greatly 
fatigued,  I  felt  that  sleep  was  impossible  ; 
the  usual  resource  of  a  gossip  with  the 
host  was  equally  out  of  the  question  ;  and 
all  that  remained  was  the  theatre,  which  I 
happily  remembered  was  not  far  from  the 
hotel. 

It  was  an  opera  night,  and  the  house 
was  crowded  to  excess ;    but   with   some 


200 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


little  management,  I  obtained  a  place  in  a 
box  near  the  stage.  The  piece  was  "  Les 
Francs  Macons,"  which  was  certainly  ad- 
mirably supported,  and  drew  down  from 
the  audience — no  mean  one  as  judges  of 
music — the  loudest  thunders  of  applause. 
As  for  me,  the  house  was  as  great  a  curi- 
osity as  the  opera.  The  novel  spectacle  of 
some  hundred  people  relishing  and  appre- 
ciating the  highest  order  of  musical  genius, 
was  something  totally  new  and  surprising 
to  me.  The  curtain  at  length  fell  upon 
the  fifth  act — and  now  the  deafening  roar 
of  acclamation  was  tremendous  ;  and  amid 
a  perfect  shout  of  enthusiasm,  the  mana- 
ger announced  the  opera  for  the  ensuing 
evening.  Scarcely  had  this  subsided,  when 
a  buzz  ran  through  the  house ;  at  first 
subdued,  but  gradually  getting  louder — 
extending  from  the  boxes  to  the  balcony — 
from  the  balcony  to  the  parterre — and 
finally  even  to  the  galleries.  Groups  of 
people  stood  upon  the  benches,  and  looked 
fixedly  m  one  part  of  the  house  ;  then 
changed  and  regarded  as  eagerly  the 
other.    * 

What  can  this  mean  ?  thought  I.  Is  the 
theatre  on  fire  ?  Something  surely  lias 
gone  wrong  ! 

In  this  conviction,  with  the  contagious 
spirit  of  curiosity,  I  mounted  upon  a  seat, 
and  looked  about  me  on  every  side  ;  but 
unable  still  to  catch  the  object  which 
seemed  to  attract  the  rest,  as  I  was  about 
to  resume  my  place,  my  eyes  fell  upon  a 
well-known  face,  which  in  an  instant  I  re- 
membered was  that  of  my  late  fellow-trav- 
eler, the  courier.  Anxious  to  avoid  his 
recognition,  I  attempted  to  get  down  at 
once  ;  but  before  I  could  accomplish  it, 
the  wretch  had  perceived  and  ,  recognized 
me  ;  and  I  saw  him,  even  with  a  gesture 
of  delight,  point  me  out  to  some  friends 
beside  him. 

''Confound  the  fellow,"  muttered  I ;  "I 
must  leave  this  at  once,  or  I  shall  be  in- 
volved in  some  trouble." 

Scarcely  was  my  resolve  taken,  when  a 
new  burst  of  voices  arose  from  the  pit — 
the  words  "  L'Auteur  !  "  mingling  with 
loud  cries  for  "  Meyerbeer! "  "  Meyerbeer! " 
to  appear.  "So,"  thought  I,  "it  seems 
the  great  composer  is  here.  Oh,  by  Jove  ! 
I  must  have  a  pee})  at  him  before  I  go." 
So,  leaning  over  the  front  rail  of  the  box, 
I  looked  anxiously  about  to  catch  one 
hasty  glimpse  of  one  of  the  great  men  of 
his  day  and  country.  What  was  my  sur- 
prise, however,  to  perceive  that  about  two 
thousand  eyes  were  firmly  riveted  upon 
the  box  I  was  seated  in  ;  while  about  half 
the  number  of  tongues  called   out  unceas- 


ingly, "  Mr.  Meyerbeer! — vive  Meyerbeer ! 
vive  I'Auteur  <\^>  Francs  Macons  ! — vive 
les  Francs  Macons!"  etc.  Before  I  could 
turn  to  look  for  the  hero  of  the  scene,  my 
legs  were  taken  from  under  me,  and  I  fell 
myself  lifted  by  several  strong  men  and 
held  out  in  front  of  the  box,  while  the 
whole  audience,  rising  en  masse,  saluted 
me — yes  me,  Harry  Lorrequer — with  a 
cheer  that  shook  the  building.  Fearful  of 
precipitating  myself  into  the  pit  beneath 
if  I  made  the  least  effort,  and  half  wild 
with  terror  and  amazement,!  stared  about 
like  a  maniac,  while  a  beautiful  young 
woman  tripped  along  the  edge  of  the  box, 
supported  by  her  companion's  hand,  and 
placed  lightly  upon  my  brow  a  chaplet  of 
roses  and  laurel.  Here  the  applause  was 
like  an  earthquake. 

"May  the  devil  fly  away  with  half  of 
yon,"  was  my  grateful  response  to  as  full  a 
cheer  of  applause  as  ever  the  walls  of  the 
house  re-echoed  to. 

"  On  the  stage — on  the  stage  !"  shouted 
that  portion  of  the  audience  who,  occupy- 
ing the  same  side  of  the  house  as  myself, 
preferred  having  a  better  view  of  me  ;  and 
to  the  stage  I  was  accordingly  hurried, 
down  a  narrow  stair,  through  a  side  scene, 
and  over  half  the  corps  de  ballet  who  were 
waiting  for  their  entree.  Kicking,  plung- 
ing, buffeting  like  a  madman,  they  carried 
me  to  the  "flats,"  when  the  manager  led 
me  forward  to  the  foot-lights,  my  wreath 
of  flowers  contrasting  rather  ruefully  with 
my  bruised  cheeks  and  torn  habiliments. 
Human  beings,  God  be  praised  !  are  only 
capable  of*  certain  efforts — so  that  one-half 
the  audience  were  coughing  their  sides 
out,  while  the  other  were  hoarse  as  bull- 
frogs from  their  enthusiasm  in  less  than 
five  minutes. 

"You'll  have  what  my  friend  Kooney 
calls  a  chronic  bronchitis  for  these  three 
weeks,"  said- 1,  "  that's  one  comfort,"  as  I 
bowed  my  back  to  the  "practicable"  door, 
through  which  I  made  my  exit,  with  the 
thousand  faces  of  the  parterre  shouting 
my  name,  or,  as  fancy  dictated,  that  of 
one  of  my  operas.  I  retreated  behind  the 
scenes  to  encounter  very  nearly  as  much, 
and  at  closer  quarters,  too,  as  that  lately 
sustained  before  the  audience.  After  an 
embrace  of  two  minutes'  duration  from 
the  manager,  I  ran  the  gauntlet  from  the 
prima  donna  to  the  last  triangle  of  the 
orchestra,  who  cut  away  a  back  button  of 
my  coat  as  a  souvenir.  During  all  this,  I 
must  confess,  very  little  acting  was  needed 
on  my  part.  They  were  so  perfectly  con- 
tented with  their  self-deception,  that  if  I 
had  made  an  affidavit  before  the  mayor— 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


201 


i'f  there  be  such  a  functionary  in  such  an 
insane  town — they  would  no!  have  believed 
me.  Wearied  and  exhausted  at  length  by 
all  I  had  gone  through,  I  sat  down  upon  a 
bench,  and,  affecting  to  be  overcome  by 
my  feelings,  concealed  my  face  in  my 
handkerchief.  This  was  the  first  moment 
of  relief  1  experienced  since  my  arrival  : 
but  it  was  not  to  last  long,  for  the  man- 
ager, putting  down  his  head  close  to  lin- 
ear, whispered, — 

".Monsieur  Meyerbeer,  I  have  a  surprise 
for  you,  such  as  you  have  not  had  lor 
some  time,  1  venture  to  say." 

"I  defy  you  on  this  head,"  thought  I. 
''If  they  make  me  out  King  Solomon  now, 
it  will  not  amaze  me." 

"And  when  I  tell  you  my  secret,"  con- 
tinued he,  "you  will  acknowledge  I  cannot 
be  of  a  very  jealous  disposition.  Madame 
Baptiste  has  just  told  mo  she  knew  you 
formerly,  and  that  she — that  is  you — were, 
in  fact — you  understand — there  had  been 
— so  to  say — a  little  something  between 
you." 

I  groaned  in  spirit  as  I  thought,  "  Now 
am  I  lost  without  a  chance  of  escape — the 
devil  take  her  reminiscences  !" 

"I  see,"  continued  h  bon  mari,  '"you 
cannot  guess  of  whom  I  speak  ;  but  when 
I  tell  you  of  Amelie  Grandet,  your  mem- 
ory will,  perhaps,  be  better." 

"Amelie  Grandet ! "  said  I,  with  a  stage 
start.  I  need  not  say  that  I  had  never 
heard  the  name  before — "Amelie  Grandet 
here  ! " 

"  Yes,  that  she  is,"  said  the  manager, 
rubbing  his  hands  ;  "and  my  wife,  too." 

"  Married  ! — Amelie  Grandet  married  ! 
No,  no,  it  is  impossible — I  cannot  believe 
it.  But  were  it  true — true,  mark  me — for 
worlds  would  I  not  meet  her." 

"  Comme  il  est  drole,"  said  the  manager, 
soliloquizing  aloud  ;  "for  my  wife  takes 
it  much  easier,  seeing  they  never  met  each 
other  since  they  were  fifteen." 

'•Ho,  ho!"  thought  I,  "the  affair  is 
not  so  bad  either ;  time  makes  great 
changes  in  that  space.  And  does  she  still 
remember  me  ?"  said  I,  in  a  very  Romeo- 
in-the-garden  voice. 

"  Why,  so  far  as  remembering  the  little 
boy  that  used  to  play  with  her  in  the 
orchard  at  her  mother's  cottage  near  Pirna, 
and  with  whom  she  used  to  go  boating 
upon  the  Elbe,  I  believe  the  recollection 
is  perfect.  But  come  along,  she  insists 
upon  seeing  you,  and  is  at  this  very  mo- 
ment waiting  supper  in  our  room  for 
you." 

"A  thorough  German  she  must  be," 
thought  I,  "  with  her  sympathies  and  her 


-upper,  her  rcminh<"'ence~  and  her  Rhine 
wine  hunting  in  couples  through  her 
brain." 

Summoning   courage    from   the    j';i, 
our  long  abs*  nee   from   each  ol her,  I  fol- 
lowed  the  manager  through  a  wilder] 
of  pavilions,  fores!  -.  clouds,  and  catara 
and  at   length  arrived  ;it    a  little  door,  at 
which  he  knocked  gently. 

•■  <  'ome    in,*'    said     a     soft     voice     j 

Wc  opened,  and    beheld   a    very  beautiful 

young  woman   in  Tyrolese  costume. 

was  to  perform  in  the  afterpiece,  her  low 

bodice  and  sh or!  scarlet  petticoat  display- 
ing the  most  perfect  symmetry  of  form 
and  roundness  of  proportion.  She  was 
dressing  her  hair  before  a  low  glass  as  we 
came  in,  and  scarcely  turned  a!  our  ap- 
proach ;  but  in  an  instant,  as  if  some  -1  cf- 
den  thought  struck  her,  she  sprang  fully 
round,  and  looking  at  me  fixedly  for;;! 
a  minute — a  very  trying  one  for  me — she 
glanced  at  her  husband,  whose  counten- 
ance plainly  indicated  that  she  was  right, 
and  calling  out  '  C'cst  lui — e'estbien  lui  ! ' 
threw  herself  into  my  arms,  and  sobbed 
convulsively. 

"  If  this  were  to  be  the  only  fruits  of 
my  impersonation,"  thought  I,  "it  is  not 
so  bad  ;  but  I  am  greatly  afraid  these  good 
people  will  find  out  a  wife  and  seven  ba- 
bies for  me  before  morning." 

WThether  the  manager  thought  that 
enough  had  been  done  for  stage  eff<  ct,  I 
know  not  ;  but  he  gently  disengaged  the 
lovely  Amelie,  and  deposited  her  upon  a 
sofa,  to  a  place  upon  which  she  speedily 
motioned  me  by  a  look  from  a  pair  of  very 
seducing  blue  eyes. 

"  Francois,  mon  cher,  you  must  put  oft' 
'  La  Chaumiere. '     I  can't  play  to-night." 

"  Put  it  off  !  But  only  think  of  the  au- 
dience, ma  mie — they  will  pull  down  the 
house." 

"C est  possible,"  said  she,  carelessly. 
"  If  that  give  them  any  pleasure,  I  suppose 
they  must  be  indulged  ;  but  I.  too,  must 
have  a  little  of  my  own  way.  1  shall  not 
play  ! " 

The  tone  this  was  said  in — the  look — 
the  easy  gesture  of  command — no  less  than 
the  afflicted  helplessness  of  the  luckless 
husband — showed  me  that  Amelie.  how- 
ever docile  as  a  sweetheart,  had  certainly 
her  own  way  as  wife. 

While  le  cher  Francois  then  retired  to 
make  his  proposition  to  the  audience,  of 
substituting  something  for  the  "Chau- 
miere"— the  "  sudden  illness  of  Madame 
Baptiste  having  prevented  her  appear- 
ance " — we  began  to  renew  our  old  ac- 
quaintance by  a  thousand  inquiries  into 


X02, 


CHARLES  LEVEE'S  WORKS. 


that  long-past  time  Avhen  we  Averc  sweet- 
hearts  and  lovers. 

"You  remember  me  then  so  well?" 
said  I. 

"As  of  yesterday.  You  are  much  taller, 
and  your  eyes  darker;  but  still  there  is 
something — ■ —  You  know,  however,  I 
have  been  expecting  to  see  yon  these  two 
days,  and  tell  me  frankly  how  do  you  find 
me  looking  ?  " 

"  More  beautiful,  a  thousand  times  more 
beautiful,  than  ever — all  save  one  thing, 
Amelie " 

"And  that  is ?" 

"You  are  married." 

"How  you  jest.  But  let  us  look  hack. 
Do  you  ever  think  on  any  of  our  old  com- 
pacts ?  "  Here  she  pulled  a  leaf  from  a 
.rosebud  in  her  boucpiet,  and  kissed  it.  "I 
wager  you  have  forgotten  that.'" 

How  I  should  have  replied  to  this  ma- 
sonic sign.  Heaven  knows  ;  but  the  man- 
ager fortunately  entered,  to  assure  us  that 
the  audience  had  kindly  consented  not  to 
pull  down  the  house,  but  to  listen  to  a 
five-act  tragedy  instead,  in  which  he  had 
to  2^erform  the  principal  character.  "  So, 
then,  doirt  wait  supper,  Amelie  ;  but  take 
care  of  Monsieur  Meyerbeer  till  my  re- 
turn." 

Thus  once  more  were  we  left  to  our  sou- 
venirs, in  which,  whenever  hard  pushed 
myself,  I  regularly  carried  the  war  into  the 
enemy's  camp,  by  allusions  to  incidents 
which,  I  need  not  observe,  had  never  oc- 
curred. After  a  thousand  stories  of  our 
early  loves,  mingled  with  an  occasional 
sigh  over  their  fleeting  character — now 
indulging  a  soft  retrospect  of  the  once 
happy  past,  now  moralizing  on  the  future 
— Amelie  and  I  chatted  away  the  hours 
till  the  conclusion  of  the  tragedy. 

By  this  time  the  hour  was  approaching 
for  my  departure  ;  so,  after  a  very  tender 
leave-taking  with  my  new  friend  and  my 
old  love,  I  left  the  theatre,  and  walked 
slowly  along  to  the  river. 

"So  much  for  early  associations," 
thought  I ;  "  and  how  much  better  pleased 
are  we  ever  to  paint  the  past  according  to 
our  own  fancy,  than  to  remember  it  as  it 
really  was.  Hence  all  the  insufferable  cant 
about  happy  infancy,  and  '  the  glorious 
schoolboy  days,'  which  have  generally  no 
more  foundation  in  fact  than  have  the 
'Chateaux  en  Espagne '  we  build  up  for 
the  future.  I  wager  that  the  real  Amant 
d'Enfance,  when  he  arrives,  is  not  half  so 
great  a  friend  with  the  fair  Amelie  as  his 
unworthy  shadow.  At  the  same  time,  I 
had  just  as  soon  that  Lady  Jane  should 
have  no  'early  xoves'  to  look  back  upon, 


except  such  as  I  have  performed  a  charac- 
ter  in." 

The  plash  of  oars  near  me  broke  my  re- 
flections, and  the  next  momenl  found  me 
skimming  the  rapid  Rhine,  as  I  thought 
for  the  last  time,  "  What  will  the\  say  in 
Strasbourg  to-morrow  ?  How  will  they 
aecouni  for  the  mysterious  disappearance 
of  Monsieur  Meyerbeer?  Poor  Amelie 
Grandet  !  "  for  so  completely  had  the  late 
incidents  engrossed  my  attention,  that  I 
had  for  the  moment  lost  sight  of  the  most 
singula]-  event  of  all — how  I  came  to  be 
mistaken  for  the  illustrious  composer. 


CHAPTER  L. 


A   SURPRISE. 


It  was  late  upon  the  following  day  ere  I 
awoke  from  the  long  deep  sleep  that  closed 
my  labors  in  Strasbourg.  In  the  confusion 
of  my  waking  thoughts,  I  imagined  myself 
still  before  a  crowded  and  enthusiastic  au- 
dience— the  glare  of  the  footlights — the 
crash  of  the  orchestra — the  shouts  of 
"UAuteur!"  "UAuteur!"  were  all  be- 
fore me,  and  so  completely  possessed  me, 
that,  as  the  waiter  entered  with  hot  water, 
I  could  not  resist  the  impulse  to  pull  off 
my  nightcap  with  one  hand,  and  press  the 
other  to  my  heart  in  the  usual  theatrical 
style  of  acknowledgments  for  a  most  flat- 
tering reception.  The  startled  look  of  the 
poor  fellow  as  he  neared  the  door  to  es- 
cape, roused  me  from  my  hallucination, 
and  awakened  me  to  the  conviction  that 
the  suspicion  of  lunacy  might  be  a  still 
heavier  infliction  than  the  personation  of 
Monsieur  Meyerbeer. 

With  thoughts  of  this  nature,  I  assumed 
my  steadiest  demeanor  —  ordered  my 
breakfast  in  the  most  orthodox  fashion — 
ate  it  like  a  man  in  his  senses  ;  and  when 
I  threw  myself  back  in  the  wicker  conveni- 
ency  they  call  a  caleche,  and  bid  adieu  to 
Kehl,  the  whole  fraternity  of  the  inn 
would,  have  given  me  a  certificate  of  sanity 
before  any  court  in  Europe. 

"  Now  for  Munich,"  said  I,  as  we  rat- 
tled along  down  the  steep  street  of  the  lit- 
tle town.  "  Now  for  Munich,  with  all  the 
speed  that  first  of  postmasters  and  slowest 
of  men,  the  Prince  of  Tour  and  Taxis,  will 
afford  us." 

The  future  engrossed  all  my  thoughts ; 
and,  puzzling  as  my  late  adventures  had 
been  to  account  for,  I  never  for  a  moment 
reverted  to  the  past.  "  Is  she  to  be  mine  ?  " 
was  the  ever-rising  question  in  my  mind. 


HA  II RY  LO  R  REQ  UER. 


203 


The  thousand  difficulties  that  had  crossed 
my  path  mighl  long  sine*.'  have  terminated 
a  pursuil  where  there  was  so  little  of 
promise,  did  I  not  cherish  the  idea  in  my 
heart,  that  I  was  fated  to  succeed.  Sheri- 
dan answered  the  ribald  sneers  of  his  lirst 
auditory   by  saying,   "Laugh  on;    but   I 

have  it  in  mo,  and   by it  shall  conic 

out."  So  I  whispered  to  myself, — "Go 
on,  Harry.  Luck  has  been  hitherto  against 
you,  it  is  true  ;  but  you  have  ye!  one 
throw  of  the  dice,  and  something  seem-  to 
say,  a   fortunate   one  in   store  ;  and  if  so 

j "  But  I  cannot  trust  myself  with  such 

anticipations.  I  am  well  aware  how  little 
the  world  sympathizes  with  the  man  whose 
fortunes  are  the  sport  of  his  temperament 
— that  April-day  frame  of  mind  is  ever  the 
jest  and  scoff  of  those  hardier  and  sterner 
natures  who,  if  never  overjoyed  by  success, 
are  never  much  depressed  by  failure.  That 
I  have  been  cast  in  the  former  mold,  these 
Confessions  have,  alas  !  plainly  proved  ; 
but  that  I  regret  it,  I  fear  also,  for  my 
character  for  sound  judgment,  I  must  an- 
swer "  No." 

41  Better  far  to  be 

In  utter  darkness  lying,  . 
Than  be  blest  with  light,  and  see 
That  light  for  ever  flying," 

is  doubtless  very  pretty  poetry,  but  very 
poor  philosophy.  For  myself — and  some 
glimpses  of  sunshine  this  fair  world  has 
afforded  me,  fleeting  and  passing  enough,  in 
all  conscience — and  yet  I  am  not  so  ungrate- 
ful as  to  repine  at  my  happiness  because 
it  was  not  permanent,  while  I  am  thankful 
for  those  bright  hours  of  ""  Love's  young 
dream."  which,  if  nothing  more,  are  at 
least  delightful  souvenirs.  They  form  the 
golden  thread  in  the  tangled  web  of  our  ex- 
istence, ever  appearing  amid  the  darker 
surface  around,  and  throwing  a  fair  halo 
of  brilliancy  on  what,  without  it,  were 
cold,  bleak,  and  barren.     No,  no — 

"  The  light  that  lies 
In  woman's  eyes, " 

were  it  twice  as  fleeting — as  it  is  ten  times 
more  brilliant — than  the  forked  lightning, 
irradiates  the  dark  gloom  within  us  for 
many  a  long  day  after  it  has  ceased  to 
shine  upon  us.  As  in  boyhood  it  is  the 
humanizing  influence  that  tempers  the 
fierce  and  unruly  passions  of  our  nature, 
so  in  manhood  it  forms  the  goal  to  which 
all  our  better  and  higher  aspirations  tend, 
telling  us  there  is  something  more  worthy 
than  gold,  and  a  more  lofty  pinnacle  of 
ambition  than  the  praise  and  envy  of  our 


fellow-men  ;  and  we  may  res!  assured  that 
when    this    t «-f -1  i n lt  die-   within  us,  all   the 
ideal  of  life  dies  with   it.  and   nothin \ 
mains  save  the  dull   reality  of  our  daily 
md  occupations.     ••  I  have  lived  and 

have  loved."  saith  Schiller  :   am!  if  il   were 

not  that  there  seems  some  tautology  in  the 

phrase.  I  should  say.  such  ifi  my  own   mot- 
to.    "If  Lady  Jane  bur   prove  true-^-if  I 

have   really   succeeded — if,   in  a   word 

But  why  speculate  upon  such  chanc 
what  pretensions  have  I  ? — what  reasons 
to  look  for  such  a  prize  ?  Ala-  !  and  alas  ! 
were  I  to  catechise  myself  too  closely,  I 
fear  that  my  horses'  heads  would  face  to- 
ward Calais,  and  that  I  should  turn  my 
back  upon  the  only  prospeel  (,f  happiness 
I  can  picture  to  myself  in  this  world."  In 
reflections  such  as  these,  the  hours  rolled 
over,  and  it  was  already  late  at  night  when 
we  reached  the  little  village  of  Merchem. 
While  fresh  horses  were  being  got  ready,  I 
seized  the  occasion  to  partake  of  the  table 
d'hote  supper  of  the  inn,  at  the  door  of 
which  the  diligence  was  drawn  up.  Around 
the  long,  and  not  over-scrupulously  clean 
table,  sat  the  usual  assemblage  of  a  German 
"Eilwagen," — smoking,  dressing  salad, 
knitting,  and  occasionally  picking  their 
teeth  with  their  forks,  until  the  soup 
should  make  its  appearance.  Taking  my 
place  amid  this  motley  assemblage  of  mus- 
tachioed shopkeepers  and  voluminously- 
petticoated  Fraus,  I  sat  calculating  how 
long  human  patience  could  endure  such 
companionship,  when  my  attention  was 
aroused  by  hearing  a  person  near  me  nar- 
rate to  his  friend  the  circumstances  of  my 
debut  at  Strasbourg,  with  certain  marginal 
notes  of  his  own,  that  not  a  little  surpris- 
ed me. 

"  And  so  it  turned  out  not  to  be  Meyer- 
beer after  all,"  said  the  listener. 

"  Of  course  not,"  replied  the  other. 
"Meyerbeer's  passport  was  stolen  front 
him  in  the  diligence  by  this  English  escroe, 
and  the  consequence  was  that  our  poor 
countryman  was  arrested,  the  other  passport 
being  found  upon  him  :  while  the  English- 
man, proceeding  to  Strasbourg,  took  his 
benefit  at  the  opera,  and  walked  away  with 
above  twelve  thousand  florins." 

"  Sappermint ! "  said  the  other,  tossing 
off  his  beer.  "  He  must  have  been  a  clev<  r 
fellow,  though,  to  lead  the  orchestra  in  the 
Frillies  MdQOIlS." 

"That  is  the  most  astonishing  part  of 
all,  for  they  say  in  Strasbourg  that  his 
performance  upon  the  violin  was  far  finer 
than  Paganini's  :  but  there  seems  some  se- 
cret in  it,  after  ail  :  for  Madame  Baptiste 
swears  that  he  is  Meyerbeer  ;  and,  in  fact, 


204 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


the  matter  is  far  from  being  cleared  up — 
nor  ran  it  be,  fill  he  is  apprehended." 

"Which  shall  not  be  for  some  time  to 
come,"  said  I  to  myself,  as,  slipping  noise- 
lessly from  the  room,  I  regained  my  ca- 
leche,  and  in  ten  minutes  more  was  pro- 
ceeding <tti  my  journey.  '"So  much  for 
correct  information,"  thought  J.  ''One 
thing,  however,  is  certain — to  the  chance 
interchange  of  passports  I  owe  my  safety, 
with  the  additional  satisfaction  that  my 
little  German  acquaintance  is  reaping  a 
pleasant  retribution  for  all  his  worry  and 
annoyance  of  me  in  the  coupe." 

Only  he  who  has  toiled  over  the  weary 
miles  of  a  long-  journey — exclusively  occu- 
pied with  one  thought— one  overpowering 
feeling — can  adequately  commiserate  my 
impatient  anxiety  as  the  days  rolled  slowly 
over  on  the  long  tiresome  road  that  leads, 
from  the  Rhine  to  the  South  of  Germany. 

The  morning  was  breaking  on  the  fourth 
day  of  my  journey  as  the  tall  spires  of 
Munich  rose  to  my  view,  amid  the  dull 
and  arid  desert  of  sand  that  city  is  placed 
in.  "At  last!  "  was  my  exclamation,  as  the 
postilion  tapped  at  the  window  with  his 
whip,  and  then  pointed  toward  the  city — 
"at  last!"  Oh!  what  would  be  the 
ecstasy  of  my  feelings  now,  could  I  ex- 
change the  torturing  anxieties  of  suspense 
for  the  glorious  certainty  my  heart  throbs 
for  ;  now  my  journey  is  nearing  its  end, 
to  see  me  claim  as  my  own  what  I  only 
barely  aspire  to  in  the  sanguine  hope  of  a 
heart  that  will  not  despair.  But  cheer  up, 
Harry.  It  is  a  noble  stake  you  play  for  ; 
and  it  is  ever  the  bold  gambler  that  wins." 
Scarcely  was  this  reflection  made  half 
aloud,  when  a  sudden  shock  threw  me 
from  my  seat.  I  fell  toward  the  door, 
which,  bursting  open,  launched  me  out 
upon  the  road,  at  the  same  moment  that 
the  broken  axletree  of  the  caleche  had  up- 
set it  on  the  opposite  side,  carrying  one 
horse  along  with  it,  and  leaving  the  other, 
with  the  postilion  on  his  back,  kicking  and 
plunging  with  all  his  might.  After  as- 
sisting the  frightened  fellow  to  dismount, 
and  having  cut  the  traces  of  the  restive 
animal,  I  then  perceived  that  in  the  melee 
I  had  not  escaped  scathlejss.  I  could  bare- 
ly stand  ;  and,  on  passing  my  hand  along 
my  instep,  perceived  I  had  sprained  my 
ankle  in  the  fall.  The  day  was  only  break- 
ing, no  one  was  in  sight,  so  that  after  a 
few  minutes'  consideration,  the  best  thing 
to  do  appeared  to  get  the  other  horse  upon 
his  legs,  and  despatching  the  postilion  to 
Munich,  then  about  three  leagues  distant, 
for  a  carriage,  wait  patiently  on  the  road- 
side for  his  return.    No  sooner  was  there- 


solve  made  than  carried  into  execution; 
and  in  less  thai:  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
from  the  momenl  of  the  accident,  Y  was 
seated  upon  the  bank,  watching  the  retir- 
ing figure  of  the  postilion,  as  he  disap- 
peared down  a  hill,  on  his  way  to  Munich. 
When  the  momentary  burst  of  impatience 
was  over, -I  could  not  help  congratulating 
myself  that  I  was  so  far  fortunate  in 
reaching  the  end  of 'my  journey,  ere  the 
the  mischance  befell  me.  Had  it  occurred 
at  Stutgard,  I  really  think  that  it  would 
have  half  driven  me  distracted. 

I  was  not  long  in  my  present  situation, 
when  a  number  of  peasants,  with  broad- 
brimmed  hats  and  many-buttoned  coats, 
passed  on  their  way  to  work  ;  they  all  sa- 
luted me  respectfully  ;  but  although  they 
saw  the  broken  carriage,  and  might  well 
guess  at  the  nature  of  my  accident,  yet  not 
one  ever  thought  of  proffering  his  services, 
or  even  indulging  curiosity,  by  way  of  in- 
quiry. "How  thoroughly  German,"  I 
thought  ;  "these  people  are  the  Turks  of 
Europe,  stupefied  with  tobacco  and  strong 
beer.  They  have  no  thought  for  anything 
but  themselves,  and  their  own  immediate 
occupations."  Perceiving  at  length  one 
whose  better  dress  and  more  intelligent 
look  bespoke  a  rank  above  the  common,  I 
made  the  effort  with  such  plat  Detctsch  as  I 
could  muster,  to  ask  if  there  were  any 
house  near,  where  I  could  remain  till  the 
postilion's  return,  and  learned,  greatly  to 
my  gratification,  that  by  taking  the  path 
which  led  through  a  grove  of  pine-trees 
near  me,  I  should  find  a  chateau,  but  who 
was  the  proprietor  he  knew  not ;  indeed, 
the  people  were  only  newly  come,  and  he 
believed  were  foreigners — English,  he 
thought.  Oh,  how  my  heart  jumped,  as  I 
said,  "  Can  they  be  the  Callonbys  ?  are 
they  many  in  family  ?  are  there  ladies — 
young  ladies  among  them  ?"  He  knew 
not.  Having  hastily  arranged  with  my 
new  friend  to  watch  the  carriage  till  my 
return,  I  took  the  path  he  showed  me,  and, 
smarting  with  pain  at  every  step,  hurried 
along  as  best  1  could  toward  the  chateau. 
I  had  not  walked  many  minutes,  when  a 
break  in  the  wood  gave  me  a  view  of  the 
old  mansion,  and  at  once  dispelled  the  il- 
lusion that  was  momentarily  gaining  upon 
me.  "  They  could  not  be  the  Callonbys." 
The  house  was  old  ;  and  though  it  had 
once  been  a  fine  and  handsome  structure, 
exhibited  now  abundant  traces  of  decay  ; 
the  rich  cornices  which  supported  the  roof 
had  fallen  in  many  places,  and  lay  in  frag- 
ments upon  the  terrace  beneath  ;  the  por- 
tico of  the  door  was  half  tumbling  ;  and 
the  architraves  of  the  windows  were  broken 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


205 


and  dismantled ;  the  tall  and  once  richh 
ornamented  chimneys  were  bereft  of  all 
their  tracery,  and  stood  bolt  upright  in  all 
their  nakedness  above  the  high-pitched 
roof.  A  straggling  jet  (Vedu  was  vigor- 
ously fighting  its  wa\  amid  a  mass  of  creep- 
ing shrubs  and  luxuriant  lichens  that  had 
grown  around  and  above  a  richly  carved 
fountain,  and  fell  in  a  shower  of  sparkling 
dew  upon  the  rank  grass  and  tall  weeds 
around.  The  gentle  murmur  was  the  only 
sound  that  broke  the  stillness  of  the  morn- 

A  few  deities  in  lead  and  stone,  mutilat- 
ed and  broken,  stood  like  the  Genii  loci, 
guarding  the  desolation  about  them,  where 
an  old  superannuated  peacock,  with  droop- 
ing, ragged  tail,  was  the  only  living  thing 
to  be  seen.  All  bespoke  the  wreck  of  what 
once  was  great  and  noble,  and  all  plainly 
told  me  that  such  could  not  be  the  abode 
of  the  Callonbys. 

Half  doubting  that  the  house  were  in- 
habited, and  half  scrupling,  if  so,  to  dis- 
turb its  inmates  from  their  rest,  I  sat  down 
upon  the  terrace  steps  and  fell  into  a  fit  of 
musing  on  the  objects  about.  That  strange 
propensity  of  my  countrymen  to  settle  down 
in  remote  and  unfrequented  spots  upon 
the  Continent  had  never  struck  me  so  forc- 
ibly :  for  although  unquestionably  there 
were  evident  traces  of  the  former  grandeur 
of  the  place,  yet  it  was  a  long-past  great- 
ness ;  and  in  the  dilapidated  walls,  weed- 
grown  walks,  the  dark  and  gloomy  pine- 
groves,  there  were  more  hints  for  sadness 
than  I  should  willingly  surround  myself 
by,  in  a  residence.  The  harsh  grating  of  a 
heavy  door  behind  roused  me  ;  I  turned 
and  beheld  an  old  man  in  a  species  of  tar- 
nished and  worm-eaten  livery,  who,  hold- 
ing the  door,  again  gazed  at  me  with  a 
mingled  expression  of  fear  and  curiosity. 
Having  briefly  explained  the  circumstances 
which  had  befallen  me,  and  appealed  to  the 
broken  caleche  upon  the  road  to  corrobo- 
rate my  testimony,  which  I  perceived  need- 
ed such  aid,  the  old  man  invited  me  to 
enter,  saying  that  his  master  and  mistress 
had  not  yet  risen,  but  that  he  would  him- 
self give  me  some  breakfast,  of  which  by 
this  time  I  stood  much  in  want.  The  room 
into  which  I  was  ushered  corresponded 
well  with  the  exterior  of  the  house.  It 
was  large,  bleak,  and  ill-furnished  ;  the 
ample,  uncurtained  windows,  the  cold. 
white-paneled  walls,  the  uncarpeted  floor, 
all  giving  it  an  air  of  uninhabitable  misery. 
A  few  chairs  of  the  Louis-Quatorze  taste. 
with  bine  velvet  linings,  faded  and  worn, 
a  cracked  marble  table  upon  legs  that  once 
had  been  gilt,  two  scarcely  detectable  por- 


traitsof  a  mail-clad  hero  and  a  scarcely  ' 
formidable  fair,  wit li  a  dove  upon  ho-  wrist, 
formed  the   principal  articles  of  furniture 
iu  thi-  dismal  abode,  where  so  I  de- 

pressing did  everything  appear,  that  I  half 
regretted  the  curiosity  that  had  tempted 
mi'  from  the  balmy  air  and  cheerful  morn- 
ing without,  to  the  gloom  and  solitude 
around  me. 

The  old  man  soon  reappeared  with  a  not 
despicable  cup  of  cafe  noir,  and  a  piece  of 
bread  as  large  a-  a  teaspoon,  and  used  by 
the  Germans  prettymuch  in  the  same  way. 
As  the  adage  of  the  "gift  horse"is  of 
tolerably  general  acceptation,  I  ate  mid 
was  thankful,  mingling  my  acknowledg- 
ments from  time  to  time  with  som<  qi 
tions  about  the  owners  of  tie.'  mansion, 
concerning  whom  I  could  not  help  feeling 
curious.  The  ancient  servitor,  however, 
knew  little  or  nothing  of  those  he  served  : 
his  master  was  the  honorable  baron  ;  bet 
of  his  name  he  was  ignorant  ;  his  mis! 
was  young  ;  they  had  not  been  many 
months  there  ;  they  knew  no  one — had  ho 
visitors — he  had  heard  they  were  English, 
but  did  not  know  it  himself  ;  they  were 
"gute  Leute,"  "good  people,"  and  that 
was  enough  for  him.  How  strange  did  all 
this  seem,  that  two  people,  young,  too, 
should  separate  themselves  from  all  the  at- 
tractions and  pleasures  of  the  world  ami 
settle  down  in  this  dark  and  dreary  soli- 
tude, where  every  association  was  of  melan- 
choly, every  object  a  text  for  sad  reflec- 
tions. Lost  in  these  thoughts,  I  sat  down 
beside  the  window,  and  heeded  not  the  old 
man  as  he  noiselessly  left  the  room.  My 
thoughts  ran  on  over  the  strange  phases 
•in  which  life  presents  itself,  and  how  little, 
after  all,  external  influences  have  to  do 
with  that  peace  of  mind  whose  origin  is 
within.  ''The  Indian,  whose  wigwam  is 
beside  the  cataract,  heeds  not  its  thunders, 
nor  feels  its  sprays  as  they  fall  in  everlast- 
ing dews  upon  him  ;  the  Arab  of  the  desert 
sees  no  bleakness  in  those  never-ending 
plains,  upon  whose  horizon  his  eye 
rested  from  childhood  to  age.  Who  knows 
but  he  who  inhabits  this  lonely  dwelling 
may  have  once  shone  in  the  gay  world, 
mixing  in  its  follies,  tasting  of  its  fascina- 
tion ?     And  to  think  that  now "    The 

low  murmurs  of  the  pine  tops,  the  gentle 
rustle  of  the  water  through  the  rank  grass, 
and  my  own  thoughts  combining,  over- 
came me  at  length,  and  I  slept — how  long 
I  know  not  ;  but  when  I  awoke,  certain 
changes  about  me  showed  that  some  length 
of  time  had  elapsed  :  a  gay  wood  tire  was 
burning  on  the  hearth  ;  an  ample  break- 
fast covered  the  table  :  and  the  broadsheet 


206 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


of  the  Times  newspaper  was  negligently  re- 
posing in  the  dee))  hollow  of  an  arm-chair. 
Before  1  had  wed  thought  how  to  apologize 
for  the  cool  insouciance  of  my  intrusion, 
the  door  opened,  and  a  tall,  well-built  man 
entered  ;  Ins  shoo  ting- jacket  and  gaiters 
were  evidence  of  his  English  origin,  while 
a  bushy  moustache  and  most  ample 
"  Henri  Quatre  "  nearly  concealed' features 
that  still  were  not  quite  unknown  to  me  ; 
he  stopped,  looked  steadily  at  me,  placed 
a  hand  on  either  shoulder,  and  calling  out, 
"  Harry — Harry  Lorrequer,  by  all  that's 
glorious!"  rushed  from  the  room  in  a 
transport  of  laughter. 

If  my  escape  from  the  gallows  depended 
upon  my  guessing  my  friend,  I  should  have 
submitted  to  the  last  penalty  of  the  law  : 
never  was  I  so  completely  nonplussed. 
"Confound  him,  what  does  he  mean  by 
running  away  in  that  fashion  !  It  would 
serve  him  right  were  I  to  decamp  by  one 
of  the  windows  before  he  comes  back;  but, 
hark  !  some  one  is  approaching." 

"  I  tell  you  I  cannot  be  mistaken,"  said 
the  man's  voice  from  without. 

"Oh,  impossible  !"  said  a  ladylike  ac- 
cent that  seemed  not  heard  by  me  for  the 
first  time. 

"Judge  for  yourself,  though  certainly 
the  last  time  you  saw  him  may  confuse 
your  memory  a  little." 

"What  the  devil  does  he  mean  by 
that?"  said  I,  as  the  door  opened,  and  a 
very  beautiful  young  woman  came  forward, 
who,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  called 
out, — 

"True,  indeed,  it  is  Mr.  Lorrequer  ;  but 
he  seems  to  have  forgotten  me." 

The  eyes,  the  lips,  the  tone  of  the  voice, 
were  all  familiar.  "  What !  can  it  be  pos- 
sible ! "  Her  companion,  who  had  now 
entered,  stood  behind  her,  holding  his 
sides  with  ill-suppressed  mirth,  and  at 
length  called  out, — 

"Harry,  my  boy,  you  scarcely  were 
more  discomposed  the  last  morning  we 
parted  when  the  yellow  plush " 

"  By  Jove  it  is  ! "  said  I,  as  I  sprang  for- 
ward, and  seizing  my  fair  friend  in  my 
arms,  saluted  upon  both  cheeks  my  quon- 
dam flame,  Miss  Kamworth,  now  the  wife 
of  my  old  friend,  Jack  Waller,  of  whom  1 
have  made  due  mention  in  an  early  chap- 
ter of  these  Confessions. 

Were  I  given  a  muster-roll  of  my  ac- 
quaintance to  say  which  of  them  might  in- 
habit this  deserted  mansion,  Jack  Waller 
would  certainly  have  been  the  last  I  should 
have  selected — the  gay,  lively,  dashing, 
high-spirited  Jack,  fond  of  society,  dress, 
equipage,    living    entirely   in    the   world, 


known  to  and  liked  by  every  body,  of  uni- 
versal reputation.  Did  you  want  a  cavalier 
to  see  your  wife  through  a  crush  at  the 
Opera,  a  friend  in  a  duel,  a  rider  for  your 
kicking  horse  in  ;i  stiff  steeplechase,  a  bow- 
oar  for  your  boat  at  a  rowing-match,  Jack 
was  your  man.  Such,  then,  was  my  sur- 
prise at  finding  him  here,  that  although 
there  were  many  things  I  longed  to  inquire 
about,  my  first  question  was — 

"  And  how  came  you  here  ?" 

"Life  has  its  vicissitudes,"  replied  Jack, 
laughing;  "many  stranger  things  have 
come  to  pass  than  my  reformation.  But 
first  of  all  let  us  think  of  breakfast;  you 
shall  have  ample  satisfaction  for  all  your 
curiosity  afterward." 

"  Not  now,  I  fear  ;  I  am  hurrying  on  to 
Munich." 

"Oh,  I  perceive;  but  you  are  aware 
that your  friends  are  not  there." 

"  The  Callonbys  not  at  Munich!"  said 
I,  Avith  a  start. 

"No,  they  have  been  at  Saltzburg,  in 
the  Tyrol,  for  some  weeks  ;  but  don't  fret 
yourself  ;  they  are  expected  to-morrow  in 
time  for  the  court  masquerade,  so  that  un- 
til then  at  least  you  are  my  guest." 

Overjoyed  at  this  information,  I  turned 
my  attention  toward  madame,  whom  I 
found  much  improved  ;  the  embonpoint  of 
womanhood  had  still  further  increased  the 
charms  of  one  who  had  always  been  hand- 
some, and  I  could  not  help  acknowledging 
that  my  friend  was  warrantable  in  any 
scheme  for  securing  such  a  prize. 


CHAPTER  LI. 


JACK   WALLERS   STORY. 


The  day  passed  quickly  over  with  my 
newly-found  friends,  whose  curiosity  to 
learn  my  adventures  since  we  parted  anti- 
cipated me  in  my  wish  to  learn  theirs. 
After  an  early  dinner,  however,  with  a 
fresh  log  upon  the  hearth,  a  crusty  flask 
of  red  hermitage  before  us,  Jack  and  I 
sound  ourselves  alone,  and  at  liberty  to 
speak  freely  together. 

"I  scarcely  could  have  expected  such 
would  be  our  meeting,  Jack,"  said  I, 
"from  the  way  we  last  parted." 

"  Yes,  by  Jove,  Harry,  I  believe  I  be- 
haved but  shabbily  to  you  in  that  affair  ; 
but  'Love  and  War,'  you  know  ;  and,  be- 
sides, we  had  a  distinct  agreement  drawn 
up  between  i*s." 

"  All  true ;  and,  after  all,  you  are,  per- 
haps, less  to  blame  than  my  own  miserable 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


20? 


fortune  that  lies  in  wait  to  entrap  and  dis- 
appoint me  at  every  turn  in  life.  Tell  me, 
what,  do  y>u  know  of  the  Callonbys  ?" 

^'Nothing  personally.  We  have  met 
them  at  dinner,  a  visit  passed  subsequently 
between  us,  et  voila)  l<>nl  :  they  have  been 
scenery  hunting,  picture  hunting,  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing,  since  their  arrival,  and 
rarely  muoh  in  Munich.  Bui  how  do  you 
stand  t  here  ?    '  T<>  he  or  not  to  be  '—eh  ?  " 

••That  is  the  very  question  of  all  others 
I  would  fain  solve,  and  yet  am  in  most 
complete  ignorance  of  all  about  it ;  hut 
the  time  approaches  which  must  decide 
all.  I  have  neither  temper  nor  patience 
for  farther  contemplation  of  it.  So  here 
goes  :  'Success  to  the  Enterprise.'" 

"  Or,"  said  Jack,  tossing  off  his  glass  at, 
the  moment,  "or,  as  they  would  say  in 
Ireland,  '  Your  health  and  inclinations,  if 
they  be  virtuous.' " 

"And  now.  Jack,  tell  me  something  of 
your  own  fortunes  since  the  day  you  passed 
me  in  the  post-chaise  and  four." 

"  The  story  is  soon  told.  You  remem- 
ber that  when  I  carried  off  Mary,  I  had  no 
intention  of  leaving  England  whatever  : 
my  object  was,  after  making  her  my  wife, 
to  open  negotiations  with  the  old  colonel ; 
and  after  the  approved  routine  of  peniten- 
tial letters,  imploring  forgiveness,  and  set- 
ting forth  happiness  only  wanting  his 
sanction  to  make  it  heaven  itself,  to  have 
thrown  ourselves  at  his  feet  selon  les  regies, 
sobbed,  blubbered,  blew  our  noses,  and 
dressed  for  dinner,  very  comfortable  in- 
mates of  that  particularly  snug  residence. 
'Hydrabad  Cottage.'  Now  Mary,  who 
behaved  with  great  courage  for  a  couple  of 
days  after  that,  got  low-spirited  and  de- 
pressed ;  the  desertion  of  her  father,  as 
she  called  it,  weighed  upon  her  mind,  and 
all  my  endeavors  to  rally  and  comfort  her 
were  fruitless  and  unavailing.  Each  day, 
however,  I  expected  to  hear  something  of, 
or  from,  the  colonel  that  would  put  an  end 
to  this  feeling  of  suspense  ;  but  no — three 
weeks  rolled  on,  although  I  took  care  that 
he  knew  of  our  address,  we  never  received 
any  communication.  You  are  aware  that 
when  I  married  I  knew  Mary  had,  or  was 
to  have  had,  a  large  fortune,  and  that  I 
myself  had  not  then  enough  in  the  world 
to  pay  the  common  expenses  of  our  wed- 
ding tour.  My  calculation  was  this — the 
reconciliation  will  possibly,  what  with 
delays  of  post,  distance,  and  deliberation, 
take  a  month — say  five  weeks — now,  at 
forty  pounds  per  week,  that  makes  exactly 
two  hundred  pounds — such  being  the  pre- 
cise limit  of  my  exchequer,  when,  blessed 
with  a  wife,  a  man,  and  a  maid,  three  im- 


perials, a  cap-case,  and  a  poodle,  I  ai 
at  i  he  Royal  Eotel,  in  Edinburgh.  Had 
i  been  Lord  Francis  Somebody,  with  his 
hundred  thousand  a  year,  looking  for  a 
new  •  distraction  '  at  any  price,  or,  -till 
more,  were  I  a  London  Bnopkei  pi  i  spend- 
ing a  Sunday  in  Boulogne-snr  Mi  r, 
trying  to  find  out  some!  hing  '  expen 
as  he  had  only  one  day  to  lav,"  I  could 
not  have  more  industriously  Bought  out 
opportunities  for  extravagance,  and  each 
'lav  contrived  to  find  out  some  two  or 
three  acquaintances  to  bring  home  to  din- 
ner. And  as  I  affected  to  have  !  sen  mar- 
ried for  a  long  time.  Mary  felt  less  awk- 
ward among  strangers,  and  we  got  on 
famously;  still  the  silence  of  the  colonel 
weighed  upon  her  mind,  and  although  she 
partook  of  none  of  my  anxieties  from  that 
source,  being  perfectly  ignorant  of  the 
state  of  my  finances,  she  dwelt  so  con- 
stantly upon  this  subject,  that  I  at  length 
yielded  to  her  repeated  solicitation.-,  and 
permitted  her  to  write  to  her  father.  Her 
letter  was  a  most  proper  one.  combining  a 
dutiful  regret  for  leaving  her  home,  with 
the  hope  that  her  choice  had  been  such  as 
to  excuse  her  rashness,  or,  at  least,  palliate 
her  fault.  It  went  to  say,  that  her  fath 
acknowledgment  of  her  was  all  she  needed 
or  cared  for  to  complete  her  happim 
and  asking  for  his  permission  to  seek  it  in 
person.  This  was  the  substance  of  the 
letter,  which,  upon  the  whole,  satisfie  ! 
me,  and  I  waited  anxiously  for  the  reply. 
At  the  end  of  five  days  the  answer  arrived 
It  was  thus  : — 

'"Dear  Mary,— You  have  chosen 
your  own  path  in  life,  ami  having  done  so. 
I  have  neither  the  right  nor  inclinatioi 
interfere  with  your  decision  ;  1  shall 
neither  receive  you,  nor  the  person  you 
have  made  your  husband  :  and  to  prevent 
any  further  disappointment,  inform  you. 
that,  as  I  leave  this  to-morrow,  any  future 
letters  you  might  think  proper  to  add'.'  -- 
will  not  reach, 

"  •  Yours  very  faithfully, 

" '  C.  Kamworth. 

"<  Hydrabad  Cottage.' 

"This  was  a  tremendous  coup,  and  rot 
in  the  least  anticipated  by  either  of  us; 
upon  me  the  effect  was  stunning,  know- 
ing, as  I  did.  that  our  fast-diminishing 
finances  were  nearly  expended.  Mary,  on 
the  other  hand,  who  neither  knew  nor 
thought  of  the  exchequer,  rallied  at  once 
from  her  depression,  and  after  a  hearty  lit 
of  crying,  dried  her  eyes,  and  putting  her 
arm  round  my  neck,  said, — 


208 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


'"Well,  Jack,  I  must  only  love  you  the 
more,  since  papa  will  not.  share  any  of  my 
affection. ' 

'"I  wish  he  would  his  purse  though,' 
muttered  I,  as  I  pressed  her  in  my  arms, 
and  strove  to  seem  perfectly  happy. 

'"I  shall  not  prolong  my  story  by  dwell- 
ing upon  the  agitation  this  letter  cost  me  ; 
however,  1  had  yet  a  hundred  pounds  left, 
and  an  aunt  in  llarley  Street,  with  whom 
I  had  always  been  a  favorite.  This 
thought,  the  only  rallying  one  I  possessed, 
saved  me  for  the  time  ;  and  as  fretting  was 
never  my  forte,  I  never  let  Mary  perceive 
that  anything  had  gone  wrong,  and  man- 
aged so  well  in  this  respect,  that  my  good 
spirits  raised  hers,  and  we  set  out  for  Lon- 
don one  fine  sunshiny  morning  as  happy  a 
looking  couple  as  ever  traveled  the  north 
road. 

"  When  we  arrived  at  the  'Clarendon.' 
my  first  care  was  to  get  into  a  cab,  and 
drive  to  Harley  Street.  I  rang  the  bell  ; 
and  not  waiting  to  ask  if  my  aunt  was  at 
home,  I  dashed  upstairs  to  the  drawing- 
room  ;  in  I  bolted,  and  instead  of  the  pre- 
cise old  Lady  Lilford,  sitting  at  her  em- 
broidery, with  her  fat  poodle  beside  her, 
beheld  a  strapping-looking  fellow,  with  a 
black  moustache,  making  fierce  love  to  a 
young  lady  on  a  sofa  beside  him. 

"  '  Why,  how  is  this — I  really — there 
must  be  some  mistake  here.'  In  my  heart 
I  knew  that  such  doings  in  my  good  aunt's 
dwelling  were  impossible. 

"  'I  should  suspect  there  is,  sir,'  drawl- 
ed out  he  of  the  moustache,  as  lie  took  a 
very  Cool  survey  of  me  through  his  glass. 

'• '  Is  Lady  Lilford  at  home,  may  I  ask  ? ' 
said  I,  in  a  very  apologetic  tone  of  voice. 

"  '  I  haven't  the  honor  of  her  ladyship's 
acquaintance,'  replied  he,  in  a  lisp,  evi- 
dently enjoying  my  perplexity,  which  was 
every  moment  becoming  more  evident. 

'"But  this  is  her  house,'  said  I,  'at 
least. ' 

"  'Lady  Lilford  is  at  Paris,  sir,'  said  the 
young  lady,  who  now  spoke  for  the  first 
time.  '  Papa  has  taken  the  house  for  the 
season,  and  that  may  perhaps  account  for 
your  mistake.' 

"  What  I  muttered  by  way  of  apology 
for  my  intrusion,  I  know  not ;  but  1  stam- 
mered— the  young  lady  blushed — the  beau 
chuckled,  and  turned  to  the  Avindow,  and 
when  I  found  myself  in  the  street,  I 
scarcely  knew  whether  to  laugh  at  my 
blunder,  or  curse  my  disappointment. 

"The  next  morning  I  called  upon  my 
aunt's  lawyer,  and  having  obtained  her 
address  in  Paris,  sauntered  to  the  'Junior 
Club,'  to  write  her  a  letter   before   post 


hour.  As  I  scanned  over  the  morning  pa- 
pers, i  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  flam- 
ing paragraph  which  announced  my  mar- 
riage to  the  onlj  daughter  and  heiress-of 

the  millionnaire  Colonel  Kamworth.  Not 
well  knowing  how  to  open  the  correspond- 
ence with  my  worthy  relative,  I  folded  the 
paper  containing  the  news,  and  addressed 
it  to  'Lady  Lilford,  Hotel  de  Bristol, 
Paris.' 

"When  I  arrived  at  the  '  Clarendon,' I 
found  my  wife  and  her  maid  surrounded 
by  eases  and  bandboxes;  laces,  sat  ins.  and 
velvets  were  displayed  on  all  sides,  while 
an  emissary  from  '  Storr  and  Mortimer' 
was  arranging  a  grand  review  of  jewelry 
on  a  side-table,  one  half  of  which  would 
have  ruined  the  Rajah  of  Mysore  to  pur- 
chase. My  advice  was  immediately  called 
into  requisition  ;  and  pressed  into  service, 
I  had  nothing  left  for  it  but  to  canvass, 
criticise,  and  praise,  between  times,  which 
I  did  with  a  good  grace,  considering  that 
I  anticipated  the  'Fleet'  for  every  flounce 
of  Valenciennes  lace  ;  and  could  not  help  as- 
sociating a  rich  diamond  aigrette  with  hard 
labor  for  life  and  the  climate  of  New  South 
Wales.  The  utter  abstraction  I  Avas  in  led 
to  some  awkward  contretemps,  and  as  my 
wife's  enthusiasm  for  her  purchases  in- 
creased so  did  my  reverie  gain  ground. 

'• '  Is  it  not  beautiful,  Jack  ?  how  deli- 
cately worked  !  it  must  have  taken  a  long 
time  to  do  it.' 

'• '  Seven  years,'  I  muttered,  as  my 
thoughts  ran  upon  a  very  different  topic. 

"  '  Oh,  no,  not  so  much.'  said  she,  laugh- 
ing ;  '  and  it  must  he  such  a  hard  thing  to 
do.' 

"  'Not  half  so  hard  as  carding  wool,  or 
pounding  oyster  shells.' 

'"How  absurd  you  are  !  Well,  I'll  take 
this,  it  will  look  so  well  in ' 

"  '  Botany  Bay,'  said  I,  with  a  sigh  that 
set  all  the  party  laughing,  which  at  last 
roused  me,  and  enabled  me  to  join  in  the 
joke. 

"As  at  length  one  half  of  the  room  be 
came  filled   with  millinery,  and  the  other 
glittered    with   jewels  and  bijouterie,  my 
wife  grew  weary  with  her  exertions,  and 
we  found  ourselves  alone. 

"When  I  told  her  that  my  aunt  had 
taken  up  her  residence  in  Paris, it  immedi- 
ately occurred  to  her  how  pleasant  it  would 
be  to  go  there  too  ;  and,  although  I  con- 
curred in  the  opinion  for  very  different 
reasons,  it  was  at  length  decided  that  we 
should  do  so  ;  and  the  only  difficulty  now- 
existed  as  to  the  means,  as  though  the  daily 
papers  teemed  with  '  four  ways  to  go  from 
London  to  Paris,'  they  all  resolved  them- 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


209 


selves  into  one,  and  that  one,  unfortunately 
to  me,  the  most  difficult  and  impracticable 
— by  money. 
"There  was,  however,  one  last  resource 

open— tin'  sale  of  my  commission.  I  will 
not  dwell  upon  what  it  cost  me  to  resolve 
upon  this — the  determination  was  a  pain- 
ful one,  but  it,  was  soon  conic  to,  and  lie- 
fore  tivo  o'clock  that  day.  Cox  and  Green- 
wood had  got  their  instructions  to  sell  out 
for  me,  and  had  advanced  a  thousand 
pounds  of  the  purchase.  Our  hill  settled, 
the  waiters  bowing  to  the  ground  (it  is 
your  ruined  man  that  is  always  the  mosl 
liberal),  the  post-horses  harnessed,  and  im- 
patient for  the  road,  I  took  my  place  be- 
side my  wife,  while  my  valet  held  a  parasol 
over  the  soubrette  in  the  rumble — all  in 
the  approved  fashion  of  those  who  have  an 
unlimited  credit  with  Ooutts  or  Drum-, 
mond — the  whips  cracked,  the  leaders  ca- 
pered, and  with  a  patronizing  bow  to  the 
proprietor  of  the  '  Clarendon,'  away  we 
rattled  to  Dover. 

"After  the  usual  routine  of  sea-sickness, 
fatigue,  and  poisouou3  cookery,  we  reached 
Paris  on  the  fifth  day,  and  put  up  at  the 
'Hotel  dc'Londres,'  Place  Vendome. 

"  To  have  an  adequate  idea  of  the  state 
of  my  feelings  as  I  trod  the  splendid  apart- 
ments of  this  princely  hotel,  surrounded 
by  every  luxury  that  wealth  can  procure 
or  taste  suggest,  you  must  imagine  the 
condition  of  a  man  who  is  regaled  with  a 
sumptuous  banquet  on  the  eve  of  his  ex- 
ecution. The  inevitable  termination  to  all 
my  present  splendor  was  never  for  a  mo- 
ment absent  from  my  thoughts,  and  the 
secrecy  with  which  I  was  obliged  to  con- 
ceal my  feelings  formed  one  of  the  greatest 
sources  of  my  misery.  'The  coup,  when 
it  does  come,  will  be  sad  enough,  and  poor 
Mary  may  as  well  have  the  comfort  of  the 
deception  as  long  as  it  lasts  without  suf- 
fering as  I  do.'  Such  was  the  reasoning 
by  which  I  met  every  resolve  to  break  to 
her  the  real  state  of  our  finances,  and  such 
the  frame  of  mind  in  which  I  spent  my 
days  at  Paris,  the  only  really  unhappy  ones 
I  can  ever  charge  my  memory  Avith. 

"  We  had  scarcely  got  settled  in  the 
hotel,  when  my  aunt,  who  inhabited  the 
opposite  side  of  the  '  Place,'  came  over  to 
see  us  and  wish  us  joy.  She  had  seen  the 
paragraph  in  the  Post,  and  like  all  other 
people  with  plenty  of  money,  fully  approv- 
ed a  match  like  mine. 

"She*was  delighted  with  Mary,  and  de- 
spite the  natural  reserve  of  the  old  maiden 
lady,  became  actually  cordial,  and  invited 
us  "to  dine  with  her  that  day,  and  every 
succeeding  one  Ave  might  feel  disposed  to 

VOL.  I. — 14 


do  so.     ■  So  far  so  well,'  though!    I,  aa  I 
offered  her  my  arm  to  see  her  I     ne  ;  '  but 
if  she  knew  of  what  value  even  this  small 
attenl ion   is  to  ns,  am  I  quite  so  sure  • 
would   offer   it  ?     However,  do  i  in 
be  lost  :  1  cannol  live  in  1 1.  of  hour- 

ly agital  ion  :  I  musl  make  some  one  the 
conndanl  of  my  Borrows,  and  none  so  E 
she  who  can  relieve  as  well  as  ad\  ise  npon 
them.*  Although  such  was  my determina- 
i  ion,  yel  somehow  I  could  not  pluck  up 
courage  tor  the  effort.  My  aunt's  congra- 
tulations upon  my  good  luck  made  me 
shrink  from  the  avowal  :  and  while  she  ran 
on  npon  the  beauty  and  grace  of  my 
wife,  topics  J  fully  concurred  in,  I  almost 
chimed  in  with  her  satisfaction  at  the 
prudential  and  proper  motives  which  led 
to  the  match.  Twenty  times  I  was  on  thi- 
eve of  interrupting  her,  and  saying,  'But, 
madam,  I  am  a  beggar,  my  wife  has  no1  a 
shilling — I  have  absolutely  nothing— her 
father  disowns  us — my  commission  is  sold, 
and  in  three  weeks  the  "H6tel  de  I. 
dres"  and  the  "Palais  Royal"  will 
some  hundred  pounds  the  richer,  and  I 
without  the  fare  of  a  cab  to  drive  me  down 
to  the  Seine  to  drown  myself.3 

"  Such  wore  my  thoughts  ;  but  when- 
ever I  endeavored  to  speak  them,  some 
confounded  fulness  in  my  threat  nearly 
choked  me  ;  my  temples  throbbed,  my 
hands  trembled,  and  whether  it  was  shame, 
or  the  sickness  of  despair,  I  cannot  say, 
but  the  words  would  not  come,  and  all 
that  1  could  get  out  was  some  flattery  of 
my  wife's  beauty,  or  some  vapid  eulogy 
upon  my  own  cleverness  in  securing  such 
a  prize.  To  give  you  in  one  brief  sentence 
an  idea  of  my  state,  Harry,  know,  then, 
that  though  loving  Mary  with  all  my  heart 
and  soul,  as  I  felt  she  deserved  to  be  loved, 
fifty  times  a  day  I  would  have  given  my 
life  itself  that  you  had  been  the  successful 
man  on  the  morning  that  I  carried  her  off, 
and  that  Jack  Waller  was  once  more  a 
bachelor,  to  see  the  only  woman  he  ever 
loved  the  wife  of  another. 

"But  this  is  growing  tedious,  Harry  ;  I 
must  get  over  the  ground  faster.  Two 
months  passed  over  at  Paris,  during  which 
Ave  continued  to  live  at  the  Londres,  giv- 
ing dinners,  soiries,  dejeuners,  with  the 
prettiest  equipage  in  the  Champs  Elysi  - 
we  were  quite  the  mode,  for  my  wife, 
which  is  rare  enough  for  an  English- 
woman, knew  how  to  dress  herself.  Our 
evening  parties  were  the  most  distinguish- 
ed things  going,  and  if  I  were  capable  of 
partaking  of  any  pleasure  in  the  eclat,  I 
had  my  share,  having  Avon  all  the  pigeon 
matches  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  and  beat 


810 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


Lord  Henry  Seymour  himself  in  a  steeple- 
chase. The  continual  round  of  occupation 
in  which  pleasure  involves  a  man  is  cer- 
tainly its  greatest  attraction — reflection  is 
impossible — the  present  is  too  full  to  admit 
any  of  the  past,  and  very  little  of  the  fu- 
ture; and  even  E,  with  all  my  terrors 
awaiting  me,  began  to  feel  a  half  indiffer- 
ence to  the  result  in  the  manifold  cares  of 
my  then  existence.  To  this  state  of  fatal- 
ism, for  such  it  was  becoming,  had  I  ar- 
rived, when  the  vision  was  dispelled  m  a 
moment  by  a  visit  from  my  aunt,  who 
came  to  say,  that  some  business  requiring 
her  immediate  presence  in  London,  she  was 
to  set  out  that  evening,  but  hoped  to  find 
us  in  Paris  on  her  return.  I  was  thunder- 
struck at  the  news,  although  as  yet  I  had 
obtained  no  manner  of  assistance  from  the 
old  lady,  yet  I  felt  that  her  very  presence 
was  a  kind  of  security  to  us,  and  that  in 
every  sudden  emergency  she  was  there  to 
apply  to.  My  money  was  nearly  expended, 
the  second  and  last  instalment  of  my  com- 
mission was  all  that  remained,  and  much 
of  even  that  I  owed  to  tradespeople.  I 
now  resolved  to  speak  out.  '  The  worst 
must  be  known,'  thought  I,  '  in  a  few  days, 
and  now  or  never  be  it.'  So  saying,  I 
drew  my  aunt's  arm  within  my  own,  and 
telling  her  that  I  wished  a  few  minutes' 
conversation  alone,  led  her  to  one  of  the 
less  frequented  walks  in  the  Tuileries  gar 
dens.  When  we  had  got  sufficiently  far  to 
be  removed  from  all  listeners,  I  began 
thus  :  'My  dearest  aunt,  what  I  have  suf- 
fered in  concealing  from  you  so  long  the 
subject  of  my  present  confession,  will 
plead  as  my  excuse  in  not  making  you 
sooner  my  co'nfidante. '  When  I  had  got 
thus  far,  the  agitation  of  my  aunt  was 
such  that  I  could  not  venture  to  say  more 
for  a  minute  or  two.  At  length  she  said, 
in  a  kind  of  hurried  whisper,  '  Go  on ;' 
and  although  then  I  would  have  given  all 
I  possessed  in  the  world  to  have  continued, 
I  could  not  speak  a  word. 

"'Dear  John,  what  is  it? — anything 
about  Mary  ?     For  Heaven's  sake,  speak.' 

"  '  Yes,  dearest  aunt,  it  is  about  Mary, 
and  entirely  about  Mary.' 

"  'Ah,  dear  me,  I  feared  it  long  since  ; 
but  then,  John,  consider  she  is  very  hand- 
some— very  much  admired — and ' 

"  '  That  makes  it  all  the  heavier,  my  dear 
aunt ;  the  prouder  her  present  position, 
the  more  severely  will  she  feel  the  reverse.' 

"  '  Oh,  but  surely,  John,  your  fears  must 
exaggerate  the  danger.' 

"'Nothing  of  the  kind — I  have  not 
words  to  tell  you.' 

" '  Oh  dear,  oh  dear,  don't  say  so,'  said 


the  old  lady,  blushing  ;  'for,  though  I  have 
often  remarked  a  kind  of  gay  flirting  man- 
ner she  has  with  men.  1  am  sure  she 
means  nothing  by  it — she  is  so  young — and 
so ' 

"I  stopped,  stepped  forward,  and  look- 
ing straight  in  my  aunt's  face,  broke  out 
into  a  fit  of  laughter, -that  she,  mistaking 
for  hysterical  from  its  violence,  nearly  faint- 
ed upon  the  spot. 

"  As  soon  as  I  could  sufficiently  recover 
gravity  to  explain  to  my  aunt  her  mistake, 
I  endeavored  to  do  so  ;  but  so  ludicrous 
was  the  contretemps,  and  so  ashamed  the 
old  lady  for  her  gratuitous  suspicions,  that 
she  would  not  listen  to  a  word,  and  begged 
me  to  return  to  her  hotel.  Such  an  unex- 
pected turn  to  my  communication  routed 
all  my  plans  ;  and  after  a  very  awkward 
silence  of  some  minutes  on  both  sides,  1 
mumbled  something  about  her  expensive 
habits  of  life,  costly  equipage,  number  of 
horses,  etc.,  and  hinted  at  the  propriety  of 
retrenchment. 

"  '  Mary  rides  beautifully,'  said  my  aunt, 
drily. 

"  'Yes  ;  but,  my  dear  aunt,  it  was  not 
exactly  of  that  I  was  going  to  speak,  for  in 
fact ' 

"  '  Oh,  John,'  said  she,  interrupting,  'I 
know  your  delicacy  too  well  to  suspect ; 
but,  in  fact,  I  have  myself  perceived  what 
you  allude  to,  and  wished  very  much  to 
have  some  conversation  with  you  on  the 
subiect 

':  'Thank  God!'  said  I  to  myself,  'at 
length  we  understand  each  other,  and  the 
ice  is  broken  at  last.' 

"  '  Indeed,  I  think  I  have  anticipated 
your  wish  in  the  matter ;  but  as  time 
presses,  and  I  must  look  after  all  my  pack- 
ing, I  shall  say  good-by  for  a  few  weeks  ; 
and  in  the  evening,  Jepson,  who  stays  here, 
will  bring  you  what  I  mean  over  to  your 
hotel.     Once  more,  then,  good-by  ! ' 

"  'Good-by,  my  dearest,  kindest  friend!' 
said  I,  taking  a  most  tender  adieu  of  the 
old  lady.  '  What  an  excellent  creature  she 
is  ! '  said  I,  half  aloud,  as  I  turned  toward 
home  ;  'how  considerate,  how  truly  kind, 
to  spare  me,  too,  all  the  pain  of  explana- 
tion. Now  I  begin  to  breathe  once  more. 
If  there  be  a  flask  of  Johannisberg  in  the 
"  Londres,"  I'll  drink  your  health  this  day, 
and  so  shall  Mary.'  So  saying,  I  entered 
the  Hotel  with  a  lighter  heart  and  a  firmer 
step  than  ever  it  had  been  my  fortune  to 
do  hitherto. 

"  'We  shall  miss  the  old  lady,  I'm  sure, 
Mary,  she  is  so  kind.' 

"'Oh!  indeed  she  is;  but  then,  John, 
she  is  such  a  prude.' 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


211 


" Now  T  could  not  help  recurring  in  my 
mind  to  some  of  the  conversation  in  the 
Tuileries  gardens,  and  did  not  feel  exactly 

at  ease. 

"'Such  a  prude,  and  so  very  old-fash- 
ioned in  her  not  ions.' 

"  '  Yes,  Marv,' said  I.  with  more  gravity 
than  she  was  prepared  for,  'sin'  is  a,  prude; 
but  I  am  not  certain  that  in  foreign  soci- 
ety, where  less  liberties  are  tolerated  than 
in  our  country,  if  such  a  bearing  In'  not 
wiser.'  What  I  was  going  to  plunge  into. 
Heaven  knows,  for  the  waiter  entered  at 
the  moment,  and  presenting  me  with  a 
large  and  carefully-sealed  package,  said, 
'  De  le  part  de  Miladi  Li  1  fore.'  '  But  stay, 
here  comes,  if  1  am  not  mistaken,  a  1  tetter 
eulogy  upon  my  dear  aunt  than  any  I  can 
pronounce.' 

"'How  heavy  it  is,' said  I  to  myself, 
balancing  the  parcel  in  my  hand.  '  There 
is  no  answer,'  said  I  aloud  to  the  waiter, 
who  stood  as  if  expecting  one. 

"  '  The  servant  wishes  to  have  some  ac- 
knowledgment in  writing,  sir,  that  it  has 
been  delivered  into  your  own  hands.' 

"  '.Send  him  here,  then,'  said  I. 

"  Jepson  entered.  '  Well,  George,  your 
parcel  is  all  right,  and  here  is  a  napoleon 
to  drink  my  health.' 

"  Scarcely  had  the  servants  left  the 
room,  when  Mary,  whose  curiosity  was 
fully  roused,  rushed  over,  and  tried  to  get 
the  packet  from  me.  After  a  short  strug- 
gle, 1  yielded,  and  she  flew  to  the  end  of 
the  room,  and  tearing  open  the  seals,  sev- 
eral papers  fell  to  the  ground.  Before  I 
could  have  time  to  snatch  them  up,  she 
had  read  some  lines  written  on  the  enve- 
lope, and,  turning  toward  me,  threw  her 
arms  around  my  neck,  and  said,  '  Yes, 
Jack,  she  is  indeed  all  you  have  said. 
Look  here  ! '  I  turned  and  read,  with 
what  feeling  I  leave  to  you  to  guess,  the 
following  : — 

"  '  Dear  Nephew  and  Niece, — The 
inclosed  will  convey  to  you,  with  my 
warmest  wishes  for  your  happiness,  a  tick- 
et on  the  Frankfort  Lottery,  of  which  1 
inclose  the  scheme.  I  also  take  the  op- 
portunity of  saying  that  I  have  purchased 
the  Hungarian  pony  for  Mary,  which  we 
spoke  of  this  morning.  It  is  at  Johnston's 
stable,  and  will  be  delivered  on  sending 
for  it.' 

"'Think  of  that,  Jack— the  Borghese 
pony,  with  the  silky  tail,  mine  !  Oh,  what 


a  dear,    good   old 
thing  of  all  others 


soul  !   it  was   the   very 
I  longed  for,  for  they 


told    me   the   princess  had   refused  every 

offer  for  it.' 

•'  While    Mary  ran    on    in    thifl    -train,  I 

sat   mute   and   stupefied  :  the  sudden  r<  - 
verse  my  hopes  had  sustained  deprived 
for  a  moment    of   all    i  hou  -it    was 

several  minutes  before  I  <  ould  rightly  take 
in  the  full  extenl  of  my  misfori  unes. 

'•  I  low  t  lial     crazy    old    maid      for 

alas  :  I  called  her  to  myself  now-  could 
have  so  blundered  all  my  meaning — how 
she  could  so  palpably  have  mistaken — I 
could  not  conceive.     What  a  remedy  for  a 

man  overwhelmed  with  debt— a  ticket  in 
a  German  lottery,  and  a  cream-colored 
pony,  as  if  my  whole  life  had  not  been 
one  continued  lottery  with  every  day  a 
blank  ;  and  as  to  horses,  i  had  eleven  in 
my  stables  already.  Perhaps  she  thought 
twelve  would  read  better  in  my  schedule, 
when  I,  next  week,  surrendered  as  insol- 
vent. 

"Unable  to  bear  the  delight,  the  child- 
ish delight  of  Mary,  on  her  new  acquisi- 
tion, I  rushed  out  of  the  house,  and  wan- 
dered for  several  hours  on  the  Boulevards. 
At  last  I  summoned  up  courage  to  tell  my 
wife.  I  once  more  turned  toward  home, 
and  entered  her  dressing-room,  where  .-he 
was  having  her  hair  dressed  for  a  ball  at 
the  Embassy.  My  resolution  failed  me  : 
'Not  now;'  thought  I, 'to-morrow  will 
do  as  well — one  night  more  of   happii 

for  her,  and. then '     I  looked  on  with 

pleasure  and  pride,  as  ornament  after  orna- 
ment, brilliant  with  diamonds  and  emer- 
alds, shone  in  her  hair  and  upon  her  arms, 
still  heightening  her  beauty,  and  lighting 
up  with  a  dazzling  brilliancy  her  lovely 
figure.  'But  then  it  must  come,  and 
whenever  the  hour  arrives,  the  reverse  will 
be  fully  as  bitter  ;  besides,  I  am  able  now, 
and  when  I  may  again  be  so,  who  can 
tell?  Now  then  be  it,'  said  I,  as  I  told  the 
waiting-maid  to  retire  ;  and  taking  a 
chair  beside  my  wife,  put  my  arm  round 
her. 

" '  There,  John,  dearest,  take  care  ; 
don't  you  see  you'll  crush  all  that  great 
affair  of  Malines  lace,  and  Rosetta  has  been 
breaking  her  heart  to  manage  this  half 
hour.' 

"«Et  puis  P'said  I. 

"  '  Et  puis,  I  could  not  go  to  the  ball, 
naughty  boy.  I  am  bent  on  great  con- 
quest to-night  ;  so  pray  don't  mar  such 
good  intentions.' 

"'And  would  be  greatly  disappointed 
were  you  not  to  go  ?  ' 

"  'Of  course  I  should.  But  what  do 
you  mean ;  is  there  any  reason  why  I 
should  not  ?     You  are  silent,  John  ;  speak 


212 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


— oh    speak — has    anything    occurred     to 


my 

"  'No,  no,  dearest — nothing  that  I  know- 
has  occurred  to  the  colonel.' 

"  '  Well,  then,  who  is  it  ?  Oh,  tell  me 
at  once.' 

"  '  Oh,  my  dear,  these  is  no  one  in 
the  case  but  ourselves.'  So  saying,  de- 
spite the  injunction  about  the  lace,  1 
drew  her  toward  me  and  in  as  few 
words,  but  as  clearly  as  I  was  able,  ex- 
plained all  our  circumstances— my  en- 
deavor to  better  them — my  hopes — my 
fears — and  now  my  bitter  disappointment, 
if  not  despair. 

"  The  first  shock  over,  Mary  showed  not 
only  more  courage,  but  more  sound  sense 
than  I  could  have  believed.  All  the  fri- 
volity of  her  former  character  vanished  at 
the  first  touch  of  adversity  ;  just  as  of  old, 
Harry,  we  left  the  tinsel  of  our  gay  jackets 
behind,  when  active  service  called  upon  us 
for  something  more  sterling.  She  advised, 
counselled,  and  encouraged  me  by  turns  ; 
and  in  half  an  hour  the  most  poignant 
regret  I  had  was  in  not  having  sooner 
made  her  my  confidante,  and  checked  the 
progress  of  our  enormous  expenditure 
somewhat  earlier. 

"I  shall  not  detain  you  much  longer. 
In  three  weeks  we  had  sold  our  carriages 
and  horses,  our  pictures  (we  had  begun 
this  among  our  extravagances),  soon  after 
our  china  followed,  and  under  the  plea  of 
ill-health  set  out  for  Baden,  not  one 
among  our  Paris  acquaintances  ever  sus- 
pecting the  real  reason  of  our  depart- 
ure, and  never  attributing  any  pecuni- 
ary difficulties  to  us — for  we  paid  our 
debts. 

"  The  same  day  we  left  Paris  I  dis- 
patched a  letter  to  my  aunt,  explaining 
fully  all  about  us,  and  suggesting  that,  as 
I  had  now  left  the  army  for  ever,  perhaps 
she  would  interest  some  of  her  friends — 
and  she  had  powerful  ones — to  do  some- 
thing for  me. 

"After  some  little  loitering  on  the 
Rhine,  we  fixed  upon  Hesse  Gassel  for  our 
residence.  It  was  very  quiet — very  cheap. 
The  country  around  picturesque,  and  last, 
but  not  least,  there  was  not  an  English- 
man in  the  neighborhood.  The  second 
week  after  our  arrival  brought  us  letters 
from  my  aunt.  She  had  settled  four  hun- 
dred a  year  upon  us  for  the  present,  and 
sent  the  first  year  in  advance  ;  and,  pledg- 
ing herself  not  to  forget  when  an  oppor 
tunity  of  serving  me  should  offer,  promised 
us  a  visit  as  soon  as  we  were  ready  to  re- 
ceive her. 

"  From  that  moment  to  this,"  said  Jack, 


"all  has  gone  well  wilh  us.  We  have,  it 
is  true,  not  many  luxuries,  but  we  have  no 
wants,  and,  better  still,  no  debts.  The 
dear  old  aunt  is  always  making  us  some 
little  present  or  other,  and  somehow  I  have 
a  kind  of  feeling  that  better  luck  is  still  in 
store  ;  but  faith,  Harry,  as  long  as  I  have 
a  happy  home,  and  a  warm  fireside  for  a 
friend  when  he  drops  in  upon  me,  I  scarce- 
ly can  say  that  better  luck  need  be  wished 
for." 

"There  is  only  one  point,  Jack,  you 
have  not  enlightened  me  upon  ;  how  came 
you  here  ?  You  are  some  hundred  miles 
from  Hesse  in  your  present  chateau." 

"  Oh  !  by  Jove,  that  was  a  great  omis- 
sion in  my  narrative  ;  but  come,  this  will 
explain  it  ;  see  here."  So  saying,  he  drew 
from  a  little  drawer  a  large  lithographic 
print  of  a  magnificent  castellated  building, 
with  towers  and  bastions,  keep,  moat,  and 
even  drawbridge,  the  walls  bristling  with 
cannon,  and  an  eagled  banner  floating 
proudly  above  them. 

"  What,  in  the  name  of  the  Sphynxes,  is 
this  ?  " 

"  There,"  said  Jack,  "is  the  Schloss  von 
Eberhausen  ;  or,  if  you  like  it  in  English, 
Eberhausen  Castle,  as  it  was  in  the  year  of 
the  Deluge,  since  the  present  mansion  that 
we  are  now  sipping  our  wine  in  bears  no 
close  resemblance  to  it.  But  to  make  the 
mystery  clear,  this  was  the  great  prize  in 
the  Frankfort  lottery,  the  ticket  of  which 
my  aunt's  first  note  contained,  and 
which  we  were  fortunate  enough  to  win. 
We  have  only  been  here  a  few  weeks, 
and  though  the  affair  looks  somewhat 
meagre,  we  have  hopes  that  in  a  lit- 
tle time,  and  with  some  pains,  much 
may  be  done  to  make  it  habitable. 
There  is  a  capital  cJtasse  of  some  hun- 
dred acres  ;  plenty  of  wood  and  innum- 
erable rights,  seignorial,  manorial,  etc., 
which  fortunately  for  my  neighbors,  I 
neither  understand  nor  care  for  ;  and 
we  are  therefore  the  best  friends  in  the 
world.  Among  others,  I  am  styled  the 
Graf  or  Count " 

"  Well,  then,  Monsieur  le  Comte,"  said 
his  wife,  coming  in,  "do  you  intend  favor- 
ing me  with  your  company  at  coffee  this 
evening  ?  for  already  it  is  ten  o'clock  ;  and 
considering  my  former  claim  upon  Mr. 
Lorrequer,  you  have  let  me  enjoy  very  lit- 
tle of  his  society." 

We  now  adjourned  to  the  drawing-room, 
where  we  gossiped  away  till  past  midnight; 
and  I  retired  to  my  room,  meditating  over 
Jack's  adventures,  and  praying  in  my 
heart,  that,  despite  all  his  mischances,  my 
own  might  end  as  happily. 


IL I  RR  Y  L  ORREQ  UER. 


213 


CHAPTEK  LI  I. 


Tin:  rest  and  quietness  of  the  preceding 
day  had  so  far  recovered  me  from  the  ef- 
fects of  my  accident,  that  I  resolved,  a 
soon  as  breakfast  was  over, to  fake  leave  of 
my  kind  friends,  and  set  out  for  Mu- 
nich. 

"We  shall  meet  to-night,  Harry,"  said 
Waller,  as  wo  parted — "we  shall  meel  at 
the  Casino — and  don't  forget  that  the 
Croix  Blanche  is  your  hotel  :  and  Schnetz, 
the  tailor,  in  the  Grande  Place,  will  pro- 
vide you  with  everything  you  need  in  the 
way  of  dress." 

This  latter  piece  of  information  was  sat- 
isfactory, inasmuch  as  the  greater  part  of 
my  luggage,  containing  my  uniform,  etc., 
had  been  left  in  the  French  diligence  ;  and 
as  the  ball  was  patronized  by  the  Court,  1 
was  greatly  puzzled  how  to  make  my  ap- 
pearance. 

Bad  roads  and  worse  horses  made  me 
feel  the  few  leagues  before  me  the  most 
tiresome  part  of  my  journey.  But,  of 
course,  in  this  feeling  impatience  had  its 
share.  A  few  hours  more,  and  my  fate 
would  he  decided  ;  and  yet  I  thought  the 
time  would  never  come.  "If  the  Callon- 
bys  should  not  arrive — if,  again,  my  evil 
star  be  in  the  ascendant,  and  any  new  im- 
pediment to  our  meeting  arise — but  I  can- 
hot,  will  not  think  this — Fortune  must 
surely  be  tired  of  persecuting  me  by  this 
time,  and,  even  to  sustain  her  old  charac- 
ter for  fickleness,  must  befriend  me  now. 
Ah  !  here  we  are  in  Munich — and  this  is 
the  Croix  Blanche — what  a  dingy  old 
mansion!*'  Beneath  a  massive  porch, 
supported  by  heavy  stone  pillars,  stood  the 
stout  figure  of  Andreas  Behr,  the  host.  A 
white  napkin,  fastened  in  one  button-hole, 
and  hanging  gracefully  down  beside  him — 
a  soup-ladle  held  sceptre-wise  in  his  right 
hand,  and  the  grinding  motion  of  his 
nether  jaw,  all  showed  that  he  had  risen 
from  his  table  d'hote  to  welcome  the  new 
arrival  ;  ami  certainly,  if  noise  and  uproar 
might  explain  the  phenomenon,  the  clatter 
of  my  equipage  over  the  pavement  might 
have  roused  i  he  dead. 

While  my  postilion  was  endeavoring,  by 
mighty  efforts,  with  a  heavy  stone,  to  turn 
the  handle  of  the  door,  and  thus  liberate 
me  from  my  cage,  I  perceived  that  the 
host  came  forward  and  said  something  to 
him — on  replying  to  which,  he  ceased  his 
endeavors  to  open  the  door,  and  looked 
vacantly  about  him.  Upon  this  I  threw 
down  tiie  sash,  and  called  out, — 


"  I  say,  is  no!  t  his  th  I  anche  ?  " 

"Ja,"said  the  man-mountain  with  the 

napkin. 

••  \\  ell,  then,  open   t  h<    door,  pray — I'm 
going  to  Btop  hen 
in." 

"  No  !     What    do   you    mean    by   I 
I  [as    nol    Lord    ( Jallonby    i  i 
here  ?" 

"Ja." 

'•  Well,  then  .  I  am  a   par!  i  :id  of 

his,  and  will  staj  1 

"  Nein." 

"  What  the  devil  are  you  at,  with  your 
Ja  and  Nein  ?  "  r-aid  I.     "  Has  your 
founded    tongue   nothing   better    Lhan    a 
monosyllable  to  reply  with  ?  " 

Whether  disliking  the  tone  the  contro- 
versy was  assuming,  or  remembering  that 
Ids  dinner  waited,  I  know  not,  bi 
these  words  my  fat  friend  turned  leisurely 
round,  and  waddled  back  into  tie-  house  : 
where,  in  a  moment  after,  I  had  the  | 
ure  of  beholding  him  at  the  head  of  a  long 
table,  distributing  viands  with  a  very  dif- 
ferent degree  of  activity  from  what  he  dis- 
played in  dialogue. 

With  one  vigorous  jerk  I  dashed  open 
the  door,  upsetting,  at  the  same  time,  the 
poor  postilion,  who  had  recommenced  his 
operations  on  the  lock,  and.  foaming  with 
passion,  strode  into  the  salle  a  mi 
Nothing  is  such  an  immediate  damper  to 
any  sudden  explosion  of  temper,  as  the 
placid  and  unconcerned  faces  of  a  number 
of  people,  who,  ignorant  of  yourself  and 
yourpeculiar  miseries  at  the  moment.seem 
only  to  regard  you  as  a  madman.  This  I 
felt  strongly,  as,  flushed  in  face  and  ting- 
ling in  my  lingers,  I  entered  the  room. 

"Take  my  luggage,"  said  1  to  a  gaping 
waiter.  "  and  place  a  chair  there,  do  vou 
hear  ?  " 

There  seemed,  I  suppose,  something  in 
my  looks  that  did  not  admit  of  much  par- 
ley, for  the  man  made  room  for  me  at  once 
at" the  table,  and  left  the  room,  as  if  to  dis- 
charge the  other  part    of  my    injunction. 


without  saving  a  word.     A 


my    in  pin 
s  l  arrang 


ed  my 


napkin  before  me,  I  was  collecting  my  en- 
ergies and  my  German,  as  well  as  1  was 
able,  for  the  attack  of  the  host,  which,  I 
anticipated  from  Ins  recent  conduct,  must 
now  ensue  :  but.  greatly  to  mysurprise,  he 
sent  me  my  soup  without  a  word,  ami  the 
dinner  went  on  without  any  interruption. 
When  the  dessert  had  made  its  appearance, 
I  beckoned  the  waiter  toward  me.  and  ask- 
ed what,  the  landlord  meant  by  his  singular 
reception  of  me.  The  man  shrugged  his 
shoulders  and  raised  his  eyebrows  without 
speaking,  as  if  to  imply,  "  It's  his  way." 


214 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


"  Well,  then,  no  matter,"  said  I.  "  Have 
you  sent  my  luggage  upstairs  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  there  is  no  room — the  house  is 
full." 

"The  house  full  !  Confound  it — this  is 
too  provoking.  I  have  most  urgent  reasons 
for  wishing  to  stay  here.  Cannot  you 
make  some  arrangement — see  about  it, 
waiter."  I  here  slipped  a  napoleon  into 
the  fellow's  hand,  and  hinted  that  as  much 
more  awaited  the  finale  of  the  negotiation. 

In  about  a  minute  after,  I  perceived  him 
behind  the  host's  chair  pleading  my  cause 
with  considerable  energy  ;  but  to  my  com- 
plete chagrin  I  heard  the  other  answer  all 
his  eloquence  by  a  loud  "  Nein,"  that  he 
grunted  out  in  such  a  manner  as  closed  the 
conference. 

"I  cannot  succeed,  sir,"  said  the  man, 
as  he  passed  behind  me,  "  but  don't  leave 
the  house  till  I  speak  with  you  again." 

"  What  confounded  mystery  is  there  in 
all  this  ?  "  thought  I.  "  Is  there  anything 
so  suspicious  in  my  look  or  appearance, 
that  the  old  bear  in  the  fur  cap  will  not 
even  admit  me  ?  What  can  it  all  mean  ? 
One  thing  I'm  resolved  upon — nothing  less 
than  force  shall  remove  me." 

So  saying,  I  lit  my  cigar,  and  in  order  to 
give  the  waiter  an  opportunity  of  confer- 
ring with  me  unobserved  by  his  master, 
walked  out  into  the  porch  and  sat  down. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  joined  me,  and  after 
a  stealthy  look  on  each  side,  said, — 

"  The  Herr  Andreas  is  a  hard  man  to 
deal  with,  and  when  he  says  a  thing,  never 
goes  back  of  it.  Now,  he  has  been  expect- 
ing the  new  English  Charge  d'Affaires 
here  these  last  ten  days,  and  has  kept  the 
hotel  half  empty  in  consequence  ;  and  as 
Milor  Callonby  has  engaged  the  other  half, 
why  we  have  nothing  to  do  ;  so  that  when 
he  asked  the  postilion  if  you  were  milor, 
and  found  that  you  were  not,  he  determin- 
ed not  to  admit  you." 

"  But  why  not  have  the  civility  to  ex- 
plain that  ?  " 

"  He  seldom  speaks  ;  and  when  he  does, 
only  a  word  or  two  at  a  time.  He  is  quite 
tired  with  what  he  has  gone  through  to- 
day, and  will  retire  very  early  to  bed  ;  and 
for  this  reason  I  have  requested  you  to  re- 
main, for  as  he  never  ventures  upstairs,  I 
will  then  manage  to  give  you  one  of  the 
ambassador's  rooms,  which,  even  if  he 
come,  he'll  never  miss.  So  that  if  you 
keep  quiet,  and  do  not  attract  any  particu- 
lar attention  toward  you,  all  will  go  well." 

This  advice  seemed  so  reasonable,  that  I 
determined  to  follow  it,  any  inconvenience 
being  preferable,  provided  I  could  be  under 
the  same  roof  witli  my  beloved  Jane  ;  and 


from  (lie  waiter's  account,  there  seemed  no 
doubt  whatever  of  their  arrival  that  even- 
ing. In  Order,  therefore,  to  follow  his  in 
junctions  to  the  letter,  I  strolled  out  to- 
ward the  Place  in  search  of  the  tailor,  and 
also  to  deliver  a  letter  from  Waller  to  the 
chamberlain,  to  provide  me  with  a  card  for 
the  ball.  Monsieur  Schnetz,  who  was  the 
very  pinnacle  of  politeness,  was  neverthe- 
less, in  fact,  nearly  as  untractable  as  my 
host  of  the  "  Cross."  All  his  people  were 
engaged  in  preparing  a  suit  for  the  English 
Charge  d'Affaires,  whose  trunks  had  been 
sent  in  a  wrong  direction,  and  who  had 
dispatched  a  courier  from  Frankfort  to 
order  a  uniform.  This  second  thwarting, 
and  from  the  same  source,  so  nettled  me, 
that  I  greatly  fear  all  my  respect  for  the 
Foreign  Office,  and  those  who  live  thereby, 
would  not  have  saved  them  from  some- 
thing most  unlike  a  blessing,  had  not 
Monsieur  Schnetz  saved  diplomacy  from 
such  desecration  by  saying,  that  if  I  could 
content  myself  with  a  plain  suit,  such  as 
civilians  wore,  he  would  do  his  endeavor  to 
accommodate  me. 

"Anything,  Monsieur  Schnetz;  dress 
me  like  the  Pope's  Nuncio,  or  the  Lord 
Mayor  of  London,  if  you  like,  but  only 
enable  me  to  go." 

Although  my  reply  did  not  seem  to  con- 
vey a  very  exalted  idea  of  my  taste  in  cos- 
tume to  the  worthy  artist,  it  at  least  evinced 
my  anxiety  for  the  ball ;  and  running  his 
measure  over  me,  he  assured  me  that  the 
dress  he  would  provide  was  both  Avell-look- 
ing  and  becoming;  adding,  "At  nine 
o'clock,  sir,  you'll  have  it,  exactly  the  same 
size  as  his  Excellency  the  Charge  d'Af- 
faires." 

"  Confound  the  Charge  d'Affaires ! "  I 
added,  and  left  the  house. 


CHAPTER  LIII. 


INN  AT   MUNICH. 


As  I  had  never  been  in  Munich  before, 
I  strolled  about  the  town  till  dusk.  At 
that  time  the  taste  of  the  King  had  not 
enriched  the  capital  with  the  innumerable 
objects  of  art  which  render  it  now  second 
to  none  in  Europe.  There  were,  indeed, 
then  but  few  attractions — narrow  streets, 
tall,  unarchitectural-looking  houses,  and 
gloomy,  unimpressive  churches.  Tired  of 
this,  I  turned  toward  my  inn,  wondering 
in  my  mind  if  Antoine  had  succeeded  in 
procuring  me  the  room,  or  whether  I  should 
be  obliged  to  seek  my  lodging  elsewhere. 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


215 


Scarcely  had  I  entered  the  porch,  when  I 
found  him  awaiting  my  arrival,  candle  in 
hand.  He  conducted  me  at  once  up  the 
wide  oaken  stair,  then  along  the  gallery, 

into  a  large  wainscoted  room,  with  a  most 
capacious  bed.  A  <  heerful  wood  fire  burn- 
ed ami  crackled  away  m  the  grate — the 
cloth  was  already  spread  for  supper — (re- 
member it  was  in  Germany) — the  newspa- 
pers of  the  day  were  placed  before  me  : 
and,  in  a  word,  every  attention  showed 
that  I  had  found  the  true  avenue  to  An- 
toine's  good  graces,  who  now  stood  bowing 
before  me,  in  apparent  ecstasy  at  his  own 
cleverness. 

"  All  very  well  done,  Antoine  ;  and  now 
for  supper.  Order  it  yourself  for  me  ;  I 
never  can  find  my  way  in  a  German  speiss- 
carte  ;  and  be  sure  to  have  a  fiacre  here  at 
nine — nine  precisely." 

Antoine  withdrew7,  leaving  me  to  my 
own  reflections,  which  now,  if  not  gloomy, 
were  still  of  the  most  anxious  kind. 

Scarcely  was  the  supper  placed  upon  the 
table,  when  a  tremendous  tramping  of 
horses  along  the  street,  and  loud  cracking 
of  whips,  announced  a  new  arrival. 

"Here  they  are  !"  said  I,  as,  springing 
up,  I  upset  the  soup,  and  nearly  threw  the 
roti  into  Antoine's  face,  as  he  was  putting 
it  before  me. 

Downstairs  I  rushed  through  the  hall, 
pushing  aside  waiters  and  overturning 
chambermaids  in  my  course.  The  carriage 
was  already  at  the  door.  "  Now  for  a  sur- 
prise," thought  I,  as  I  worked  through  the 
crowd  in  the  porch,  and  reached  the  door 
just  as  the  steps  were  clattered  down,  and 
a  gentleman  began  to  descend,  whom  twen- 
ty expectant  voices,  now  informed  of  his 
identity,  welcomed  as  the  new  Charge 
d'Aff  aires. 

"  May  all  the " 

What  I  wished  for  his  Excellency  it 
would  not  be  polite  to  repeat,  nor  most 
discreet  even  to  remember ;  but,  certes,  I 
mounted  the  stairs  with  as  little  goodwill 
toward  the  envoy  extraordinary  as  was  con- 
sistent with  due  loyalty. 

When  once  more  in  my  room,  I  congrat- 
ulated myself  that  now  at  least  no  more 
"  false  starts  "  could  occur  :  "  The  eternal 
Charge  d' Affaires,  of  whom  I  have  been 
hearing  since  my  arrival,  cannot  come 
twice.  He  is  here,  now,  and  I  hope  I've 
done  with  him." 

The  supper — some greasiness  apart — was 
good  ;  the  wine  excellent.  My  spirits  were 
gradually  rising,  and  I  paced  my  room  in 
that  mingled  state  of  hope  and  fear,  that, 
amid  all  its  anxieties,  has  such  moments  of 
ecstasy.     A  new  noise  without — some  rab- 


ble  in  the  str<  et  ;  hark  !  il  comes  m 
I   hear  t  he  sound  of  wheels  ;  yes,  thi 
the  horses — nearer  and    nearer.     Ali.it   is 
dying  away  again-  -.  In  re   il 

is,  here  I  lev  are  !  The  noise  and  tumult 
withoul  now  increased  every  instanl  ;  the 
heavy  trol  of  six  or  eight  horses  shook  the 
very  street,  and  I  heard  the  round,  dull, 
rumbling  sound  of  a  heavy  carriage,  as  it 
drew  up  at  last  at  the  door  of  the  inn. 
Why  it  was  I  know  not,  !>ut  tin-  time  I 
could  not  stir;  my  hearl  beat  almost  loud 
enough  for  me  to  hear  ;  my  temples 
throbbed,  and  then  a  cold  and  clammy 
perspiration  came  over  me,  and  I  sank  in- 
to a  chair.  Fearing  that  I  was  about  t<» 
faint,  sick  as  I  was,  I  felt  angry  with  my- 
self, and  tried  to  rally,  but  could  not.  and 
only  at  length  was  roused  by  hearing  that 
the  steps  were  let  down,  and  shortly  after, 
the  tread  of  feet  coming  along  the  gallery 
toward  my  room. 

"They  are  coming — she  is  coming," 
thought  I.      "  Now  then  for  my  doom  !  *' 

There  was  some  noise  of  voices  outside. 
I  listened,  for  I  still  felt  unable  to  rise. 
The  talking  grew  louder — doors  wereopen- 
ed  and  shut — then  came  a  lull — then  more 
slamming  of  doors  and  more  talking— then 
all  was  still  again — and  at  last  I  heard  the 
steps  of  people  as  if  retiring,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  after,  the  carriage  door  was  jam- 
med to,  and  again  the  heavy  tramp  of  the 
horses  rattled  over  the  pave.  At  this  in- 
stant Antoine  entered. 

•'Well,  Antoine,"  said  I.  in  a  voice 
trembling  with  weakness  and  agitation — 
"  well,  who  has  arrived  ?" 

"  It  was  his  Grace  the  Grand  Marechal," 
said  Antoine,  scarcely  heeding  my  ques- 
tion, in  the  importance  of  the  illustrious 
visitor  who  had  come. 

"  Ah,  the  Grand  Marechal."  said  I.  care- 
lessly ;  "  does  he  live  here  ?  " 

"  Sappermint  nein,  Mem  Herr  ;  but  he 
has  just  been  to  pay  his  respects  to  his  Ex- 
cellency the  new  Charge  d"  Affaires." 

In  the  name  of  all  patience.  I  ask.  who 
could  endure  this  .  From  the  hour  of  my 
arrival  I  am  haunted  by  this  one  imago — 
the  Charge  d' Affaires.  For  him  I  have 
been  almost  condemned  to  go  house' 
and  naked  ;  and  now  the  most  sacred  feel- 
ings of  my  heart  are  subject  to  his  influ- 
ence. I  walked  up  and  down  in  an  agon  v. 
"Another  such  disappointment,  and  my 
brain  will  turn."  thought  I,  "and  they 
may  write  my  epitaph — '  Died  of  \o\c  and 
a  Charge  d'Affaires.  " 

"  It  is  time  to  dress,"  said  the  waiter. 

"I  could  strangle  him  with  my  own 
hands,"   muttered   1,    worked    up    into   a 


216 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


real  heat  by  the  excitement  of  my  pas- 
sion. 

"The  Charge " 

"Say  that  name  again,  villain,  and  I'll 
blow  your  brains  out,"  cried  I,  seizing 
Antoine  by  the  throat,  and  pinning  him 
against  the  wall  ;  "only  dare  to  mutter  it, 
and  you'll,  never  breathe  another  sylla- 
ble." 

The  poor  fellow  grew  green  with  terror, 
and  fell  upon  his  knees  before  me. 

"  Get  my  dressing  things  ready,"  said  I. 
in  a  more  subdued  tone.  "  I  did  not  mean 
to  terrify  you — but  beware  of  what  I  told 
you." 

While  Antoine  occupied  himself  with 
the  preparations  for  my  toilet,  I  sat  brood- 
ingly  over  the  wood  embers,  thinking  of 
my  fate. 

A  knock  came  to  the  door.  It  was  the 
tailor's  servant  with  my  clothes.  He  laid 
down  the  parcel  and  retired,  while  Antoine 
proceeded  to  open  it,  and  exhibit  before 
me  a  blue  uniform  with  embroidered  col- 
lar and  cuffs — the  whole,  without  being 
gaudy,  being  sufficiently  handsome,  and 
quite  as  showy  as  I  could  wish. 

The  poor  waiter  expressed  his  unquali- 
fied approval  of  the  costume,  and  talked 
away  about  the  approaching  ball  as  some- 
thing pre-eminently  magnificent. 

"You  had  better  look  -after  the  fiacre, 
Antoine,"  said  I ;  "it  is  past  nine." 

He  walked  toward  the  door,  opened  it, 
and  then  turning  round,  said,  in  a  kind  of 
low,  confidential  whisper,  pointing,  with 
the  thumb  of  his  left  hand  toward  the 
wall  of  the  room  as  he  spoke, — 

"  He  won't  go — very  strange  that." 

"  Who  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  I,  quite  un- 
conscious of  the  allusion. 

"The  Charge  d'Aff " 

I  made  one  spring  at  him,  but  he  slam- 
med the  door  to,  and  before  I  could  reach 
the  lobby,  I  heard  him  rolling  from  top  to 
bottom  of  the  oak  staircase,  making  noise 
enough  in  his  fall  to  account  for  the  frac- 
ture of  every  bone  in  his  body. 


CHAPTER  LIV. 


As  I  was  informed  that  the  King  would 
himself  be  present  at  the  ball,  I  knew  that 
Court  etiquette  required  that  the  company 
should  arrive  before  his"  Majesty  ;  and,  al- 
though at  every  minute  I  expected  the  ar- 
rival of  the  Callonbys,  I  dared  not  defer 
my  departure  any  longer. 

"  They  are  certain  to  be  at  the  ball," 


said  Waller,  and  that  sentence  never  left 
my  mind. 

So  saying  T  jumped  into  the  fiacre,  and 
in  a  Few  minutes  found  myself  in  the  long 
line  of  carriages  that  led  to  the  "  1 1  of-saal. 
Any  one  who  has  been  in  Munich  will 
testify  for  me,  that  the  ball-room  is  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  in  Europe,  and  to  me, 
who  for  some  time  had  not  been  living 
much  in  the  world,  its  splendor  was  posi- 
tively dazzling.  The  glare  of  the  chande- 
liers, the  clang  of  the  music,  the  magnifi- 
cence of  the  dresses,  the  beauty  of  the  Ba- 
varian women,  too,  all  surprised  and  amaz- 
ed me.  There  were  several  hundred  people 
present,  but  the  King  not  having  yet  ar- 
rived, dancing  had  not  commenced.  Feel- 
ing as  I  did  then,  it  was  rather  a  relief  to 
me  than  otherwise,  that  I  knew  no  one. 
There  was  quite  amusement  enough  in 
walking  through  the  saloons,  observing  the 
strange  costumes,  and  remarking  the  vari- 
ous groups  as  they  congregated  around  the 
trays  of  ices  and  the  champagne  frappe. 
The  buzz  of  talking  and  the  sounds  of 
laughter  and  merriment  prevailed  over 
even  the  orchestra;  and,  as  the  gay  crowds 
paraded  the  rooms,  all  seemed  pleasure  and 
excitement.  Suddenly  a  tremendous  noise 
was  heard  without — then  came  a  loud  roll 
of  the  drums,  which  lasted  for  several  se- 
conds, and  the  clank  of  musketry — then  a 
cheer  ; it  is  the  King. 

"  The  King  !  "  resounded  on  all  sides  ; 
and  in  another  moment  the  folding-doors 
at  the  end  of  the  saal  were  thrown  open, 
and  the  music  struck  up  the  national  an- 
them of  Bavaria. 

His  Majesty  entered,  accompanied  by  the 
Queen,  his  brother,  two  or  three  Archdu- 
chesses, and  a  long  suite  of  officers. 

I  could  not  help  remarking  upon  the 
singular  good  taste  with  which  the  assem- 
bly— all  anxious  and  eager  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  his  Majesty — behaved  on  this 
occasion.  There  was  no  pressing  forward 
to  the  estrade  where  he  stood — no  vulgar 
curiosity  evinced  by  any  one,  but  the 
groups  continued,  as  before,  to  gather  and 
scatter.  The  only  difference  being,  that 
the  velvet  chair  and  cushion,  which  had 
attracted  some  observers  before,  were,  now 
that  they  were  tenanted  by  royalty,  passed 
with  a  deep  and  respectful  salutation. 
"  How  proper  this,"  thought  I,  "  and  what 
an  inducement  for  a  monarch  to  come 
among  his  people,  who  remember  to  receive 
him  with  such  true  politeness."  While 
these  thoughts  were  passing  through  my 
mind,  and  1  was  leaning  against  a  pillar 
that  supported  the  gallery  of  the  orchestra, 
a  gentleman  whose  dress,  covered  with  gold 


II A  RR  Y  L  ORREQ  UER. 


217 


uud  embroidery,  bespoke  him  as  belong 
to  the  court,  eyed  me  with  hie  lorgnette, 
and  then  passed  rapidly  on.  A  quadrille 
was  now  forming  near  me,  and  I  was  watch- 
ing, with  some  interest,  the  proceeding, 
when  the  same  figure  that  I  remarked  be- 
fore, approached  me,  bowing  deeply  at 
every  step,  and  shaking  a  halo  of  powder 
from  his  hair  at  each  reverence. 

"May  I  take  the  liberty  of  introducing 
myself  to  you?"  said  he.  "Le  Comte 
Benningsen."  Here  he  bowed  again,  and 
I  returned  the  obeisance  still  deeper. — 
"Regret  much  that  1  was  not  fortunate 
enough  to  make  your  acquaintance  this 
.evening,  when  I  called  upon  yon,"  said  he, 
with  another  salutation. 

"Never  heard  of  that,"  said  I  to  my- 
self. 

"  Your  Excellency  arrived  this  even- 
ing?" 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  only  a  few  hours  since." 

'"'How fond  these  Germans  are  of  titles," 
thought  I.  Remembering  that  in  Vienna 
every  one  is  "his  Grace,"  I  thought  it 
might  be  Bavarian  politeness  to  cab  every 
one  his  Excellency. 

"You  have  not  been  presented,  I  be- 
lieve ?  " 

"No,"  said  I  ;  "but  I  hope  to  take  an 
early  opportunity  of  paying  vies  hommages 
to  his  Majesty." 

"I  have  just  received  his  orders  to  pre- 
sent you  now,"  replied  he,  with  another 
bow. 

"  The  devil  you  have,"  thought  I. 
" How  very  civil  that."  And,  although  I 
had  heard  innumerable  anecdotes  of  the 
free-and-easy  habits  of  the  Bavarian  Court, 
this  certainly  surprised  me,  so  that  I  actual- 
ly, to  prevent  a  blunder,  said,"'  Am  I  to  un- 
derstand you,  Monsieur  le  Comte,  that  his 
Majesty  was  graciously  pleased " 

"If  you  will  follow  me,"  replied  the 
courtier,  motioning  with  his  chapeau  ; 
and  in  another  moment  I  was  elbowing 
my  way  through  the  mob  of  Marquises 
and  Duchesses,  on  my  way  to  the  raised 
platform  where  the  King  was  standing. 

"  Heaven  grant  I  have  not  misunder- 
stood all  he  has  been  saying,"  was  my  last 
thought,  as  the  crowd  of  courtiers  fell  back 
on  either  side,  and  I  found  myself  before 
his  Majesty.  How  the  Grand  Marechal 
entitled  me,  I  heard  not  ;  but  when  the 
King  addressed  me  immediately  in  Eng- 
lish, saying,  "I  hope  your  excellency  has 
had  a  good  journey  ?  "  I  said  to  myself, 
"  Come,  there  is  no  mistake  here,  Harry  ; 
and  it  is  only  another  freak  of  fortune, 
who  is  now  in  good  humor  with  you." 

The  King,  who  was  a  fine,  tall,  well-built 


man,  with  a  large,  bushy  moustache,  pos- 
ed, though  not  handsome,  u  mosl  p] 
ing   expression;    his    utterance    was   very 

d,  and    hi-  English    • 
I  so  that  it  was  with  I  b  I  difficulty  1 

contrived  to  follow  hi  quesl ions,  which 
came  t hick  as  hail  upon  me.  Afti  r  3ome 
commonplaces  about  the  roads,  the  weath- 
<  v.  an  I  the  seasons,  his  Majesty  said, — 

••  My    Lord   Callonby  ha.-   been  residing 
some  time  here.      Von  know  him  ?  "    .' 
then,    not      waiting    for     a    reply,    added, 
"  Pleasant    person  —  well     informed — like 
him   much,  and    his   daughtei  how 

handsome  t  hey  are  !  "  Here  I  blushed, 
and  felt  most  awkwardly,  while  the  King 
continued, — 

'•'Hope  they  will  remain  some  time — 
quite  an  ornament  to  our  court.  Monsieur 
le  Comte,  his  Excellency  will  dame."  I 
here  muttered  an  apology  about  my 
sprained  ankle,  and  the  King  turned  to 
.converse  with  some  of  the  ladies  of  the 
court.  His  Majesty's  notice  brought  sev- 
eral persons  now  around  me,  who  intro- 
duced themselves  ;  and  in  a  quarter  of  an 
hour,  I  felt  myself  surrounded  by  ac- 
quaintances, each  vying  with  the  other  in 
showing  me  attention. 

••  Worse  places  than  Munich.  Master 
Harry,"  thought  I,  as  I  chaperoned  a  fat 
Duchess,  with  fourteen  quarterings,  toward 
the  refreshment-room,  and  had  just  ac- 
cepted invitations  enough  to  occupy  me 
three  weeks  in  advance. 

"  I  have  been  looking  everywhere  for 
your  Excellency."  said  the  Grand  Mare- 
chal, bustling  his  way  to  me,  breathless 
and  panting.  "His  Majesty  desires  you 
will  make  one  of  his  party  at  whist,  so 
pray  come  at  once." 

"  Figaro  qua,  Figaro  la,"  muttered 
I.  "Never  was  man  in  such  requi 
Heaven  grant  the  whole  royal  family  of 
Bavaria  be  not  mad,  for  this  looks  very 
like  it.  Lady  Jane  had  better  look  sharp, 
for  I  have  only  to  throw  my  eyes  on  an 
Archduchess,  to  be  King  of  the  Bavarian 
Tyrol  some  fine  morn: 

"  You  play  whist,  of  course  ;  every 
Englishman  does,"  said  the  King.  "  You 
shall  be  my  partner." 

Our  adversaries  were  the  Prime  Max- 
imilian, brother  to  his  Majesty  and  the 
Prussian  Ambassador.  As  1  sal  down  at 
the  table.  I  could  net  help  saying  in  my 
heart,  "Now  is  your  time,  Harry j  if  my 
Lord  Callonby  should  see  you,  your  for- 
tune is  made."  Waller  passed  at  this  mo- 
ment, and  as  he  saluted  the  King,  I  saw 
him  actually  start  with  amazement  as  he 
beheld  me.—"  Better  fun  this  than  figur- 


218 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


ing  in  the  yellow  plush.  Master  Jack,"  T 
muttered,  as  he  passed  on,  actually  thun- 
derstruck with  amazement.  IVut  the  game 
was  begun,  and  I  was  obliged  to  be  atten- 
tive. We  won  the  first  game,  and  the 
King  was  in  immense  good  humor  as  he 
took  some  franc  pieces  from  the  Prussian 
minister,  who,  small  as  the  slake  was. 
seemed  not  to  relish  losing.  His  Majesty 
now  complimented  me  upon  my  play,  and 
was  about  to  add  something,  when  he  per- 
ceived some  one  in  the  crowd,  and  sent  an 
aide-de-camp  for  him. 

"Ah,  my  Lord,  we  expected  you  earli- 
er ;  "  and  then  said  some  words  in  too  low 
a  tone  for  me  to  hear,  motioning  toward 
me  as  he  spoke.  If  Waller  was  surprised 
at  seeing  me  where  I  was,  it  was  nothing 
to  the  effect  produced  upon  the  present 
party,  whom  I  now  recognized  as  Lord 
Callonby.  Respect  for  the  presence  we 
were  in  restrained  any  expression  on  either 
side,  and  a  more  ludicrous  tableau  than 
we  presented  can  scarcely  be  conceived. 
What  I  would  have  given  that  the  whist 
party  was  over,  I  need  not  say,  and  cer- 
tainly his  Majesty's  eulogy  upon  my  play 
came  too  soon,  for  I  was  now  so  discom- 
posed, my  eyes  wandering  from  the  table 
to  see  if  Lady  Jane  was  near,  that  I  lost 
every  trick,  and  finished  by  revoking. 
The  King  rose  half  pettishly,  observing 
that  "  His  Excellency  seems  fatigued," 
and  I  rushed  forward  to  shake  hands  with 
Lord  Callonby,  totally  forgetting  the  royal 
censure  in  my  delight  at  discovering  my 
friend. 

"  Lorrequer,  I  am  indeed  rejoiced  to  see 
you,  and  when  did  you  arrive  ?  " 

"  This  evening." 

"  This  evening  !  and  how  the  deuce  have 
you  contrived  already,  eh  ? — why  you  seem 
quite  at  home  here  ?" 

"  You  shall  hear  all,"  said  I,  hastily  ; 
"  but  is  Lady  Callonby  here  ?" 

"  No.  Kilkee  only  is  with  me  ;  there  he 
is,  figuranting  away  in  a  galop.  The  la- 
dies were  too  tired  to  come  ;  particularly 
as  they  dine  at  court  to-morrow,  the  fatigue 
would  be  too  great." 

"I  have  his  Majesty's  order  to  invite 
your  Excellency  to  dinner  to-morrow," 
said  the  Grand  Marechal,  coming  up  at 
this  instant. 

I  bowed  my  acknowledgments,  and  turn- 
ed again  to  Lord  Callonby,  whose  surprise 
now  seemed  to  have  reached  the  climax. 

"  Why,  Lorrequer,  I  never  heard  of  this  ; 
— when  did  you  adopt  this  new  career  ?" 

Not  understanding  the  gist  of  the  ques- 
tion, and  conceiving  that  it  applied  to  my 
success  at  court,  I  answered  at  random, 


something  about  "falling  upon  my  legs, 
good  luck,  etc.,"  and  once  more  returned 
to  the  charge,  inquiring  most  anxiously  for 
Lady  Callonby's  heal!  h. 

"Ah  !  she  is  tolerably  well.  Jane  is  the 
only  invalid  ;  but  then  we  hope  Ilalv  will 
restore  her."  Just  at  this  instant,  Kilkee 
caught  my  eye,  and  rushing *over  from  his 
place  beside  his  partner,  shook  me  by  both 
hands',  saying, — 

"Delighted  to  see  you  here,  Lorrequer  : 
but  as  1  can'l  stay  now,  promise  to  sup 
with  me  to-night  at  the  'Cross.'" 

I  accepted  of  course,  and  the  next  in- 
stant he  was  whirling  along  in  his  waltz, 
with  one  of  the  most  lovely  German  girls 
I  ever  saw.  Lord  Callonby  saw  my  admi- 
ration of  her,  and  as  it  wrere  replying  to  my 
gaze,  remarked, — 

"  Yes,  very  handsome,  indeed :  but 
really  Kilkee  is  going  too  far  with  it.  I 
rely  very  much  upon  you  to  reason  him 
out  of  his  folly,  and  we  have  all  agreed 
that  you  have  most  influence  over  him, 
and  are  most  likely  to  be  listened  to  pa- 
tiently." 

Here  was  a  new  character  assigned  me, 
the  confidential  friend  and  adviser  of  the 
family,  trusted  with  a  most  delicate  and 
important  secret,  likely  to  bring  me  into 
most  intimate  terms  of  intercourse' with 
them  all,  for  the  "  we"  of  Lord  Callonby 
bespoke  a  family  consultation,  in  which  I 
was  deputed  as  the  negotiator.  I  at  once 
promised  my  assistance,  saying,  at  the 
same  time,  that  if  Kilkee  really  was 
strongly  attached,  and  had  also  reason  to 
suppose  that  the  lady  liked  him,  it  was  not 
exactly  fair  ;  that  in  short,  if  the  matter 
had  gone  beyond  flirtation,  any  interfer- 
ence of  mine  would  be  imprudent,  if  not 
impertinent.  Lord  Callonby  smiled  slight- 
ly as  he  replied, — 

"  Quite  right,  Lorrequer  ;  I  am  just  as 
much  against  constraint  as  yourself,  if  on- 
ly no  great  barriers  exist  ;  but  here,  with 
a  difference  of  religion,  country,  language, 
habits,  in  fact,  everything  that  can  create 
disparity,  the  thing  is  not  to  be  thought 
of." 

I  suspected  that  his  lordship  read  in  my 
partial  defense  of  Kilkee  a  slight  attempt 
to  prop  up  my  own  case,  and  felt  confused 
and  embarrassed  beyond  measure  at  the 
detection. 

"  Well,  we  shall  have  time  enough  for 
all  this.  Now  let  us  hear  something  of 
my  old  friend  Sir  Guy.  How  is  he  look- 
ing ?  " 

"  I  am  unfortunately  unable  to  give  you 
any  account  of  him.  I  left  Paris  the  very 
day  before  he  was  expected  to  arrive  there.  * 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


219 


"Oh,  then,  I  have  all  the  news  myself 
in  that  case,  for  in  his  letter  which  I  re- 
ceived yesterday,  he  incut  ions  that  we  are 
not  to  expect  him  before  Tuesday." 

"Expect  him.  Is  he  coming  here 
then?" 

"Yes.  Why,  I  thought  you  were  aware 
of  that;  he  has  been  long  promising  to 
pay  us  a  visit,  and  at  last,  by  great  persua- 
sion, we  have  succeeded  in  getting  him 
across  the  sea,  and,  indeed,  were  it  ooi 
that  he  was  coming,  we  should  have  been 
in  Florence  before  this." 

A  gleam  of  hope  shot  through  my  heart 
as  I  said  to  myself,  "  What  can  this  visit 
mean  ?"  and  the  moment  after  I  felt  .sick, 
almost  fainting,  as  I  asked  if  my  cousin 
Guy  was  also  expected. 

"Oh,  yes.  We  shall  want  him,  I  should 
think,"  said  Lord  Callonby,  with  a  very 
peculiar  smile. 

I  thought  I  should  have  fallen  at  these 
few  words.  "  Come,  Harry,"  thought  I,  "it 
is  better  to  learn  your  fate  at  once.  Now  or 
never  ;  death  itself  were  preferable  to  this 
continued  suspense.  If  the  blow  is  to  fall, 
it  can  scarcely  sink  me  lower  than  I  now 
feel."  So  reasoning,  I  laid  my  hand  upon 
Lord  Callonby's  arm,  and  with  a  face  pale 
as  death,  and  a  voice  all  but  inarticulate, 
said, — 

"  My'  lord,  you  will  pardon,  I  am 
sure " 

"  My  dear  Lorrequer,"  said  his  Lord- 
ship, interrupting  me,  "for  heaven's  sake 
sit  down.  How  ill  you  are  looking  ;  we 
must  nurse  you,  my  poor  fellow." 

I  sank  upon  a  bench — the  light  danced 
before  my  eyes — the  clang  of  the  music 
sounded  like  the  roar  of  a  waterfall,  and  I 
felt  a  cold  perspiration  burst  over  my  face 
and  forehead  ;  at  the  instant  I  recognized 
Kilkee's  voice,  and  without  well  knowing 
why  or  how,  discovered  myself  in  the  open 
air. 

"  Come,  you  are  better  now,"  said  Kil- 
kee,  "  and  will  be  quite  well  when  you  get 
some  supper,  and  a  little  of  the  tokay  his 
Majesty  has  been  good  enough  to  send 
us." 

"  His  Majesty  desires  to  know  if  his 
Excellency  is  better,"  said  an  aide-de- 
camp. 

1  muttered  my  most  grateful  acknowl- 
edgments. 

"  One  of  the  Court  carriages  is  in  wait- 
ing for  your  Excellency,"  said  a  venerable 
old  gentleman  in  a  tie  wig,  whom  I  recog- 
nized as  the  Minister  for  Foreign  Affair-, 
as  he  added,  in  a  lower  tone,  to  Lord  Cal- 
lonby, "  I  fear  he  has  been  greatly  over- 
worked lately.     His  exertions  on  the  sub- 


i  ject  of  the  Greek  Loan  arc  well  known  to 
his  Majesty." 

"Indeed  !"said   Lord  Callonby,  with   a 

!  start  of  surprise ;  "I  never  heard  of  that 
before." 

If  it  had  nol  been  for  that  Btarl  of 
amazement,  I  should  have  died  of  terror. 
It  was  the  only  thing  thai  showed  me  I 
was  not.  out   of  my  senses,   which    I   now 

'concluded  the  old  gentleman  musl  be,  for 
I  never  had  heard  of  the  < .reck  Loan  in 
my  life  before." 

••  Farewell  !  mon  cher  collegne,"  Baid 
the  venerable  minister,  as  I  gol   into  the 

|  carriage,  wondering,  as  well  I  might,  what 
singular  hand  of  brotherhood   united  one 
of  his   Majesty's  4 — th  with  the  Minis 
for  Foreign  Affairs  of  the  Court  of  Ba- 
varia. 

When  I  arrived  at  the  "While  (  ross," 
I  found  my  nerves,  usually  proof  to  any- 
thing, so  shaken  and  shattered,  that,  fear- 
ing, with  the  difficult  game  before  me,  any 
mistake  however  trivial,  might  mar  all  my 
fortunes  for  ever,  I  said  a  "Good-night" 
to  my  friends,  and  went  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  LV. 


A   DISCOVERY. 


"  A  note  for  Monsieur,"  said  the  waiter, 
awaking  me  at  the  same  time  from  the 
soundest  sleep  and  the  most  delightful 
dream.     The  billet  was  thus  : — 

"If  'your  Excellency'  does  not  intend 
to  slumber  during  the  next  twenty-four 
hours,  it  might  be  as  well  to  remember 
that  we  are  waiting  breakfast.    Ever  yours, 

"KlLKEE." 

"It  is  true,  then,"  said  I,  following  up 
the  delusion  of  my  dream — "it  is  true  I 
am  really  domesticated  once  more  with  the 
Callonbys  ;  my  suit  is  prospering,  and  at 
length  the  long-sought,  long  hoped-for 
moment  is  come " 

"Well,  Harry,"  said  Kilkee,  as  he 
dashed  open  the  door — "well,  Harry,  how 
are  you? — better  than  last  night,  I  hope  ?" 

"Oh  !  yes,  considerably.  In  fact,  I  can't 
think  what  could  have  been  the  matter 
with  me  ;  but  I  felt  confoundedlv  uncom- 
fortable." 

••You  did!  Why.  man.  what  can  you 
mean  ?     Was  it  not  a  joke  ?" 

"A  joke  !  -'  said  I,  with  a  start. 

••  Yes,  to  be  sure.  1  thought,  it  was  only 
the  sequel  of  the  other  humbug." 


220 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


"'The  sequel  of  the  other  humbug!' 
Gracious  mercy,"  thought  r,  getting  pair 
with  horror,  "is  it  thus  he  ventures  to 
designate  my  attachment  to  his  sister  ?" 

"Come,  come,  it's  all  over  now.  What 
the  devil  could  have  persuaded  you  to 
push  the  thing  so  far  ?  " 

"Really,  l  am  so  completely  in  the  dark 
as  to  your  meaning,  that  1  only  get  deeper 
in  the  mystery  by  my  chance  replies. 
What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  What,  do  I  mean  ?  Why,  the  affair  of 
last  night  of  course.  All  Munich  is  full 
of  it;  and  most  fortunately  for  you,  the 
King  has  taken  it  all  in  the  most  good- 
humored  way,  and  laughs  more  than  any 
one  else  about  it," 

"Oh,  then,"  thought  I,  "I  must  have 
done  or  said  something  last  night,  during 
my  illness,  that  I  can't  remember  now. 
Come,  Kilkee,  out  with  it.  What  hap- 
pened last  night,  that  has  served  to  amuse 
the  good  people  of  Munich  ?  for  as  I  am 
a  true  man,  I  forget,  all  you  are  alluding  to." 

"  And  don't  remember  the  Greek  Loan, 
eh?" 

"The  Greek  Loan?" 

"  And  your  Excellency's  marked  recep- 
tion by  his  Majesty  ?  liy  Jove  !  though, 
it  was  the  rarest  piece  of  impudence  I  ever 
heard  of  :  hoaxing  a  crowned  head,  quiz- 
zing one  of  the  Lord's  anointed,  is  un  peu 
trap  forL" 

"If  you  really  do  not  wish  to  render  me 
insane  at  once,  for  the  love  of  mercy  say, 
in  plain-  terms,  what  all  this  means." 

"Come,  come,  I  see  you  are  incorrigi- 
ble ;  but  as  breakfast  is  waiting  all  this 
time,  we  shall  have  your  explanations  be- 
low stairs." 

Before  I  had  time  for  another  question, 
Kilkee  passed  his  arm  within  mine,  and 
led  me  along  the  corridor,  pouring  out,  the 
entire  time,  a  whole  rhapsody  about  the 
practical  joke  of  my  late  illness,  which  he 
was  pleased  to  say  would  ring  from  one 
end  of  Europe  to  the  other. 

Lord  Callonby  was  alone  in  the  break- 
fast-room when  we  entered,  and  the  mo- 
ment he  perceived  me,  called  out, — 

"Eh,  Lorrequer,  you  here  still  ?  Why, 
man,  I  thought  you'd  have  been  over  the 
frontier  early  this  morning." 

"Indeed!  my  lord.  I  am  not  exactly 
aware  of  any  urgent  reason  for  so  rapid  a 
flight." 

"  You  are  not  ? — the  devil  you  arc  not  ! 
Why,  you  must  surely  have  known  his 
Majesty  to  be  the  best-tempered  man  in 
his  dominions,  then,  or  you  would  never 
have  played  off  such  a  ruse ;  though,  I 
must  say,  there  never  was  anything  better 


can  intend  to  as- 
functions  by  day- 
ministerial     func- 


done.  Old  Helderstccn,  the  Minister  for 
Foreign  Affairs,  is  nearly  deranged  this 
morning  about  it.  It  seems  that  he  was 
the  liisi  that  fell  into  the  trap.  But, seri- 
ously speaking,  1  think  it  would  be  better 
if  yon  got  away  from  this.  The  King,  it 
is  hue,  has  behaved  with  the  best  possible 
good  feeling  ;  but " 

"  My  lord,  I  have  a  favor  to  ask,  per- 
haps— indeed,  in  all  likelihood,  the  last  I 
shall  ever  ask  of  your  lordship — it  is  this  : 
what  are  you  alluding  to  all  this  while  ? 
and  for  what  especial  reason  do  you  sug- 
gest my  immediate  departure  from  Mu- 
nich ?  " 

"  Bless  my  heart  and  soul!  you  surely 
cannot  mean  to  carry  the   thing  on  any 
further  ?     You    never 
sumo    your  ministerial 
light  ?"" 

"  My    what !  —  my 
tions  ! " 

"  Oh  no,  that  were  too  much,  even 
though  his  Majesty  did  say  that  you  were 
the  most  agreeable  diplomatist  he  had  met 
for  a  long  time." 

"  I,  a  diplomatist !" 

"  You  ! — certainly.  Surely,  you  cannot 
be  acting  now  !  Why,  gracious  mercy, 
Lorrequer  !  can  it  be  possible  that  you 
were  not  doing  it  by  design  ?  Do  you 
really  not  know  in  what  character  you  ap- 
peared last  night  ?  " 

"If  in  any  other  than  that  of  Harry 
Lorrequer,  my  lord,  I  pledge  my  honor  I 
am  ignorant." 

"Nor  the  uniform  you  wore — don't  you 
know  what  it  meant  ?  " 

"  The  tailor  sent  it  to  my  room." 

"Why,  by  Jove!  this  will  kill  me!" 
said  Lord  Callonby,  bursting  into  a  fit  of 
laughter,  in  which  Kilkee,  a  hitherto 
silent  spectator  of  our  colloquy,  joined  to 
such  an  extent,  that  I  thought  he  might 
burst  a  bloodvessel.  "Why,  man,  you 
went  as  the  Charge  d' Affaires." 

"I,  the  Charge  d' Aff aires  ! " 

"  That  you  did,  and  a  most  successful 
debut  you  made  of  it." 

While  shame  and  confusion  covered  me 
from  head  to  foot  at  the  absurd  and  ludi- 
crous blunder  I  had  been  guilty  of,  the 
sense  of  the  ridiculous  was  so  strong  in 
me,  that  I  fell  upon  a  sofa,  and  laughed 
on  with  the  others  for  full  ten  minutes. 

"Your  Excellency  is,  I  am  rejoiced  to 
find,  in  good  spirits,"  said  Lady  Callonby, 
entering,  and  presenting  her  hand. 

"He  is  so  glad  to  have  arranged  the 
Greek  Loan,"  said  Lady  Catherine,  smil- 
ing, with  a  half-malicious  twinkle  of  the 
eye. 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


221 


Just  at  tli is  instant,  another  door 
opened,  and  Lady  Jane  appeared.  Lucki- 
ly for  me,  the  increased  mirth  oftheparty, 
as  Lord  Callonby  informed  them  of  my 
blunder,  prevented  their  paying  anyatten- 
fcion  to  me  ;  for,  as  I  half-sprung  forward 
toward  her,  my  agitation  would  have  re- 
vealed to  any  observer  the  whole  state  of 
my  feelings.  I  took  her  hand,  which  she 
extended  to  nie,  withoqt  speaking,  and 
bowing  deeply  over  it,  raised  my  head  and 
looked  into  her  eyes,  as  if  to  read,  at  one 
glance,  my  fate,  and  when  I  let  fall  her 
hand,  I  would  not  have  exchanged  my 
fortune  for  a  kingdom. 

"  You  have  heard,  Jane,  how  our  friend 
opened  his  campaign  in  Munich  last 
night  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  hope,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  they  are 
only  quizzing.     You  surely  could  not " 

"  Could  not.  What  he  could  not — what 
lie  would  not  do,  is  beyond  my  calculation 
to  make  out,"  said  Kilkee,  laughing  : 
"anything  in  life;  from  breaking  an  axle- 
tree  to  hoaxing  a  king."  I  turned,  as  may 
be  imagined,  a  deaf  ear  to  this  allusion, 
which  really  frightened  me,  not  knowing 
how  far  Kilkee's  information  might  lead, 
nor  how  he  might  feel  disposed  to  use  it. 
Lady  Jane  turned  a  half  -  reproachful 
glance  at  me'  as  if  rebuking  my  folly  ;  but 
the  interest  she  thus  took  in  me  I  would 
not  have  bartered  for  the  smile  of  the 
proudest  queen  in  Christendom. 

Breakfast  over,  Lord  Callonby  under- 
took to  explain  to  the  Court  the  blunder 
by  which  I  had  unwittingly  been  betrayed 
into  personating  the  newly-arrived  minis- 
ter, and  as  the  mistake  was  more  of  their 
causing  than  my  own,  my  excuses  were 
accepted,  and  when  his  lordship  returned 
to  the  hotel,  he  brought  with  him  an  invi- 
tation for  me  to  dine  at  Court  in  my  own 
unaccredited  character.  By  this  time  I 
had  been  carrying  on  the  siege  as  briskly 
as  circumstances  permitted  ;  Lady  Callon- 
by being  deeply  interested  in  her  newly- 
arrived  purchases,  and  Lady  Catherine 
being  good-natured  enough  to  pretend  to 
be  so  also,  left  me,  at  intervals,  many  op- 
portunities of  speaking  to  Lady  Jane. 

As  I  feared  that  such  occasions  would 
not  often  present  themselves,  I  deter- 
mined on  making  the  best  use  of  my  time, 
and  at  once  led  the  conversation  toward 
the  goal  I  aimed  at,  by  asking,  "if  Lady 
Jane  had  completely  forgotten  the  wild 
cliffs  and  rocky  coast  of  Clare,  amid  the 
tall  mountains  and  glaciered  peaks  of  the 
Tyrol  ?  " 

"Far  from  it,"  she  replied.  "  I  have  a 
most   clear   remembrance   of   bold  Moher 


and  the  rolling  swell  of  the  blue  Atlantic, 
and  long  to  feci  its  8praj  once  more  upon 
my  cheek  ;  but  then.  1  knew  it  in  child- 
hood— your  acquaintance  with  it  was  of  a 
later  date,  and  connected  with  fewer  happy 
associai  ions." 

"Fewer    happy    associations — how   can 
yon  say  bo  ?     \\  as  it  noi  t  here  t  he  brigh 
hours   of  iii\  whole  life  were  passed — was 
it  not  t  here  I  first  met " 

"  Kilkee  tells  me,"  said  Lady  Jane,  in- 
terrupting me  shortly,  "that  Misa  Ling- 
ham  is  extremely  prel  ty." 

This  was  turning  mj  flank  with  a  ven- 
geance; so  1  muttered  something  about 
difference  of  tastes,  etc.,  and  continued, 
"I  understand  my  worthy  cousin  C'i\y  had 
the  good  fortune  to  make  your  acquaint- 
ance in  Paris." 

It  was  now  her  turn  to  blush,  which  she 
did  deeply,  and  said  nothing. 

"He  is  expected,  1  believe,  in  a  few  days 
at  Munich,'*'  said  1.  fixing  my  eyes  upon 
her,  and  endeavoring  to  read  her  thoughts  ; 
she  blushed  more  deeply,  and  the  blood  at 
my  own  heart  ran  cold,  as  I  thought  over 
all  I  had  heard,  and  I  muttered  to  myself, 
"She  loves  him." 

"Mr.  Lorrequer,  the  carriage  is  waiting, 
and  as  we  are  going  to  the  Gallery  this 
morning,  and  have  much  to  see,  pray  let 
us  have  your  escort." 

"Oh,  I'm  sure,"  said  Catherine,  "his 
assistance  will  be  considerable — particular- 
ly if  his  knowledge  of  art  only  equals  his 
tact  in  botany.  Don't  you  think  so, 
Jane  ?"     But  Jane  was  gone. 

They  left  the  room  to  dress,  and  I  was 
alone — alone  with  my  anxious,  now  half- 
despairing  thoughts,  crowding  and  rushing 
upon  my  beating  brain.  "She  loves  him, 
and  I  have  only  come  to  witness  her  be- 
coming the  wife  of  another.  I  see  it  all. 
too  plainly  :  my  uncle's  arrival — Lord  Cal- 
lonby's  familiar  manner — Jane's  own  con- 
fession. All — all  convince  me  that  my 
fate  is  decided.  Now,  then,  for  one  last 
brief  explanation,  and  I  leave  Munich, 
never  to  see  her  more."  Jus!  as  I  had  so 
spoken,  she  entered.  Her  gloves  had  been 
forgotten  in  the  room,  and  she  came  in, 
not  knowing  that  I  was  there.  What 
would  I  not  have  given  at  thai  moment  for 
the  ready-witted  assurance,  the  easy  self- 
possession  with  which  1  should  have  made 
my  advances  had  my  heart  not  been  as 
deeply  engaged,  as  I  now  felt  it.  Alas  ! 
my  courage  was  gone  :  there  was  too  much 
at  stake,  and  I  preferred,  now  that  the 
time  was  come,  any  suspense,  any  vacilla- 
tion, to  the  dreadful  certainty  of  refusal. 

These  were  my  first  thoughts,  as  she  en- 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


tered ;  how  they  were  followed,  I  cannot 
say.  The  same  wild  confusion  of  my 
brain,  which  I  once  felt  when  mounting 
the  breach  in  a  storm-party,  now  com- 
pletely heset  me  ;  and  as  then,  when  death 
and  destruction  raged  on  every  side,  I  held 
on  my  way  regardless  of  every  obstacle, 
and  forgetting  all  save  the  goal  before  me  ; 
so  did  I  now,  in  the  intensity  of  my  excite- 
ment, disregard  everything,  save  the  story 
of  my  love,  which  I  poured  forth  with  that 
fervor  which  truth  only  can  give.  But  she 
spoke  not ;  her  averted  head,  her  cold  and 
tremulous  hand,  and  half-drawn  sigh,  were 
all  that  replied  to  me,  as  I  waited  for  'that 
one  word  upon  which  hung  all  my  fortune. 
At  length  her  hand,  which  I  scarcely  held 
within  my  own,  was  gently  withdrawn. 
She  lifted  it  to  her  e}Tes,  but  still  was  si- 
lent. 

"  Enough,"  said  I  ;  "I  seek  not  to  pain 
you  more.  The  daring  ambition  that 
prompted  me  to  love  you  has  met  its  heavi- 
est retribution.  Farewell.  You,  Lady 
Jane,  have  nothing  to  reproach  yourself 
with — you  never  encouraged,  you  never 
deceived  me.  I,  and  I  alone,  have  been  to 
blame,  and  mine  must  be  the  suffering. 
Adieu,  then,  once  more,  and  for  ever." 

She  turned  slowly  round,  and,  as  the 
handkerchief  fell  from  her  hand — her  feat- 
ures were  pale  as  marble — I  saw  that  she 
was  endeavoring  to  speak,  but  could  not  ; 
and,  at  length,  as  the  color  came  slowly 
back  to  her  cheek,  her  lips  moved,  and 
just  as  I  leaned  forward,  with  beating 
heart,  to  hear,  her  sister  came  running 
forward,  and  suddenly  checked  herself  in 
her  career,  as  she  said,  laughingly, — 

"  Mille  pardons,  Jane,  but  his  Excellen- 
cy must  take  another  occasion  to  explain 
the  quadruple  alliance,  for  mamma  has 
been  waiting  in  the  carriage  these  ten  min- 
utes." 

I  followed  them  to  the  door,  placed  them 
in  the  carnage,  and  was  turning  again  to- 
ward the  house,  when  Lady  Callonby  said, 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Lorrequer,  we  count  upon 
you  ;  you  must  not  desert  us." 

I  muttered  something  about  not  feeling 
well. 

"  And  then,  perhaps,  the  Greek  Loan  is 
engaging  your  attention,"  said  Catherine  ; 
"  or,  mayhap,  some  reciprocity  treaty  is 
not  prospering  ?  " 

The  malice  of  this  last  sally  told,  for 
Jane  blushed  deeply,  and  I  felt  overwhelm- 
ed with  confusion. 

"But  pray  come  ;  the  drive  will  do  you 
good." 

"Your  ladyship  will,  I  am  certain,  ex- 
cuse  " 


Just  as  1  bad  got  so  far,  1  caught  Lady 
.lane's  eye  for  the  first  time  since  we  had 
lelt  the  drawing-room.  What  I  read  there, 
I  could  not,  for  the  life  of  me,  say;  but, 
instead  of  finishing  my  sentence,  [got  in- 
to the  carriage,  and  drove  off,  very  much 
to  the  surprise  of  Lady  Callonby,  who, 
never  having  studied  magnel  ism,  knew  very 
little  the  cause  of  my  sudden  recovery. 

The  thrill  of  hope  that  shot  through 
in y  heart  succeeding  so  rapidly  the  dark 
gloom  of  my  despairing  thoughts,  buoyed 
me  up  ;  and  while  I  whispered  to  myself, 
"  All  may  not  yet  be  lost,"  I  summoned 
my  best  energies  to  my  aid.  Luckily  for 
me,  I  was  better  qualified  to  act  as  cicerone 
in  a  gallery  than  as  a  guide  in  a  green- 
house ;  and  with  the  confidence  that 
knowledge  of  a  subject  ever  inspires,  I  rat- 
tled away  about  art  and  artists,  greatly  to 
the  edification  of  Lady  Callonby — much  to 
the  surprise  of  Lady  Catherine — and,  bet- 
ter than  all,  evidently  to  the  satisfaction 
of  her,  to  win  whose  praise  I  would  gladly 
have  risked  my  life. 

"  There,"  said  I,  as  I  placed  my  fair 
friend  before  a  delicious  little  Madonna  of 
Carlo  Dolce, — "there  is,  perhaps,  the  tri- 
umph of  coloring  ;  from  the  downy  soft- 
ness of  that  cheek,  the  luscious  depth  of 
that  blue  eye,  the  waving  richness  of  those 
sunny  locks,  all  is  perfect ;  fortunately  so 
beautiful  a  head  is  not  a  monopoly,  for  he 
painted  many  copies  of  this  picture." 

"  Quite  true,"  said  a  voice  behind  ;  "  and 
mine  at  Elton  is,  I  think,  if  anything, 
better  than  this." 

I  turned,  and  beheld  my  good  old  uncle, 
Sir  Guy,  who  was  standing  beside  Lady 
Callonby.  While  I  welcomed  my  worthy 
relative,  I  could  not  help  casting  a  glance 
around  to  see  if  Guy  were  also  there,  and 
not  perceiving  him,  my  heart  beat  freely 
again. 

My  uncle,  it  appeared,  had  just  arrived, 
and  lost  no  time  in  joining  us  at  the  gal- 
lery. His  manner  to  me  was  cordial  to  a 
degree  ;  and  I  perceived  that,  immediately 
upon  being  introduced  to  Lady  Jane,  he 
took  considerable  pains  to  observe  her,  and 
paid  her  the  most  marked  attention. 

The  first  moment  I  could  steal  unnotic- 
ed, I  took  the  opportunity  of  asking  if  Guy 
were  come.  That  one  fact  was  to  me  all, 
and  upon  the  answer  to  my  question  I 
hung  with  deep  anxiety. 

"  Guy  here  ! — no,  not  yet.  The  fact  is, 
Harry,  my  boy,  Guy  has  not  got  on  here 
as  well  as  I  could  have  wished.  Every- 
thing had  been  arranged  among  us  ;  Cal- 
lonby behaved  most  handsomely  ;  and,  as 
far  as  regarded  myself,  I  threw  no  impedi- 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


223 


merit  in  the  way.  But  still,  I  don't  know 
how  it  was,  but  Guy  did  not  advance,  and 
the  matter  now " 

"  Pray,  how  does  it  stand  ?  Have  you 
any  hopes  to  put  all  to  rights  again  ?" 

"Yes,  Harry,  I  think,  with  your  assist- 
ance, much  may  be  done." 

"Oh,  count  upon  me,  by  all  means/' said 
I,  with  a  sneering  bitterness  that  my  uncle 
could  riot  have  escaped  remarking,  had  his 
attention  not  been  drawn  oil  by  Lady  Cal- 
lonby. 

"What  have  I  done — what  sin  did  I 
meditate  before  I  was  born,  that  I  should 
come  into  the  world  branded  with  failure 
in  all  1  attempt  ?  Is  it  not  enough  that 
my  cousin,  my  elder  by  some  months, 
should  be  rich  while  I  am  poor ;  honored 
and  titled,  while  I  am  unknown  and  un- 
noticed ;  but  is  he  also  to  be  preferred  to 
me  in  every  station  in  life  ?  Is  there  no 
feeling  of  the  heart  so  sacred  that  it  must 
not  succumb  to  primogeniture  ?" 

"What  a  dear  old  man*  Sir  Guy  is!" 
said  Catherine,  interrupting  my  sad  reflec- 
tions, "and  how  gallant !  he  is  absolutely 
flirting  with  Lady  Jane." 

And  quite  true  it  was.  The  old  gentle- 
man was  paying  his  devoirs  with  a  studied 
anxiety  to  please,  that  went  to  my  very 
heart  as  I  witnessed  it.  The  remainder  of 
that  day  to  me  was  a  painful  and  suffering 
one.  My  intention  of  suddenly  leaving 
Munich  had  been  abandoned  ;  why,  I  knew 
not.  I  felt  that  I  was  hoping  against  hope, 
and  that  my  stay  was  only  to  confirm,  by 
the  most  "  damning  proof,"  how  surely  I 
Avas  fated  to  disappointment.  My  reason- 
ings all  ended  m  one  point.  "  If  she  really 
love  Guy,  then  my  present  attentions  can 
only  be  a  source  of  unhappiness  to  her  ;  if 
she  do  not,  is  there  any  prospect  that, 
from  the  bare  fact  of  my  attachment,  so 
proud  a  family  as  the  Callonbys  will  suffer 
their  daughter  to  make  a  mere  love- 
match  ?  " 

There  was  but  one  answer  to  this  ques- 
tion, and  I  had  at  last  the  courage  to  make 
it":  and  yet  the  Callonbys  had  marked  me 
out  for  their  attentions,  and  had  gone  un- 
usually out  of  their  way  to  inflict  injury 
upon  me,  if  all  were  meant  to  end  in  noth- 
ing. "If  1  only  could  bring  myself  to 
think  that  this  was  a  systematic  game 
adopted  by  them,  to  lead  to  the  subsequent 
arrangement  with  my  cousin  ! — if  I  could 

but  satisfy  my  doubts  on  this  head " 

What  threats  of  vengeance  I  muttered,  I 
cannot  remember,  for  1  was  summoned  at 
that  critical  moment  to  attend  the  party 
to  the  palace. 

The  state  of  excitement  I  was  in  was  an 


ill  preparative  for  the  rigid  etiquette  of  a 
Court  dinner.  All  passed  oil',  however, 
happily  ;  and  the  King,  by  a  -i  good- 
natured  allusion  to  the  blunder  of  the 
night   before,  set  me  perfect  lj   al   ease  on 

that   head. 

I  was  placed  next  to  Lady  Jane  at  din- 
ner; and  half  from  wounded  pride,  half 
from  the   momentarily  increasing  con 

tion  that    all  was    lost,  chatted  aua\  gayly, 
without  any  evidence  of  a  stronger  feeling 
than  the  mere  vicinity  of  a  pretty  person 
sure  to  inspire.     What  success  tin-  game 

was  attended  with,  1  know  not  ;  hut  the 
suffering  it  cost  me,  I  shall  never  cease  to 
remember.  One  satisfaction  I  certainly  did 
experience — she  was  manifestly  piqued, 
and  several  times  turned  toward  the  person 
on  the  other  side  of  her,  to  avoid  the  tone 
of  indifference  in  which  1  discussed  mat- 
ters that  were  actually  wringing  my  own 
heart  at  the  moment/  Yet  such  was  the 
bitterness  of  my  spirit,  that  I  set  down 
this  conduct  on  her  part  as  coquetry  :  and 
quite  convinced  myself  that  any  slight  en- 
couragement she  might  ever  have  given 
my  attentions  was  only  meant  to  indu 
a  spirit  of  vanity,  by  adding  another  to  tin- 
list  of  her  conquests. 

As  the  feeling  grew  upon  me,  I  suppose 
my  manner  to  her  became  more  palpably 
cutting,  for  it  ended  at  last  in  our  discon- 
tinuing to  speak  ;  and  when  we  retired 
from  the  palace,  I  accompanied  her  to  the 
carriage  in  silence,  and  wished  her  a  cold 
and  distant  good-night,  without  any  ad- 
vance to  touch  her  hand  at  parting— and 
yet  that  parting  I  had  destined  for  our 
last. 

The  greater  part  of  that  night  I  spent  in 
writing  letters.  One  was  to  Jane  herself, 
owning  my  affections,  confessing  that  even 
the  rudeness  of  my  late  conduct  was  the 
fruit  of  it,  and  finally  assuring  her  that 
failing  to  win  from  her  any  return  of  my 
passion,  I  had  resolved  never  to  meet  her 
more.  I  also  wrote  a  short  note  to  my 
uncle,  thanking  him  for  all  he  had  former 
ly  done  in  my  behalf,  but  coldly  declining 
for  the  future  any  assistance  upon  his  part, 
resolving  that  upon  my  own  efforts  alone 
should  I  now  rest  my  fortunes.  To  Lord 
Callonby  I  wrote  at  greater  length,  reca- 
pitulating the  history  of  our  early  inti- 
macy, and  accusing  him  of  encouraging 
me  in  expectations,  which,  as  he  never  in- 
tended to  confirm  them,  were  fated  to 
prove  my  ruin.  More — much  more— 1 
said,  which  to  avow,  I  should  gladly  shrink 
from,  were  it  not  that  I  have  pledged  my- 
self to  honesty  in  these  "Confessions/' 
and  as  they  depict  the  bitterness  and  mis- 


J24 


CHARLES   LEVER'S   WORKS. 


cry  of  my  spirit,  I  must  plead  guilh  to 
them  here.  In  a  word,  I  felt  mysell  in- 
jured. I  saw  no  outlet  for  redress,  and 
the  only  consolation  open  to  my  wounded 
pride  and  crushed  affection,  was  to  show, 
that  if  1  felt  myself  a  victim,  at  leas!  1  was 
not  a  dupe.  1  set  aboul  packing  up  for 
the  jonmey — whither,  1  knew  not.  My 
leave  was  nearly  expired,  yet  I  could  nol 
bear  the  thought  of  rejoining  the  regi- 
ment. My  only  desire  was  to  leave  .Mu- 
nich, and  that  speedily.  When  all  my  ar- 
rangements were  completed,  I  went  down 
noiselessly  to  the  inn  yard  to  order  post- 
horses  by  daybreak  ;  there  to  my  surprise 
I  found  all  activity  and  bustle.  Though 
so  late  at  night,  a  courier  had  arrived  from 
England  for  Lord  Oallonby,  with  some  im- 
portant dispatches  from  the  Government. 
This  would,  at  any  other  time,  have  inter- 
ested mc  deeply ;  now  I  heard  the  news 
without  a  particle  of  feeling,  and  I  made  all 
the  necessary  dispositions  for  my  jonrney, 
without  paying  the  slightest  attention  to 
what  was  going  on  about  me.  I  had  just 
finished,  when  Lord  Callonby's  valet  came 
to  say  that  his  lordship  wished  to  sec 
me  immediately  in  his  dressing-room. 
Though  I  would  gladly  have  declined  any 
further  interview,  1  saw  no  means  of  es- 
cape, and  followed  the  servant  to  his  lord- 
ship's room. 

There  I  found  Lord  Oallonby  in  his 
dressing-gown  and  night-cap,  surrounded 
by  papers,  letters,  dispatch  boxes,  and  red 
tape-tied  parcels,  that  all  bespoke  business. 

"  Lorrequer,  sit  down,  my  boy;  I  have 
much  to  say  to  you,  and  as  we  have  no 
time  to  lose,  you  must  forego  a  little  sleep. 
Is  the  door  closed  ?  I  have  just  received 
most  important  news  from  England  ;  and 
to  begin."  Here  his  lordship  opened  a 
letter  and  read  as  follows  : — 

"  My  dear  Lord, — They  are  out  at  last 
— the^  majority  on  Friday  increased  to 
forty  yesterday  evening,  when  they  re- 
signed ;  the  Duke  has  meanwhile  assumed 
the  reins  till  further  arrangements  can  be 
perfected,  and  dispatches  are  now  prepar- 
ing to  bring  all  our  friends  about  us.     The 

only   rumors   as   yet   are,  L ,  for   the 

Colonies,   H ,  to  the   Foreign   Office, 

W ,  President  of  the  Council,  and  we 

anxiously  hope,  yourself,  Viceroy  in  Ire- 
land. In  any  case  lose  no  time  in  coming 
back  to  England.  The  struggle  will  be  a 
sharp  one,  as  the  outs  are  distracted,  and 
we  shall  want  you  much.  Ever  yours,  my 
dear  lord,  Henry ." 

"  This  is  much  sooner  than  I  looked  for, 


Lorrequer,  perhaps  almost  than  I  wished  ; 
lint  as  it  has  taken  place,  we  must  nol  <lr- 
cline  the  battle  ;  now  what  I  wanted  with 
you  is  this — if  I  go  to  Ireland.  I  should 
like  your  acceptance  of  the  Private  Sec- 
retary's Office.  Come,  conic,  no  objec- 
tions; you  know  that  you  need  not  have 
the  army;  you  can  become  unattached; 
I'll  arrange  all  that;  a  propos,  this  con- 
cerns you  ;  it  is  from  the  Horse  Guards; 
you  need  not  read  it  now  though  ;  it  is 
merely  your  gazette  to  the  company  ;  your 
promotion,  however,  shall  not  stop  there. 
However,  the  important  thing  I  want  with 
you  is  this  :  I  wish  you  to  start  for  Eng- 
land to-morrow  ;  circumstanci  -  prevent 
my  going  from  this  for  a  few  days.  You 
can  see  L and  "W ,  etc.,  and  ex- 
plain all  I  have  to  say  ;  I  shall  write  a  few 
letters,  and  some  hints  for  your  own  guid- 
ance ;  and  as  Kilkee  never  would  have 
head  for  these  matters,  I  look  to  your 
friendship  to  do  it  for  me." 

Looking  only  to  the  past,  as  the  pro- 
posal suited  my  already-made  resolve  to 
quit  Munich,  I  acceded  at  once,  and  assured 
Lord  Callonby  that  I  should  be  ready  in 
an  hour. 

"  Quite  right,  Lorrequer,  but  still  I  shall 
not  need  this  ;  you  cannot  leave  before 
eleven  or  twelve  o'clock  ;  in  fact,  I  have 
another  service  to  exact  at  your  hands  be- 
fore we  part  with  you  ;  meanwhile,  try 
and  get  some  sleep  ;  you  are  not  likely  to 
know  anything  of  a  bed  before  you  reach 
the  Clarendon."  So  saying,  he  hurried 
me  from  the  room,  and  as  he  closed  the 
door,  I  heard  him  muttering  his  satisfac- 
tion, that  already  so  far,  all  had  been  well 
arranged. 


CHAPTER  LVI. 


CONCLUSION. 


Sleep  came  on  me,  without  my  feeling 
it,  and  amid  all  the  distracting  cares  and 
pressing  thoughts  that  embarrassed  me,  I 
only  awoke  when  the  roll  of  the  caleche 
sounded  beneath  my  window,  and  warned 
me  that  I  must  be  stirring  and  ready  for 
the  road. 

"Since  it  is  to  be  thus,"  thought  I,  "it 
is  much  better  that  this  opportunity  should 
occur  of  my  getting  away  at  once,  and 
thus  obviate  the  unpleasantness  of  any 
future  meeting  with  Lad}'  Jane,  and  the 
thousand  conjectures  that  my  departure, 
so  sudden  and  unannounced,  might  give 
rise  to.  So  be  it,  and  I  hnvo  now  only  one 
hope  more — that  the  terms  we  last  paired 


FAIRLY   CAUGHT 


,    GUY,"    SAID   LORD   GALLON  BY  ;     "A   BOLD   STROKE,    IF    IT   ONLY   SGrcEKI, 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


225 


on  may  prevent  her  appearing  at  the 
breakfast-table."  With  these  words  I  en- 
tered the  room,  where  the  Callonbys  were 
assembled. 

"This  is  too  provoking,  really,  Mr. 
Lorrequer,"  said  Lady  Callonby,  with  her 
sweetest  smile,  and  most  civil  manner ; 
"quite  too  bad  to  lose  you  now  that  you 
have  just  joined  us." 

"  Come",  no  tampering  with  our  party," 
said  Lord  Callonby ;  "  my  friend  here 
must  not  be  seduced  by  honeyed  words  and 
soft  speeches  from  the  high  road  that 
leads  to  honors  and  distinctions.  Now  for 
your  instructions."  Here  his  lordship 
entered  into  a  very  deep  discussion  as  to 
the  conditions  upon  which  his  support 
might  he  expected  and  relied  upon,  which 
Kilkee  from  time  to  time  interrupted  by 
certain  quizzing  allusions  to  the  low  price 
he  put.  upon  his  services,  and  suggested 
that  a  mission  for  myself  should  certainly 
enter  into  the  compact. 

At  length  breakfast  was  over,  and  Lord 
Callonby  said,  "Now  make  your  adieux, 
and  let  me  see  you  for  a  moment  in  Sir 
Guy's  room  ;  we  have  a  little  discussion 
there,  in  which  your  assistance  is  want- 
ing." I  accordingly  took  my  farewell  of 
Lady  Callonby,  and  approached  to  do  so 
to  Lady  Jane  ;  but  much  to  my  surprise, 
she  made  me  a  very  distant  salute,  and 
said  in  her  coldest  tone,  "  I  hope  you  may 
have  a  pleasant  journey."  Before  I  had 
recovered  my  surprise  at  this  movement, 
Kilkee  came  forward  and  offered  to  ac- 
company me  a  few  miles  of  the  road.  I 
accepted  readily  the  kind  offer,  and  once 
more  bowing  to  the  ladies,  withdrew. 
"  And  thus  it  is,"  thought  I,  "  that  I  leave 
all  my  long-dreamed-of  happiness,  and 
such  is  the  end  of  many  a  long  day's 
ardent  expectation."  When  I  entered  my 
uncle's  room,  my  temper  was  certainly  not 
in  the  mood  most  fit  for  further  trials, 
though  it  was  doomed  to  meet  them. 

"  Harry,  my  boy,  we  are  in  a  great  want 
of  you  here,  and,  as  time  presses,  we  must 
state  our  case  very  briefly.  You  are 
aware,  Sir  Guy  tells  me,  that  your  cousin 
Guy  has  been  received  among  us  as  the 
suitor  of  my  eldest  daughter,  "it,  has  been 
an  old  compact  between  us  to  unite  our 
families  by  ties  still  stronger  than  our  very 
ancient  friendship,  and  this  match  has 
been  accordingly  looked  to  by  us  both  with 
much  anxiety.  Now,  although  on  our 
parts  I  think  no  obstacle  intervenes,  yet  I 
am  sorry  to  say  there  appear  difficulties  in 
other  quarters.  In  fact,  certain  stories 
have  reached  Lady  Jane's  ears  concerning 
your  cousin,  which  have  greatly  prejudiced 
vol.  i. — 15 


her  against  him,  and  we  have  reason  to 
think  most,  unfairly  :  for  we  have  succeed- 
ed in  tracing  some  of  the  offenses  in  ques- 
tion, not  to  Guy,  bul  to  a  .Mi-.  Morewood, 
who  it  seems  has  personated  your  cousin 
upon  more  than  one  occasion,  and  not  a 
little  to  his  disadvantage.  Now  we  wish 
you  to  sift  these  matters  to  the  bottom,  by' 
your  going  to  Paris  as  soon  as  you  can 
venture  to  leave  London — find  out  this 
man,  and,  if  possible,  make  all  straight  ; 
if  money  is  wanting,  he  must  of  con 
have  it  :  but  hear  one  thing  in  mind,  that 
any  possible  step  which  may  remove  this 
unhappy  impression  from  my  daughter's 
mind,  will  be  of  infinite  service,  and  n 
forgotten  by  us.  Kilkee,  too,  has  taken 
some  dislike  to  Guy.  You  have  only, 
however,  to  talk  to  him  on  the  mat- 
ter, and  he  is  sure  to  pay  attention  to 
you." 

•'And,  Harry,"  said  my  uncle,  "tell 
Guy  I  am  much  displeased  that  he  is  not 
here  ;  I  expected  him  to  leave  Paris  with 
me,  but  some  absurd  wager  at  the  Jockey 
Club  detained  him." 

"  Another  thing,  Harry,  you  may  as 
well  mention  to  your  cousin,  that  Sir  Guy 
has  complied  with  every  suggestion  that 
he  formerly  threw  out — he  will  understand 
the  allusion." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  my  uncle;  "tell  him 
roundly,  he  shall  have  Elton  Hall  ;  I  have 
fitted  up  Marsden  for  myself  ;  so  no  diffi- 
culty lies  in  that  quarter." 

"  You  may  add.  if  you  like,  that  my 
present  position  with  the  Government  en- 
ables me  to  offer  him  a  speedy  prospect  of 
a  regiment,  and  that  I  think  he  had  better 
not  leave  the  army." 

"And  say  that  by  next  post  Hammer- 
cloth's  bond  for  the  six  thousand  shall  he 
paid  oif,  and  let  him  send  me  a  note  of  any 
other  large  sum  he  owes." 

"  And  above  all  things,  no  more  delays. 
I  must  leave  this  for  England  inevitably,and 
as  the  ladies  will  probably  prefer  wintering 
in  Italy " 

'■Oh,  certainly,"  said^my  uncle,."  the 
wedding  must  take  place  at  once." 

"I  scarcely  can  ask  you  to  come  to  us  on 
the  occasion,  though  I  need  not  say  how 
greatly  we  should  all  feel  gratified  if  you 
could  do  so,"  said  my  lord. 

While  this  cross  lire  went  on  from  both 
sides,  I  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  the 
speakers.  My  first  impression  being,  that 
having  perceived  and  disliked  my  attention 
to  Lady  Jane,  they  adopted'  this  mauvaise 
plaisanterie  as  a  kind  of  smart  lesson  for 
my  future  guidance.  My  next  impression 
was  that  they  were  really  in  earnest,  but 


226 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


about  the  very  stupidest  pair  of  old  gentle- 
men that  eve,'  -'.vmc  hair  powder. 

••  \i:d  this  is  all  ?  "  said  I,  drawing  a 
long  breath,  and  inwardly  uttering  a  shori 
prayer  for  pal  ience. 

"  Why,  I  believe  I  have  mentioned  every- 
thing," said  Lord  Oallonby,  "except  that 
if  anything  occurs  to  yourself  that  offers  a 
prospect  of  forwarding  this  affair,  we  leave 
you  a  carte  blanche  to  adopt  it." 

"  Of  course,  then,"  said  I,  "I  am  to  un- 
derstand that  as  no  other  difficulties  lie  in 
the  way  than  those  your  lordship  has  men- 
tioned, the  feelings  of  the  parties— their 
affections  are  mutual  ?" 

"  Oh,  of  course  ;  your  cousin,  I  suppose, 
has  made  himself  agreeable  ;  he  is  a  good- 
looking  fellow,  and,  in  fact,  I  am  not  aware 
whv  they  should  not  like  each  other,  eh, 
Sir"' Guy*?" 

"  To  be  sure  ;  and  the  Elton  estates  run 
half  the  shire  with  your  Gloucestershire 
property  ;  never  was  there  a  more  suitable 
match." 

"  Then  only  one  point  remains,  and  that 
being  complied  with,  you  may  reckon  upon 
my  services ;  nay,  more,  I  promise  you 
success.  Lady  Jane's  own  consent  must 
be  previously  assured  to  me  ;  without  this. 
1  most  positively  decline  moving  a  step  in 
the  matter  ;  that  once  obtained,  freely  and 
without  constraint,  I  pledge  myself  to  do 
all  you  require." 

"  Quito  fair,  Harry,  I  perfectly  approve 
of  your  scruples."  So  saying,  his  lordship 
rose,  and  left  the  room. 

"  Well,  Harry,  and  yourself,  what  is  to 
be  done  for  you  ? — has  Oallonby  offered 
you  anything  yet  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,  his  lordship  has  most  kindly 
offered  me  the  under  secretaryship  in 
Ireland,  but  I  have  resolved  on  declining  it, 
though  I  shall  not  at  present  say  so,  lest  he 
should  feel  any  delicacy  in  employing  me 
upon  the  present  occasion." 

"Why,  is  the  boy  deranged? — decline 
it ! — what  have  you  got  in  the  world,  that 
you  should  refuse  such  an  appointment  ?" 

The  color  mounted  to  my  cheeks,  my 
temples  burned,  and  what  I  should  have 
replied  to  this  taunt,  I  know  not,  for  pas- 
sion had  completely  mastered  me.  When 
Lord  Oallonby  again  entered  the  room,  his 
usually  calm  and  pale  face  was  agitated 
and  flushed,  and  his  manner  tremulous 
and  hurried  ;  for  an  instant  he  was  silent  ; 
then  turning  toward  my  uncle,  he  took 
his  hand  affectionately,  and  said, — 

"  My  good  old  friend,  I  am  deeply,  deep- 
ly grieved  ;  but  we  must  abandon  this 
scheme.  I  have  just  seen  my  daughter,  and 
from  the  few  words  which  we  have  had  to- 


gether, I  find  that  her  dislike  to  the  match 
IS  invincible,  and,  in  fact,  she  has  obtained 

in\  promise  never  again  to  allude  bo  it.  If 
1  were  willing  to  constrain  the  feelings  of 
my  child,  you  yourself   would  not  permit 

it.  So  here  let  us  forget  that  we  ever 
hoped  for,  evei'  calculated  on  a  plan  in 
which  both  our  hearts  were  so  deeply  inter- 
ested." 

These  words,  few  as  they  were,  were 
spoken  with  deep  feeling,  and  for  the  first 
time  I  looked  upon  the  speaker  with  sincere 
regard.  They  were  both  silent  for  some 
minutes  ;  Sir  Guy,  who  was  himself  much 
agitated,  spoke  first. 

';  So  be  it  then,  Oallonby,  and  thus  do  I 
relinquish  one — perhaps  the  only  cheering 
prospect  my  advanced  age  held  out  to  me. 
I  have  long  wished  to  have  your  daughter 
for  my  niece,  and  since  I  have  known  her, 
the  wish  has  increased  tenfold." 

"It  was  the  chosen  dream  of  all  my  an- 
ticipations." said  Lord  Oallonby,  "  and  now 
Jane's  affections  only but  let  it  pass." 

"And  is  there  then  really  no  remedy  ? 
— can  nothing  be  thought  of  ?  " 

"  Nothing." 

> "  I  am  not  quite  so  sure,  my  lord,"  said 
I,  tremulously. 

"No,  no,  Lorrequer. ;  you  are  a  ready- 
witted  fellow,  I  know,  but  this  passes  even 
your  ingenuity  ;  besides,  I  have  given  her 
my  word." 

"  Even  so." 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?  speak  out, 
man,"  said  Sir  Guy.  "  I'll  give  you  ten 
thousand  pounds  on  the  spot  if  you  suggest 
a  means  of  overcoming  this  difficulty." 

"  Perhaps  you  might  not  accede  after- 
ward/' 

"  I  pledge  myself  to  it." 

"  And  I  too,"  said  Lord  Oallonby,  "  if 
no  unfair  stratagem  be  resorted  to  toward 
my  daughter.  If  she  only  give  her  free 
and  willing  consent,  I  agree." 

"Then  you  must  bid  higher,  uncle  ;  ten 
thousand  won't  do,  for  the  bargain  is  well 
worth  the  money." 

"Name  your  price,  boy,  and  keep  your 
word." 

"  Agreed  then.  Holding  my  uncle  to 
his  promise,  I  pledge  myself. that  his  neph- 
ew shall  be  the  husband  of  Lady  Jane  Oal- 
lonby. And  now,  my  lord,  write  Harry 
vice  Guy  in  the  contract,  and  1  am  certain 
my  uncle  is  too  faithful  to  his  plighted 
word,  and  too  true  to  his  promise,  not  to 
say  it  shall  be." 

The  suddenness  of  this  rash  declaration 
absolutely  stunned  them  both,  and  then 
recovering  at  the  same  moment,  their  eyes 
met. 


HARRY  LORREQUER. 


227 


"Fairly  caught,  Guy."  said  Lord  Cal- 
lonby;  "a  bold  stroke,  if  it  only  succeed." 

"And  it  shall,  by  G ."said  my  un- 
cle; "Elton  is  yours,  Harry,  and  with 
seven  thousand  a  year,  and  my  nephew  to 
hoot,  Callonby  won't,  refuse  you." 

There  are  moments  in  life  in  which  con- 
viction will  follow  a  hold  coup  de  main 
that  never  would  have  ensued  from  the 
slow  process  of  reasoning.  Luckily  for 
me,  this  was  one  of  those  nappy  intervals. 
Lord  Callonby,  catching  my  uncle's  en- 
thusiasm, seized  me  by  the  hand,  and 
said, — 

"  With  her  consent,  Lorrequer,  you  may 
count  upon  mine  ;  and  faith,  if  truth 
must  bo  told,  I  always  preferred  you  to 
the  other." 

What  my  uncle  added,  I  waited  not  to 
listen  to,  but  with  one  bound  sprung  from 
the  room — dashed  upstairs  to  Lady  Cal- 
lonby's  drawing-room — looked  rapidly 
around  to  see  if  she  were  there,  and  then, 
without  paying  the  slightest  attention  to 
the  questions  of  Lady  Callonby  and  her 
youngest  daughter,  was  turning  to  leave 
the  room,  when  my  eye  caught  the  flutter 
of  a  cashmere  shawl  in  the  garden  beneath. 
In  an  instant  the  window  was  torn  open— 
I  stood  upon  the  sill,  and,  though  the  fall 
was  some  twenty  feet,  with  one  spring  I 
took  it,  and  before  the  ladies  had  recovered 
from  their  first  surprise  at  my  unaccount- 
able conduct,  put  the  finishing  stroke  to 
their  amazement,  by  throwing  my  arms 
around  Lady  Jane,  and  clasping  her  to 
my  heart. 

1  cannot  remember  by  what  process  I 
explained  the  change  that  had  taken  place 
in  my  fortunes.  I  had  some  very  vague 
recollection  of  vows  of  eternal  love  being 
mingled  with  praises  of  my  worthy  uncle, 
and  the  state  of  my  affections  and  finances 
were  jumbled  up  together,  but  still  suffi- 
ciently intelligible  to  satisfy  my  beloved 
Jane  that  this  time,  at  least,  I  made  love 
with  something  more  than  my  own  consent 
to  support  me.  Before  we  had  walked 
half  round  the  garden  she  had  promised 
to  be  mine  ;  and  Harry  Lorrequer,  who 
rose  that  morning  with  nothing  but  de- 
spair and  darkness  before  him,  was  now 
the  happiest  of  men. 

Dear  reader,  I  have  little  more  to  con- 
fess. Lord  Callonby's  politics  were  fortu- 
nately deemed  of  more  moment  than  maid- 
enly scruples,  and  the  treasury  benches 
more  respected  than  the  trousseau.  Our 
wedding  was  therefore  settled  for  the  fol- 
lowing week.  Meanwhile  every  day  seemed 
to  teem  with  its  own  meed  of  good,  fortune. 
My  good  uncle,  under  whose  patronage, 


forty  odd  years  before,  Colonel  Kamworth 
had  obtained  bis  commission,  undertook 
to  effect  the  reconciliation  between  him 
and  the  Wallers,  who  now  onl)  waited  for 
our  wedding  before  the,  set  out  for  llv- 
drabad  cottage,  that  snug  receptacle  of 
curry  and   Madeira,  Jack  coi  hat 

he  had  rat  her  listen  to  t  he  ,  ii  g<  of  Java 
by  i hat  fireside,  t han  hear  an  accounl  of 
Waterloo  from  the  lips  of  the  great  Duke 

hi  in  self. 

I  wrote  to  Trevanion  to  invite  him  over 
to  Munich  for  the  ceremony,  and  the  same 
post  which  informed  me  that  he  was  en 
mule  to  join  ns,  broughi  also  a  letter  from 
my  eccentric  friend  O'Leary,  whose  name 
having  so  often  occurred  in  these  Confes- 
sions, I  am  tempted  to  read  aloud  :  the 
more  so  as  its  contents  are  no  secret,  Kil- 
kee  having  insisted  upon  reading  it  to  a 
committee  of  the  whole  family  assembled 
after  dinner. 

"Dear  Lorrequer, — The  trial  is  over, 
and  I  am  acquitted,  but  still  in  Sainte 
Pelagie  ;  for  as  the  government  were  de- 
termined to  cut  my  head  off,  if  guilty,  so 
the  mob  resolved  to  murder  me,  if  inno- 
cent. A  pleasant  situation  this.  Before 
the  trial,  1  was  the  most  popular  man  in' 
Paris  ;  my  face  was  in  every  print -.-Imp  ; 
plaster  busts  of  me,  with  a  great  organ  be- 
hind the  ear,  in  all  the  thoroughfares  :  my 
autograph  selling  at  si x-and -twenty  sous, 
and  a  lock  of  my  hair  at  five  francs.  Now 
that  it  is  proved  I  did  not  murder  the 
'minister  at  war'  (who  is  in  excellent 
health  and  spirits),  the  popular  feeling 
against  me  is  very  violent,  and  J  am  looked 
upon  as  an  impostor,  who  had  obtained  his 
notoriety  under  false  pretences;  and  Ver- 
net,who  had  begun  my  picture  for  a  Judas, 
has  left  oil  in  disgust.  Your  friend  Tre- 
vanion is  a  trump  ;  he  procured  a  Tippera- 
ry  gentleman  to  run  away  with  Mrs.  Ram, 
and  they  were  married  at  Frankfort  on 
Tuesday  last.  By  the  by,  what  an  escape 
you  had  of  Emily  :  she  was  only  quizzing 
you  all  the  time.  She  is  engaged  to  be 
married  to  Tom  O'Flaherty,  who  is  here 
now.  Emily's  imitation  of  you,  with  the 
hat  a  little  on  one  side, and  a  handkerchief 
flourishing  away  in  one  hand,  is  capital  ; 
hut  when  she  kneels  down  and  says. '  Dear- 
est Emily,'  etc.,  you'd  swear  it  was  your- 
self.—  [Here  the  laughter  of  the  auditory 
prevented  Kilkee  proceeding,  who.  to  my 
utter  confusion,  resumed  after  a  little.]  — 
Don't  be  losing  your  time  making  up  to 
Lord  Callonby's  daughter — [here  came 
another  burst  of  laughter] — they  say  here 
you    have    not    a   chance,  and,    moreover, 


228 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


she's  a  downright  flirt.  —  [''It  is  your  turn 
now,  Jane,'  said  Kilkee,  scarcely  able  to 
proceed.] — Besides  that,  her  father's  a 
pompous  old  Tory,  that  won't  give  a  six- 
pence with  her ;  and  the  old  curmudgeon, 
your  uncle,  has  as  much  idea  of  providing 
for  you  as  he  has  of  dying. — [This  last 
sally  absolutely  convulsed  all  parties.] — To 
be  sure,  Kilkee's  a  fool,  but  he  is  no  use  to 
you. — ['Begad,  I  thought  I  was  going  to 
escape,'  said  the  individual  alluded  to, 
'but  your  friend  O'Leary  cuts  on  every 
side  of  him.']"  The  letter,  after  some 
very  grave  reflections  upon  the  hopeless- 
ness of  my  pursuit,  concluded  with  a  kind 


pledge  to  meet  me  soon,  and  become  my 
traveling  companion.  "  Meanwhile," add- 
ed he,  "  I  must  cross  over  to  London, 
and  look  after  my  new  work,  which  is  to 
come  out  soon,  under  the  title  of  '  The 
Loiterings  of  Arthur  O'Leary.'" 

This  elegant  epistle  formed  the  subject  of 
much  laughter  and  conversation  amongst 
us  long  after  it  was  concluded,  and  little 
triumph  could  be  claimed  by  any  party, 
where  nearly  all  were  so  roughly  handled. 
So  passed.the  last  evening  I  spent  in  Mu- 
nich. The  next  morning  I  was  mar- 
ried. 


Tom  Burke  of  "  Ours." 


PEEFACE. 

Before  I  had  written  the  last  chapters 
of  Jack  Hinton,  I  engaged  to  write  a  new 
story ;  and  as  the  material  I  had  already 
collected,  with  reference  to  the  campaigns 
of  the  Consulate  and  the  Empire,  still  con- 
tinued fresh  in  my  mind,  I  resolved  that  I 
would  take  that  period  for  my  tale. 

Had  I,  according  to  my  original  inten- 
tion, begun  this  story  when  I  first  con- 
ceived the  plan,  and  when  I  was  living 
abroad,  it  is  more  than  probable  that  I 
should  not  have  opened  the  tale  in  Ireland. 
But  coming  back  to  my  country,  after  an 
absence  of  three  years,  all  old  memories  and 
associations  came  flooding  in  upon  me, 
mixed  with  fresh  impressions  of  scenery, 
habits,  and  ways,  so  powerfully  that  I  could 
not  tear  myself  away  from  them  without, 
at  least,  some  words  at  parting. 

I  wanted,  besides,  to  imbue  my  hero 
so  intensely  with  the  traits  of  his  own 
country,  to  make  him  out  so  distinctly 
Irish  before  I  launched  him  among 
Frenchmen,  that  he  would  have  a  place 
in  the  reader's  mind,  and  be  able  to  attach 
to  himself  an  interest  quite  different  from 
that  of  any  other  character  in  the  story. 

Irish  Celtism  is  not  French  Celtism,  and 
though  there  are  many  points  of  contact 
there  are  disparities  and  contrasts  enough 
to  make  their  action  on  each  other  interest- 
ing and  amusing.  I  had  done  my  best  to 
store  myself  not  only  with  the  historical 
records  of  the  period  I  wanted  to  paint,  but 
to  possess  my  mind  with  all  the  coloring 
and  tone  of  men's  tempers  and  talk  ;  and 
if  my  Frenchmen  seem  more  melodramatic 
and  stagey  than  men  living  in  a  time  so 
near  our  own  should  be,  I  can  only  declare 
that  they  were  not  by  any  means  exaggera- 
tions of  the  characters  who  often  furnished 


me  with  anecdotes  and  pictures  of  the 
period. 

From  my  school  days,  the  campaigns  of 
the  great  Emperor  had  a  fascination  for  me 
beyond  anything  1  can  remember,  and  to 
write  about  them  was  to  revel  in  a  theme  I 
delighted  in.  At  the  period  when  I  was 
about  to  begin  my  story,  the  world  was 
recovering  from  all  that  depreciating  esti- 
mate of  the  great  Napoleon  which  the 
various  memories  of  St.  Helena,  and  the 
narratives  of  his  life  there,  had  dis- 
seminated. Men  were  beginning  to  forget 
the  fretful  and  impatient  scenes  with  Sir 
Hudson  Lowe,  and  the  still  smaller  com- 
plainings with  his  doctors,  and  to  turn  back- 
to  the  glorious  eras  of  his  power  and  his 
greatness  ;  and  I  derived  all  the  benefit  that 
such  a  change  in  popular  feeling  could  con- 
fer. It  is  needless  for  me  to  say  that  I  had 
no  originals  for  any  of  the  characters  of 
this  fiction  except  such  as  I  myself  derived 
from  the  narratives  of  my  informants.  For 
my  localities,  at  least,  in  battle-fields,  I  lay 
claim  to  more  accuracy,  and  on  this  sub- 
ject I  endeavored  to  be  correct. 

Writing  occasionally,  rapidly,  and  with 
my  mind  charged  with  details  derived  from 
books,  and  a  variety  of  anecdotic  matter 
communicated  by  friends  and  acquainr- 
ences,  it  is  not,  perhaps,  to  be  wondered  at 
if  I  was  often  unable  to  determine  what 
was  historical  fact,  and  what  merely  tradi- 
tionary gossip.  In  the  same  way  I  became 
confused  about  proper  names,  and  actually 
hit  upon  real  names  where  I  fervently 
believed  I  Avas  inventing. 

Washington  Irving  records  how  a  real 
Ichabod  Crane  once  called  upon  him  to 
remonstrate  with  him  on  the  liberty  he  had 
taken  to  use  his  name  in  fiction  ;  and 
though  the  author  conscientiously  believed 
he  had  invented  the  appellation,  there  is 
everv  reason  to  suppose  that  it  had  been 

229 


230 


CHARLES  LEVERS    WORKS. 


heard  by  him  and  forgotten,  and  bhat  it 
was  memory — unconscious  memory — and 
not  imagination,  had  supplied  the  curious 
designation.  A  somewhat  similar  incident 
befell  me  in  writing  this  story,  in  my  sketch 
of  a  French  duellist,  a  character  rife  enough 
in  I  be  armies  of  I  lie  Empire,  1  had  set  dovt  a 
sonic  traits  by  no  means  nattering,  or  at- 
tractive. To  this  character  I  gave  the  name 
of  Amedee  Pichot,  most  conscientiously  be- 
lieving that  I  had  invented  that  name, 
as  well  as  every  oilier  incident  about  him. 
What  was  my  surprise  on  my  return  home 
to  my  house  after  some  weeks'  absence,  tc 
discover  a  note  addressed  to  me,  along  with 
a  card  of  Amedee  Pichot ;  the  note  being  a 
most  courteous  assurance  that  he  was  not  a 
dangerous  swordsman  nor  a  hot-tempered 
individual,  but  a  very  quietly  disposed  man 
of  peaceful  pursuits,  and  editor  of  the 
Revue  Britannique,  at  Paris. 

I  regretted  sincerely  he  had  left  Ireland 
before  I  had  received  his  letter,  and  de- 
prived me  of  an  opportunity  of  making  my 
excuses  to  him  for  my  accidental  liberty, 
but  which  I  am  now  convinced  must  have 
originated  in  memory — not  invention. 

Poor  Thackeray  was  on  a  visit  with  me 
while  I  was  writing  this  story.  He  at  that 
time  was  engaged  on  his  Irish  Sketch  Book, 
and  I  believe,  though  we  discussed  every 
other  book  and  book  writer  we  could  think 
of,  neither  of  us  ever  by  a  chance  alluded 
to  what  the  other  was  employed  on.  Nay, 
I  am  wrong.  Thackeray  once  referred  to 
his  Irish  Book.  It  was  in  the  drawing- 
room,  after  dinner,  when  I  had  had  some 
twelve  or  fourteen  friends  anxious  to  meet 
the  renowned  "  Yellow  Plush  " — for  it  was 
at  that  stage  of  his  literary  eminence  he 
visited  Ireland,  and  was  not  yet,  known  by 
the  transcendent  success  of  "  Vanity  Fair." 
"  Can  any  of  your  friends  here,"  whispered 
he  to  me,  "  cram  me  on  the  subject  of  the 
Irish  Corporation  ? "  it  was  the  time  of 
O'Connell's  mayoralty — "  I  must  give  them 
a  page  or  two." 

"There's  your  man,"  said  I,  leading  him 
to  Isaac  Butt.  "He  is  an  Alderman,  and 
in  a  question  of  '  cram,'  equal  to  any- 
thing— from  the  siege  of  Troy  to  Donny- 
brook  Fair." 

My  friend  Butt  did  not  discredit  the  re- 
putation I  gave  him.  He  invited  us  both 
to  breakfast  for  the  following  Monday,  and 
for  Thackeray's  enlightenment  and  amuse- 
ment he  got  up  a  debate,  which  incidental- 
ly opened  the  question  of  the  Kepeal  of  the 
Union,  and  called  up  the  Liberator  himself 
to  speak  with  an  amount  of  temper  and 
passion,  that  showed  he  had  detected  the 
spirit  of  the  discussion,  and.  knew  it  to  be 


merely  a  "field  day"  got  up  to  amuse  the 
stranger. 

[f  I  have  wandered  away  from  Tom 
Burke  to  memories  of  the  time  and  circum- 
stances in  which  it  was  written,  1  askpar- 
don  for  my  egotism  ;  but  in  good  truth,  I 
remember  everything  about  that  period 
belter  than  the  details  of  my  daily  work. 

It  was  a  very  happy  period  of  my  life. 
As  editor  of  the  Dublin  University  \! 
zinc,  I  had  drawn  around  me  a  circle  of 
men  of  very  great  and  varied  powers,  and 
when  I  mention  such  names  as  Archie  But- 
ler, Petrie,  Griffin,  the  late  Bishop  of  Lim- 
erick, Butt,  and  Mortimer  O'Sullivan,  I 
may  be  believed  when  I  assert  that  conver- 
sation took  a  range  and  Avas  maintained 
with  a  brilliancy  that  left  us  nothing  to 
regret  of  the  more  famous  gatherings  at 
Holland  or  Gore  House.  Indeed,  Thack- 
eray himself  assured  me  he  had  met  no  such 
collective  agreeability  anywhere. 

If  the  men  who  wrote  for  the  University 
Magazine  were  all,  more  or  less,  engrossed 
in  their  several  careers,  as  churchmen,  bar- 
risters, and  physicians,  and  there  was  con- 
sequently less  of  that  bond  of  professional 
spirit,  which  they  who  make  literature  a 
career,  possess  ;  there  was,  on  the  other 
hand,  a  great  breadth  from  the  diversity  of 
daily  occupation,  vast  variety  from  the  con- 
trasts of  experiences,  and  a  total  absence  of 
all  the  rivalries  and  jealousies  that#unhap- 
pily  attend  men  when  seeking  distinction 
by  the  same  road. 

I  will  not  say  that  quizzing,  a  very  Irish 
defect,  was  not  rife  amongst  us,  and  that 
any  lapses  into  tall  talk  or  any  slips  of 
"  sentimentality  "  in  an  article,  would  not 
have  met  very  summary  punishment  as  we 
sat  after  dinner,  but  on  the  whole  there 
was  great  good  humor  and  great  good  fel- 
lowship, and  to  the  very  few  who  remain — 
for  alas  !  the  ranks  are  grievously  thinned 
— my  heart  warms  as  I  write  these  words 
of  memory. 

If  I  have  not  been  able  to  say  much 
about  the  history  of  Tom  Burke,  I  have 
candidly  related  in  what  spirit  it  was  writ- 
ten ;  or,  what  is  pleasanter  to  remember,  in 
what  companionship.  The  tale  was  well 
received  when  it  appeared,  and  although 
some  of  my  critics  seemed  to  opine  that  in 
striving  to  anything  other  than  to  make 
them  laugh,  I  was  passing  beyond  the  lim- 
its of  my  brief,  on  the  whole  they  were 
kindly  disposed  toward  me,  reproved  my 
shortcomings  with  gentleness,  and  gave  me 
encouragement  for  future  efforts.  Thack- 
eray's inimitable  burlesque  of  the  book  did 
not,  as  I  am  sure  he*  never  intended  it 
should,   describe  it,  nor  has  anyone  more 


TOM   BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


231 


thoroughly  relished  this  novel  by  an  emi- 
nent hand  than  the  w<  n  quizzed  object  of 
it, 

CHARLES  LEVER. 

Trieste,  1872. 


CHAPTER  I. 


MYSELF. 


It  was  at  the  close  of  a  cold,  raw  day  in 
January — no  matter  for  the  year — that 
the  Galway  mail  was  seen  to  wind  its  slow 
course  through  that  long  and  dull  plain 
that  skirts  the  Shannon,  as  you  approach 
tile  "sweet  town  of  Athlone."  The  reek- 
ing box-coats  and  dripping  umbrellas  that 
hung  down  on  every  side  bespoke  a  clay  of 
heavy  rain,  while  the  splashed  and  mud- 
stained  panels  of  the  coach  bore  token  of 
cut-up  roads,  which  the  jaded  and  toil- 
worn  horses  amply  confirmed.  If  the  out- 
sides,  with  hats  pressed  firmly  down,  and 
heads  bent  against  the  cutting  wind,  pre- 
sented an  aspect  far  from  comfortable, 
those  within,  who  peeped  with  difficulty 
through  the  dim  glass,  had  little  to  charm 
the  eye  ;  their  flannel  nightcaps  and  red 
comforters  were  only  to  be  seen  at  rare  in- 
tervals, as  they  gazed  on  the  dreary  pros- 
pect, and  then  sank  back  into  the  coach,  to 
con  over  their  moody  thoughts,  or  if  for- 
tunate, perhaps  to  doze. 

In  the  rumble,  with  the  guard,  sat  one, 
whose  burly  figure  and  rosy  cheeks  seemed 
to  feel  no  touch  of  the  inclement  wind  that 
made  his  companions  crouch.  An  oiled- 
silk  foraging  cap,  fastened  beneath  the 
chin,  and  a  large  mantle  of  blue  cloth,  be- 
spoke him  a  soldier,  if  even  the  assured 
tone  of  his  voice,  and  a  ■  certain  easy  car- 
riage of  his  head,  had  not  conveyed  to  the 
acute  observer  the  same  information. 

Unsubdued  in  spirit,  undepressed  in 
mind,  either  by  the  long  day  "of  pouring 
rain  or  the  melancholy  outline  of  country 
on  every  side,  his  dark  eye  flashed  as 
brightly  from  beneath  the  brim  of  his  cap, 
and  his  ruddy  face  beamed  as  cheerily,  as 
though  Nature  had  put  forth  her  every 
charm  of  weather  and  scenery  to  greet  and 
delight  him. 

Now  inquiring  of  the  guard  of  the  vari- 
ous persons  whose  property  lay  on  either 
side,  the  name  of  some  poor  hamlet  or 
some  humble  village,  now  humming  to 
himself  some  stray  verse  of  an  old  cam- 
paigning song,  he  passed  his  time,  diversi- 
fying these  amusements  by  a  courteous  sa- 
lute to  a  gaping  country  girl,  as,  with  un- 


meaning look,   she  stared   at    the   pass 
i.       ;»iK     his     principal     occupation 

seemed  to  consisl  in  retaining  one  wing  of 
In-  wide  cloak  around  the  figure  of  a  little 

!.ov,  who  lay  asleep  beside  him,  and 
whose  head  jogged  heavily  against  hi-  arm 
with  every  motion  of  the  coach. 

••  Ami    so    that's    At  hlone,  yonder,  yon 
iell    me,"   -aid    the   Captain,   for  su<  h 
was.        "  '  The     .  weei     town     of     Athlone, 
ochone  ! '     Well,  it  might    he  worse. 
passed  ten  years  in  Africa — on  the  burning 
coast,  as  they  (all  it  :  you  never  lighl  a  lip 
to  cook  your  victuals,  lot   only   lay   them 
before  the  sun  for  ten  minutes,  game  some- 
thing less,  and  th"  joint's  done;   all   true. 
by  Jove  !     Lie  still,  my  young  friend,  or 
you'll    heave  us  both   over  !     And   wh 
abouts  does  he  live,  guard  ?  " 

"  Something  like  a  mile  and  a  half  from 
here,;'  replied  the  gruff  guard. 

"Poor  little  fellow,  he's  sleeping  it  out 
well.  They  certainly  don't  takeover  much 
care  of  him,  or  they'd  never  have  sent  him 
on  the  top  of  a  coach,  in  weather  like  this, 
without  even  a  preat  coat  to  cover  him.  I 
say,  Tom,  my  lad,  wake  up,  you're  not  far 
from  home  now.  Are  you  dreau 
the  plum-pudding,  and  the  pony,  and  tin- 
big  spaniel — eh  ?  " 

"  Whist  !  "    said   the   guard,  in    a  low 
whisper.      "The   chap's   father   is   dying. 
and  they've  sent  for  him  from  school  to 
him." 

A  loud  blast  of  the  horn  now  awoke  me 
thoroughly  from  thehalf  dreamy  slumber  in 
which  I  had  listened  to  the  previous  dia- 
logue, and  I  sat  up  and  looked  about  me. 
Yes,  reader,  my  unworthy  self  it  was  who 
was  then  indulging  in  as  pleasant  a  dream 
of  home  and  holidays  as  ever  blessed  even 
a  schoolboy's  vigils.  Though  my  eyes 
were  open,  it  was  some  minutes  before  I 
could  rally  myself  to  understand  where  I 
was,  and  "with  what  object.  My  ■ 
were  blunted  by  cold,  and  my  drenched 
limbs  were  cramped  and  stiffened  ;  for  the 
worthy  captain,  to  whose  humanity  I  owed 
the  share  of  his  cloak,  had  only  joined  the 
coach  late  in  the  day,  and  during  the 
whole  morning  I  had  been  exposed  to  the 
most  pitiless  downpour  of  rain  and  sleet. 

"Here  you  are  !"  said  the  rough  guard, 
as  the  coach  drew  up  to  let  me  down. 
"No  need  of  blowing  the  horn  here,  I 
suppose." 

This  was  said  in  allusion  to  the  misera- 
ble appearance  of  the  ruined  cabin  that  fig 
!  ured  as  my  father's  gate-lodge,  where  some 
naked  children  were  seen  standing  befoiv 
the  door,  looking  with  astonishment  at  the 
;  coach  and  passengers. 


232 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


"Well,  good-by,  my  little  man.  1  hope 
you'll  find  the  governor  lienor.  Give  him 
my  respects;  and,  hark  ye,  if  ever  you 
come  over  to  Athlone  don't  forget  to  come 
and  see  me — Captain  Bubbleton — George 
Frederick  Augustus  Bubbleton,  451])  Reg- 
iment, or,  when  at  home,  Little  Bubbleton, 
Herts,  and  Bungalow  Hut,  in  the  Carna- 
tic  :  that's  the  mark  ;  so  srood-by — good- 
by."  *  ^     ° 

I  waved  my  hand  to  him  in  adieu,  and 
then  turned  to  enter  the  gate. 

"Well,  Frcney,"  said  I,  to  a  half-dress- 
ed, wild-looking  figure  that  rushed  out  to 
lift  the  gate  open,  for  the  hinges  had  been 
long  broken,  and  it  was  attached  to  the 
pier  by  some  yards  of  strong  rope,  "  how 
is  my  father  ?  " 

A  gloomy  nod  and  a  discouraging  sign 
with  his  open  hand  were  the  only  reply. 

"  Is  there  any  hope  ?  "  said  I,  faintly. 

"Sorrow  one  of  me  knows.  I  daren't 
go  near  the  h  ouse.  I  was  sarved  wi  th  no- 
tice to  quit  a  month  ago,  and  they  tell  him 
I'm  gone.  Oh,  to,  vo  !  what's  to  become 
of  us  all ! " 

I  threw  the  bag,  which  contained  my 
humble  wardrobe,  on  my  shoulder,  and, 
without  waiting  for  further  questioning, 
walked  forward.  Night  was  falling  fast-, 
and  nothing  short  of  my  intimacy  with 
the  place  from  infancy  could  have  enabled 
me  to  find  my  way.  The  avenue,  from 
long  neglect  and  disuse,  was  completely 
obliterated ;  the  fences  were  broken  up  to 
burn;  the  young  trees  had  mostly  shared 
the  same  fate ;  the  cattle  strayed  at  will 
through  the  plantations,  and  all  bespoke 
utter  ruin  and  destruction. 

If  the  scene  around  me  was  sad,  it  only 
the  better  suited  my  own  heart.  I  was  re- 
turning to  a  home  where  I  had  never  heard 
the  voice  of  kindness  or  affection  ;  where 
one  fond  word — one  look  of  welcome  had 
never  met  me.  I  was  returning,  not  to  re- 
ceive the  last  blessing  of  a  loving  parent, 
but  merely  sent  for  as  a  necessary  ceremony 
on  the  occasion.  And  perhaps  there  was  a 
mock  propriety  in  inviting  me  once  more 
to  the  house  which  I  was  never  to  revisit. 
My  father — a  widower  for  many  years — had 
bestowed  all  his  affection  on  my  elder 
brother,  to  whom  so  much  of  his  property 
as  had  escaped  the  general  wreck  was  to  de- 
scend. He  had  been  sent  to  Eton  under 
the  guidance  of  a  private  tutor,  Avhile  an 
obscure  Dublin  school  was  deemed  good 
enough  for  me.  For  him  every  nerve  wa- 
st rained  to  supply  all  his  boyish  extrava- 
gance, and  enable  him  to  compete  with 
the  sons  of  men  of  high  rank  and  fortune, 
whose    names,    mentioned    in   his    letters 


home,  were  an  ample  recompense  for  ail 
the  lavish  expenditure  their  intimacy  en- 
tailed. My  letters  were  few  and  bri<  f. 
their  unvaried  theme  the  delay  in  the  last 
quarter's  payment,  or  the  unfurnished  con- 
dition of  my  little  trunk,  which  more  than 
once  exposed  me  to  the  taunts  of  my 
schoolfellows. 

lie  was  a  iaii'  and  delicate  boy,  timid  in 
manner,  and  retiring  in  disposition  ;  I,  a 
brown-faced  varlet,  who  knew  every  one 
from  the  herd  to  the  high-sheriff.  To  him 
the  servants  were  directed  to  look  up  as  the 
head  of  the  house,  while  I  was  consigned 
either  to  total  neglect,  or  the  attentions  of 
those  who  only  figured  as  supernumeraries 
in  our  army  list. 

Yet,  with  all  these  sources  of  jealousy 
between  us,  we  loved  each  other  tenderly. 
George  pitied  "poor  Tommy,"  as  he  called 
me  ;  and  for  that  very  pity  my  heart  clang- 
to  him.  He  would  often  undertake  to 
plead  my  cause  for  those  bolder  infractions 
his  gentle  nature  never  ventured  on,  and 
it  was  only  from  long  association  with  boys 
of  superior  rank,  whose  habits  and  opinions 
he  believed  to  be  standards  for  his  imita- 
tion, that  at  length  a  feeling  of  estrange- 
ment grew  up  between  us,  and  we  learned 
to  look  somewhat  coldly  on  each  other. 

From  these  brief  details  it  will  not  be 
wondered  at  if  I  turned  homeward  with  a 
heavy  heart.  From  the  hour  I  received 
the  letter  of  my  recall — which  was  written 
by  my  father's  attorney  in  most  concise  and 
legal  phrase — I  had  scarcely  ceased  to  shed 
tears  ;  for,  so  it  is,  there  is  something  in 
the  very  thought  of  being  left  an  orphan, 
friendless  and  unprotected,  quite  distinct 
from  the  loss  of  affection  and  kindn<  ss 
which  overwhelms  the  young  heart  with  a 
very  flood  of  Avretchedness.  Besides,  a 
stray  word  or  two' of  kindness  had  now  and 
then  escaped  my  father  toward  me,  and  I 
treasured  these  up  as  my  richest  posses- 
sion. I  thought  of  them  over  and  over. 
Many  a  lonely  night,  when  my  heart  has 
been*  low  and  sinking,  I  repeated  them  to 
myself,  like  talismans  against  grief  ;  and 
Avhen  I  slept,  my  dreams  would  dwell  on 
them,  and  make  my  waking  happy. 

As  I  issued  from  a  dark  copse  of  beech- 
trees  the  indistinct  outline  of  the  old  house 
met  my  eye.  I  could  trace  the  high-pitch- 
ed roof,  the  tall  and  pointed  gables  against 
the  sky,  and  with  a  strange  sense  of  unde- 
finable  fear,  beheld  a  solitary  light  that 
twinkled  from  the  window  of  an  upper 
room,  where  my  father  lay  ;  the  remainder 
of  the  building  was  in  deep  shadow'. 

I  mounted  the  long  flight  of  stone  steps 
that  led  to  what  once  had  been  a  terrace  ; 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


233 


but  the  balustrades  were  broken  many  a 
year  ago,  and  even  the  heavy  granite  stone 
had  been  smashed  in  several  places.  The 
hall-door  lay  wide  open,  and  the  hall  itself 
had  no  other  light  save  such  as  the  flicker- 
ing of  a  wood  fire  afforded,  as  its  uncertain 
Hashes  fell  upon  the  dark  wainscot  and  the 
floor. 

I  had  just  recognized  the  grim,  old-fash- 
ioned portraits  that  covered  the  walls,  when 
my  eye  was  attracted  by  a  figure  near  the 
fire.  I  approached,  and  beheld  an  old  man 
doubled  with  age  ;  bis  bleared  eyes  were 
bent  upon  the  wood  embers,  which  he  was 
trying  to  rake  together  with  a  stick.  His 
clothes  bespoke  the  most  miserable  poverty, 
and  afforded  no  protection  against  the  cold 
and  cutting  blast.  He  was  croning  some 
old  song  to  himself  as  I  drew  near,  and 
paid  no  attention  to  me.  I  moved  round 
so  as  to  let  the  light  fall  on  his  face,  and 
then  perceived  it  was  old  Lanty,  as  he  was 
called.  Poor  fellow  !  Age  and  neglect 
had  changed  him  sadly  since  I  had  seen 
him  last.  He  had  been  the  huntsman  of 
the  family  for  two  generations,  but  having 
somehow  displeased  my  father  one  day  at 
the  cover,  he  rode  at  him  and  struck  him 
on  the  head  with  his  loaded  whip.  The 
man  fell  senseless  from  his  horse,  and  was 
carried  home.  A  few  days,  however,  en- 
abled him  to  rally  and  be  about  again,  but 
his  senses  had  left  him  forever.  All  recol- 
lection of  the  unlucky  circumstance  had 
faded  from  his  mind,  and  his  rambling 
thoughts  dwelt  on  his  old  pursuits,  so  that 
he  passed  his  days  about  the  stables,  look- 
ing after  the  horses  and  giving  directions 
about  them.  Latterly  he  had  become  too 
infirm  for  this,  and  never  left  his  own 
cabin  ;  but  now,  from  some  strange  cause, 
he  had  come  up  to  "the  house,"  and  was 
sitting  by  the  fire  as  I  found  him. 

They  who  know  Ireland  will  acknowledge 
the  strange  /impulse  which,  at  the  approach 
of  death,  seems  to  excite  the  people  to  con- 
gregate about  the  house  of  mourning.  The 
passion  for  deep  and  powerful  excitement 
— the  most  remarkable  feature  in  their 
complex  nature— seems  to  revel  in  the  de- 
tails of  sorrow  and  suffering.  Not  content 
even  with'  the  tragedy  before  them,  they 
call  in  the  aid  of  superstition  to  heighten 
the  awfulness  of  the  scene  ;  and  "every 
story  of  ghost  and  banshee  is  conned  over 
in  tones  that  need  not  the  occasion  to  make 
them  thrill  upon  the  heart.  At  such  a 
time,  the  deepest  workings  of  their  wild 
spirits  are  revealed.  Their  grief  is  low  and 
sorrow-struck,  or  it  is  loud  and  passionate; 
now  breaking  into  some  plaintive  wail  over 
the  virtues  of  the  departed,  now  bursting 


into  a  frenzied  appeal  to  the  Father  of 
Mercies  as  to  the  justice  of  recalling  those 

from  earth   who  were  its  blessing  ;  while, 
stranger  than  all,  a  dash  of  re< 
men!  \\  ill  break  in  upon  i  be  gloom,  bul  it 
is  like  the  red  lightning  through  the  storm, 
that,   as   it    rend-   I  be  cloud,  only  displ 
the  havoc  and  desolation  aronnd,  and  at 
its  parting   leaves  even  a  blacker  dark. 
behind  it. 

From  my  infancy  1  had  been  familiar 
with  scenes  of  this  kind,  am)  my  habit  of 
stealing  away  unobserved  from  home  to 
witness  a  country  wake  had  endeared  me 
much  to  the  country  people,  who  felt  this 
no  small  kindness  from  "  the  master's  son." 
Somehow,  the  read\  welcome  ami  atten- 
tion I  always  met  with  had  worked  on  my 
young  heart,  and  I  learned  to  feel  all  the 
interest  of  these  scenes  fully  as  much  as 
those  about  me.  It  was,  then,  with  a 
sense  of  desolation  that  I  looked  upon 
one  solitary  mourner  who  now  sat  at  the 
hearth — that  poor  old  idiot  man  who  gazed 
on  vacancy,  or  muttered  with  parched  li]  a 
some  few  words  to  himself.  That  he  alone 
should  be  found  to  join  his  sorrows  to  our--, 
seemed  to  me  like  utter  destitution,  and 
as  I  leaned  against  the  chimney  I  burst 
into  tears. 

"Don't  cry,  alannah,  don't  cry,"  said 
the  old  man  ;  "  it's  the  worst  way  at  all. 
Get  up  again  and  ride  him  at  it  bould. 
Oh,  vo,  look  at  where  the  thief  is  taking 
now — along  the  stone  wall  there  !  "  Here 
he  broke  out  into  a  low,  wailing  ditty  : 

"  And  the  fox  set  him  down  and  looked  about, 
And  many  were  feared  to  follow. 
'Maybe  I'm  wrong,'  says  he,  'but  I  doubt 

That  you'll  be  as  gay  to-morrow. 
For  loud  as  yen  cry,  and  high  as  you  ride, 

And  little  you  feel  my  sorrow, 
I'll  be  free  on  the  mountain-side, 
While  you'll  lie  low  to-morrow.' 

Oh.  Moddideroo,  aroo.  aroo. 

Ay,  just  so — they'll  run  to  earth  in  the  cold 
churchyard.  Whisht — hark  there— soho, 
soho — that's  Badger  I  hear." 

I  turned  away  with  a  bursting  heart,  and 
felt  my  way  up  the  broad  oak  stair,  which 
was  left  in  complete  darkness.  As  I  reached 
the  corridor,  oil'  which  the  bedrooms  lav.  I 
heard  voices  talking  together  in  a  low  tone 
— they  came  from  my  father's  room,  the 
door  of  which  lay  ajar.  I  approached 
noiselessly  and  peeped  in  :  by  the  fire, 
which  was  the  only  light  now  in  the  apart- 
ment, sat  two  persons  at  a  small  table,  one 
of  whom  I  at  once  recognized  as  the  tall, 
solemn-looking  figure  of  Doctor  Finnerty  •, 
the  other  I  delected  by  the  sharp  tones  of 


534 


CHARLES  LEVERS    WORKS. 


his   voice  to  be  Mr.  Anthony  Basset,   my 
father's  confidential  attorney. 

On  the  table  before  them  lay  a  mass  of 
papers,  parchments,  leases,  deeds,  together 
with  glasses  and  a  black  bottle,  whose  ac- 
companiments of  hot  water  and  sugar  left 
no  doubt  as  to  its  contents.  The  chimney- 
piece  was  crowded  with  a  range  of  vials 
and  medicine  bottles,  some  of  them  empty, 
some  of  them  half-finished.  From  the  bed 
in  the  corner  of  the  room  came  the  heavy 
sounds  of  snoring  respiration,  which  either 
betokened  deep  sleep  or  insensibility.  If  I 
enjoyed  but  little  favor  in  .  my  fathers 
house,  I  owed  much  of  the  coldness  shown 
to  me  to  the  evil  influence  of  the  very  two 
persons  who  sat  before  me  in  conclave.  Of 
the  precise  source  of  the  doctor's  dislike  I 
was  not  quite  clear,  except,  perhaps,  that  I 
recovered  from  the  measles  when  he  pre- 
dicted my  certain  death  ;  the  attorney's 
was,  however,  no  mystery.  About  three 
years  before  he  had  stopped  to  breakfast  at 
our  house  on  his  way  to  Ballinasloe  fair. 
As  his  pony  was  led  round  to  the  stable  it 
caught  my  eye.  It  was  a  most  tempting 
'bit  of  horseflesh,  full  of  spirit  and  in  top 
condition,  for  he  was  going  to  sell  it.  I 
followed  him  round,  and  appeared  just  as 
the  servant  was  about  to  unsaddle  him. 
The  attorney  was  no  favorite  in  the  house, 
and  I  had  little  difficulty  in  persuading  the 
man,  instead  of  taking  off  the  saddle, 
merely  to  shorten  the  stirrups  to  the  ut- 
most limit.  The  next  minute  I  was  on  his 
back  flying  over  the  lawn  at  a  stretching 
gallop.  Fences  abounded  on  all  sides,  and 
I  rushed  him  at  double  ditches,  stone  walls, 
and  bog- wood  rails,  with  a  mad  delight 
that  at  every  leap  rose  higher.  After  about 
three  quarters  of  an  hour  thus  passed,  his 
blood,  as  well  as  my  own,  being  by  this 
time  thoroughly  roused,  I  determined  to 
try  him  at  the  wall  of  an  old  pound,  which 
stood  some  few  hundred  yards  from  the 
front  of  the  house.  Its  exposure  to  the 
window,  at  any  other  time,  would  have  de- 
terred me  from  even  the  thought  of  such 
an  exploit,  but  now  I  was  quite  beyond  the 
pale  of  such  cold  calculations;  besides  that 
I  was  accompanied  by  a  select  party  of  all 
the  laborers,  with  their  wives  and  children, 
whose  praises  of  my  horsemanship  would 
have  made  me  take  the  lock  of  a  canal  if 
before  me.  A  fine  gallop  of  grass  sward  led 
to  the  pound,  and  over  this  I  went,  cheered 
with  as  merry  a  cry  as  ever  stirred  a  light 
heart.  One  glance  I  threw  at  the  house  as 
I  drew  near  the  leap;  the  window  of  the 
breakfast  parlor  was  open,  my  father  and 
Mr.  Basset  were  both  at  it ;  I  saw  their 
faces  red  with  passion,  I  heard  their  loud 


shout;  my  very  spirit  sickened  within  me — 
I  saw  no  more — I  felt  the  pony  rush  at  the 
wall — the  quick  stroke  of  his  feet — the  rise 
— the  plunge  and  then  a  crash — and  I 
was  sent  spinning  over  his  head  some  half- 
dozen  yards,  plowing  up  the  ground  on 
face  and  hands.  I  was  carried  home  with 
a  broken  head;  the.  pony's  knees  were  in 
the  same  condition.  My  father  said  that 
he  ought  to  be  shot  for  humanity's  sake  ; 
Tony  suggested  the  same  treatment  for  me, 
on  similar  grounds.  The  upshot,  how- 
ever, was,  I  secured  an  enemy  for  life,  and, 
worse  still,  one  whose  power  to  injure  was 
equaled  by  his  inclination. 

Into  the  company  of  these  two  worthies  I 
now  found  myself  thus  accidentally  thrown, 
and  would  gladly  Iiave  retreated  at  once, 
but  that  some  indescribable  impulse  to  be 
near  my  father's  sick-bed  was  oh  me,  and 
so  I  crept  stealthily  in  and  sat  down  in  a 
large  chair  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  where 
unnoticed  I  listened  to  the  long-drawn 
heavings  of  his  chest,  and  in  silence  wept 
over  my  own  desolate  condition. 

For  a  long  time  the  absorbing  nature  of 
my  own  grief  prevented  me  hearing  the 
muttered  conversation  near  the  fire  ;  but 
at  length,  as  the  night  wore  On,  and  my 
sorrow  had  found  vent  in  tears,  I  began  to 
listen  to' the  dialogue  beside  me. 

"  He'll  have  five  hundred  pounds  under 
his  grandfather's  will  in  spite  of  us ;  but 
what's  that  ?  "  said  the  attorney. 

"  I'll  take  him  as  an  apprentice  for  it, 
I  know,"  said  the  doctor,  with  a  grin  that 
made  me  shudder. 

"That's  settled  already,"  replied  Mr. 
Basset.  "He's  to  be  articled  to  me  for 
five  years  ;  but  I  think  it's  likely  he'll  go 
to  sea  before thetime  expires.  Howbeavily 
the  old  man  is  sleeping  !  Now,  is  that 
natural  sleep  ?  " 

"  No  :  that's  always  a  bad  sign ;  that 
puffing  with  the  lips  is  generally  among 
the  last  symptoms.  Well,  he'll  be  a  loss 
anyhow,  when  he's  gone.  There's  an  eight- 
ounce  mixture  he  never  tasted  yet — in- 
fusion of  gentian  with  soda.  Put  your 
lips  to  that." 

"  Devil  a  one  o'  me  will  ever  sup  the  like," 
said  the  attorney,  finishing  his  tumbler  of 
punch  as  he  spoke.  "Pheugh  !  how  can 
you  drink  them  things  that  way  ?  " 

'*  Sure  it's  the  compound  infusion  made 
with  orange  peel  and  cardamom  seeds. 
There  isn't  one  of  them  didn't  cost  two- 
and-nine-pence.  He'll  be  eight  weeks  in 
bed  come  Tuesdav  next." 

"Well,  well  !  If  he  lived  till  the  next 
assizes,  it  would  be  telling  me  four  hundred 
pounds,  not  to  speak  of  the  costs  of  two 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OCRS." 


2:55 


ejectments  I  have  in  hand  against  Mull  ins 
and  his  Cal  her-in-law." 

"  It's  a  wonder,"  said  the  doctor,  alter  a 
pause,  "that  Tom  didn't  conic  In  the 
coach.  It's  no  matter  now,  at  any  rate; 
for  since  the  eldest  son's  away,  there's  no 
one  here  to  interfere  with  us." 

"It  was  a  masterly  stroke  of  yours, 
doctor,  to  tell  I  lie  old  man  the  weather  was 
too  severe  to  bring  George  over  from  Eton. 
As  sure  as  he  came  he'd  make  up  matters 
with  Tom,  and  the  end  of  it  would  be,  I'd 
lose  the  agency,  and  you  wouldn't  have 
those  pleasant  little  bills  for  the  tenantry — 
eh,  Fin  ?  " 

"  Whisht  !  he's  waking  now.  Well,  sir — 
well,  Mr.  Burke,  how  do  you  feel  now  ? 
He's  off  again." 

"  The  funeral  ought  to  be  on  a  Sunday,'' 
said  Basset,  in  a  whisper.  "  There'll  be  no 
getting  the  people  to  come  any  other  day. 
He's  saying  something,  I  think." 

"Fin,"  said  my  fattier,  in  a  faint,  hoarse 
voice — "  Fin,  give  me  a  drink.  It's  not 
warm." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  had  it  on  the  fire." 

"Well,  then,  it's  myself  that's  growing 
cold.  How's  the  pulse  now,  Fin  ?  Is  the 
Dublin  doctor  come  yet  ?" 

"No,  sir,  we're  expecting  him  every 
minute  ;  but  sure,  you  know,  we're  doing 
everything." 

"  Oh  !  I  know  it.  Yes,  to  be  sure,  Fin  ; 
but  they've  many  a  new  thing  up  in  Dublin, 
there,  we  don't  hear  of.  Whisht  !  what's 
that?" 

"  It's  Tony,  sir,  Tony  Basset ;  he's  sitting 
up  with  me." 

"Come  over  here,  Tony.  Tony,  I'm 
going  fast.  I  feel  it,  and  my  heart  is  low. 
Could  we  withdraw  the  proceedings  about 
Freney ? " 

"  He's  the  biggest  blackguard " 

"Ah!  no  matter  now — I'm  going  to  a 
place  where  we'll  all  need  mercy.  What 
was  it  that  Canealy  said  he'd  give  for  the 
land  ?  " 

"Two  pound  ten  an  acre — and  Freney 
never  paid  thirty  shillings  out  of  it." 

"It's  mighty  odd  George  didn't  come 
over. " 

"  Sure  I  told  you  there  was  two  feet  of 
snow  on  the  ground."' 

"  Lord  be  about  us  !  what  a  severe  sea- 
son ?  But  why  isn't  Tom  here  ? "  I 
started  at  thewords,  and  was  about  to  rush 
forward,  when  he  added,  "  I  don't  want 
him,  though." 

"  Of  course  you  don't,"  said  the  attorney. 
"It's  little  comfort  he  ever  gave  you.  Are 
you  in  pain  there  ?" 

"Ay,  great  pain  over  my  heart.     Well, 


well!  don't   be    hard    to   him   when    I'm 

gone." 

••  I )ojy\    lei    him    talk    so   much,"  said 
•  >  the  doctor. 

"  Vim     in  .     Mr. 

Burke,"  said  the  doctor.     ••  Trj  and   I 
a    Bleep.     The    nighl    isn't   hall'    through 
yet." 

The  sick  man  obeyed  without   a   word, 
and   soon   after   the  heavy  respiration 
tokened  the  same  lethargic  slumber  once 
more. 

The  voices  of  the  speaker-  gradually 
fell  into  alow,  monotonous  Bound;  the 
long-drawn  breathings  from  the  sick-bed 
mingled  with  them  ;  the  fire  only  sent 
forth  an  occasional  gleam,  as  some  piece 
of  falling  turf  seemed  to  revive  its  wasting 
life,  and  shot  up  a  myriad  of  bright  sparks  : 
and  the  chirping  of  a  cricket  in  the  chim- 
ney corner  sounded  to  my  mournful  heart 
like  the  tick  of  the  death-watch. 

As  I  listened  my  tears  fell  fast,  and  a 
gulping  fullness  in  my  throat  made  me  feel 
like  one  in  suffocation.  But  deep  sorrow, 
somehow,  tends  to  sleep.  The  weariness 
of  the  long  day  and  dreary  night,  exhaus- 
tion, the  dull  hum  of  the  subdued  voices, 
and  the  faint  light,  all  combined  to  make 
me  drowsy,  and  I  fell  into  a  heavy  slum- 
ber. 

I  am  writing  now  of  the  far-off  past — of 
the  long  years  ago,  of  my  youth — since 
which  my  stared  heart  has  had  many  a 
sore  and  scalding  lesson  ;  yet  I  cannot 
think  of  that  night,  fixed  and  graven  as  it 
lies  in  my  memory,  without  a  touch  of  boy- 
ish softness.  I  remember  every  waking 
thought  that  crossed  my  mind — my  very 
dream  is  still  before  me.  It  was  of  my 
mother.  I  thought  of  her  as  she  lay  on  a 
sofa  in  the  old  drawing-room,  the  window 
open,  and  the  blinds  drawn  ;  the  gentle 
breeze  of  a  June  morning  flapping  them 
lazily  to  and  fro,  as  I  knelt  beside  her  to 
repeat  my  little  hymn,  .the  first  I  ever 
learned  ;  and  how  at  each  moment  my  1 
would  turn  and  my  thoughts  stray  to  that 
open  casement,  through  which  the  odor  of 
flowers  and  the  sweet  song  of  birds  were 
pouring  ;  and  my  little  heart  was  panting 
for  liberty,  while  her  gentle  smile  and  faint 
words  bade  me  remember  where  I  was. 
And  then  I  was  straying  away  through  the 
old  garden,  where  the  very  sunlight  fell 
scantily  through  the  thick-woven  branches, 
loaded  with  perfumed  blossom  ;  the  black- 
birds hopped  fearlessly  from  twig  to  twig, 
mingling  their  clear  notes  with  the  breezy 
murmur  of  the  leaves,  and  the  deep  hum 
of  summer  bees.  How  happy  was  I  then  ! 
And  why  cannot  such   happiness  be  last- 


236 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


ing  ?  Why  can  we  not  shelter  ourselves 
from  the  base  contamination  of  worldly 
cares,  and  live  on  amid  pleasures  pure  as 
these,  with  hearts  as  holy  and  desires  as 
simple  as  in  childhood  ? 

Suddenly  a  change  came  over  my  dream, 
and  the  dark  clouds  began  to  gather  from 
all  quarters,  and  a  low,  creeping  wind 
moaned  heavily  along.  I  thought  I  heard 
my  name  called.  I  started  and  awoke. 
For  a  second  or  two  the  delusion  was  so 
strong  that  I  could  not  remember  where  I 
was;  but  as -the  gray  light  of  a  breaking 
morning  fell  through  the  half-open  shut- 
ters, I  beheld  the  two  figures  near  the 
fire.  They  were  both  sound  asleep,  the 
deep-drawn  breathing  and  nodding  heads 
attesting  the  heaviness  of  their  slum- 
ber. 

I  felt  cold  and  cramped,  but  still  afraid 
to  stir,  although  a  longing  to  approach  the 
bedside  was  still  upon  me.  A  faint  sigh 
and  some  muttered  words  here  came  to  my 
ear,  and  I  listened.  It  was  my  father  ;  but 
so  indistinct  the  sounds,  they  seemed  more 
like  the  ramblings  of  a  dream.  I  crept 
noiselessly  on  tiptoe  to  the  bed,  and,  draw- 
ing the  curtain  gently  over,  gazed  within. 
He  was  lying  on  his  back,  his  hands  and 
arms  outside  the  clothes.  His  beard  had 
grown  so  much,  and  he  had  wasted  so  far, 
that  I  could  scarcely  have  known  him. 
His  eyes  were  wide  open,  but  fixed  on  the 
top  of  the  bed ;  his  lips  moved  rapidly, 
and,  by  his  hands,  as  they  were  closely 
clasped,  I  thought  it  was  in  prayer.  I 
leaned  over  him,  and  placed  my  hand  in 
his.  For  some  time  he  did  not  seem  to 
notice  it,  but  at  last  he  pressed  it  softly, 
and,  rubbing  the  fingers  to  and  fro,  he 
said,  in  a  low,  faint  voice,  "Is  this  your 
hand,  my  boy  ?  " 

I  thought  my  heart  would  split,  as,  in 
a  gush  of  tears,  I  bent  down  and  kissed 
him. 

"  I  cant  see  •  well,  my  dear  ;  there's 
something  between  me  and  the  light,  and 
a  weight  is  on  me — here — here — " 

A  heavy  sigh,  and  a  shudder  that  shook 
his  whole  frame,  followed  these  words.' 

"They  told  me  I  wasn't  to  see  you  once 
again,"  said  he,  as  a  sickly  smile  played 
over  his  mouth  ;  "but  I  knew  you'd  come 
to  sit  by  me.  It's  a  lonely  thing  not  to 
have  one's  own  at  such  an  hour  as  this. 
Don't  weep,  my  dear — my  own  heart's  fail- 
ing me  fast." 

A  broken,  muttering  sound  followed,  and 
then  he  said,  in  a  loud  voice  : 

"  I  never  did  it !  It  was  Tony  Basset. 
Be  told  me — he  persuaded  me.  Ah  !  that 
was  a  sore  day  when  I    listened   to   him. 


Who's  to  tell  me  I'm  not  to  be  master  of 
my  own  estate?  Turn  them  adrift — ay, 
every  man  of  them.  I'll  weed  the  ground 
of  such  wretches — eh,  Tony  ?  Did  any 
one  say  Fivney's  mother  was  dead? — they 
may  wake  her  at  the  cross  roads,  if  they 
like.  Poor  old  Molly  !  I'm  sorry  for  her. 
too.  She  nursed  me  and  my  sister  that's 
gone  ;  and  maybe  her  death-bed,  poor  as 
she  was,  was  easier  than  mine  will  be — . 
without  kith  or  kin,  child  or  friend.  Oh, 
George  ! — and  I  that  doted  on  you  with  all 
my  heart!  Whose  hand's  this? — ah,  I 
forgot,  my  darling  boy,  it's  you.  Come  to 
me  here,  my  child.  Wasn't  it  for  you  that 
I  toiled  and  scraped  this  many  a  year  ? 
Wasn't  it  for  you  that  I  did  all  this, 
and — 0  God,  forgive  me  ! — maybe  it's  mv 
soul  that  I've  periled  to  leave  you  a  rich 
man.  Where's  Tom  ? — where's  that  fclloAv 
now?" 

"  Here,  sir,"  said  I,  squeezing  his  hand, 
and  pressing  it  to  my  lips. 

He  sprang  up  at  the  words,  and  sat  up  in 
his  bed,  his  eyes  dilated  to  their  widest, 
and  his  pale  lips  parted  asunder. 

"Where  ?  "  cried  he,  as  he  felt  me  over 
with  his  thin  fingers,  and  drew  me  toward 
him. 

"  Here,  father,  here." 

"And  is  this  Tom  ?"  said  he,  as  his 
voice  fell  into  a  low,  hollow  sound,  and 
then  added,  "  Where's  George  ?— answer 
me  at  once.  Oh,  I  see  it.  He  isn't  here  ; 
he  wouldn't  come  over  to  see  his  old  father. 
Tony  !  Tony  Basset,  I  say  ! "  shouted  the 
sick  man,  in  a  voice  that  roused  the  sleep- 
ers, and  brought  them  to  his  bedside, 
"  open  that  window  there.  Let  me  look 
out — do  it  as  I  bid  you — open  it  wide.  Turn 
in  all  the  cattle  you  can  find  on  the  road. 
Do  you  hear  me,  Tony?  Drive  them 
in  from  every  side.  Finnerty,  I  say, 
mind  my  words,  for" — (here  he  uttered 
a  most  awful  and  terrific  oath)  —  "as  I 
linger  on  this  side  of  the  grave,  I'll  not 
leave  him  a  blade  of  grass  I  can  take  from 
him." 

His  chest  heaved  with  a  convulsive 
spasm,  his  face  became  pale  as  death,  his 
eyes  fixed  ;  he  clutched  eagerly  at  the  bed- 
clothes, and  then,  with  a  horrible  cry,  he 
fell  back  upon  the  pillow,  as  a  faint  stream 
of  red  blood  trickled  from  his  nostril  and 
ran  down  his  chin. 

"It's  all  over  now,"  whispered  the  doc- 
tor. 

"  Is  he  dead  ?  "  said  Basset. 

The  other  made  no  reply  ;  hut,  drawing 
the  curtains  close,  he  turned  away,  and 
they  both  moved  noiselessly  from  the 
room. 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS," 


237 


CHAPTER  II. 


DARBY — THE    "  BLAST. 


If  there  are  dreams  which,  hy  their  viv- 
idness and  accuracy  of  detail,  seem  alto- 
gether like  reality,  so  are  there  certain 
actual  passages  in  our  lives  which,  in  their 
indistinctness  while  occurring,  and  in  the 
faint  impression  they  leave  behind  them, 
seem  only  as  mere  dreams.  Most  of  our 
early  sorrows  are  of  this  kind.  The  warm 
current  of  our  young  hearts  would  appear 
to  repel  the  cold  touch  of  affliction  ;  nor 
can  grief,  at  this  period,  do  more  than 
breathe  an  icy  chill  upon  the  surface  of  our 
affections,  where  all  is  glowing  and  fervid 
beneath.  The  struggle,  then,  between  the 
bounding  heart  and  the  depressing  care, 
renders  our  impressions  of  grief  vague  and 
ill-defined. 

A  stunning  sense  of  some  great  calamity, 
some  sorrow  without  hope,  mingled  in  my 
waking  thoughts  with  a  childish  notion  of 
freedom.  Unloved,  uncared  for,  my  early 
years  presented  but  few  pleasures.  My 
boyhood  had  been  a  long  struggle  to  win 
some  mark  of  affection  from  one  who  cared 
not  for  me,  and  to  whom  still  my  heart 
had  clung,  as  does  the  drowning  man  to 
the  last  plank  of  all  the  wreck.  The  tie 
that  bound  me  to  him  was  now  severed, 
and  I  was  without  one  in  the  wide  world  to 
look  up  to  or  to  love. 

I  looked  out  from  my  window  upon  the 
bleak  country.  A  heavy  snowstorm  had 
fallen  during  the  night.  A  lowering  sky 
of  leaden  hue  stretched  above  the  dreary 
landscape,  across  which  no  living  thing  was 
seen  to  move.  Within-doors  all  was  silent. 
The  doctor  and  the  attorney  had  both 
taken  their  departure ;  the  deep  wheel- 
track  in  the  snow  marked  the  road  they 
had  followed.  The  servants,  seated  around 
the  kitchen  fire,  conversed  in  low  and  bro- 
ken whispers.  The  only  sound  that  broke 
the  stillness  was  the  ticking  of  the  clock 
upon  the  stair.  There  was  something  that 
smote  heavily  on  my  heart  in  the  monoto- 
nous ticking  of  that  clock  ;  that  told  of 
time  pas3ing  beside  him  who  had  gone  ; 
that  seemod  to  speak  of  minutes  close  to 
one  whose  minutes  Avere  eternity.  I  crept 
into  the  room  where  the  dead  body  lav,  and, 
as  my  tears  ran  fast,  I  bent  over*  it.  I 
thought  sometimes  the  expression  of  those 
cold  features  changed — now  frowning 
heavily,  now  smiling  blandly  on  me.  I 
watched  them  till,  in  my  eager  gaze,  the 
lips  seemed  to  move,  and  the  cheek  to 
flush.  How  hard  is  it  to  believe  in  death  ! 
— how  difficult  to  think  that  "  there  is  a 


sleep  that  knows  no  waking."  I  knelt 
down  beside  the  bed  and  prayed.  I  prayed 
that  now,  as  all  of  earth   was  naught  to 

him  who  was  departed,  he  would  give  me 
the  affection  he  had  not  bestowed  in  lite. 
I  besought  him  not  to  chill  i he  hear!  that 
in  its  lonely  desolation  had  neither  home 
nor  friend.  My  throat,  sobbed  to  bursting 
as  in  my  words  I  seemed  to  realize  the  full- 
ness of  my  affliction.  The  door  opened 
behind  me  as  with  bent-down  head  1  knelt. 
A  heavy  footstep  slowly  moved  along  the 
floor,  and  the  next  moment  the  tottering 
figure  of  old  Lanty  stood  beside  me,  gazing 
on  the  dead  man.  There  was  that  look  of 
vacancy  in  his  filmy  eye  that  showed  he 
knew  nothing  of  what  had  happened. 

"Is  lie  asleep,  Master  Tommy  ?"  -aid  the 
old  man,  in  a  faint  whisper. 

My  lips  trembled,  but  I  could  not  speak 
the  word. 

"I  thought  he  wanted  the  'dogs  'up  at 
Meelif ;  but  I'm  strained  here  about  the 
loins,  and  can't  go  out  myself.  Tell  him 
that  when  he  wakes." 

"  He'll  never  wake  now.  Lanty — he's 
dead,"  said  I,  as  a  rush  of  tears  half  choked 
my  utterance. 

"  Dead  ! "  said  he,  repeating  the  word 
two  or  three  times — "dead  !  Well,  well,  I 
wonder  will  Master  George  keep  the  doge 
now.  There  seldom  comes  a  better  ;  and 
'twas  himself  that  liked  the  cry  o'  them." 
He  tottered  from  the  room  as  he  spoke, 
and  I  could  hear  him  muttering  the  same 
words  over  and  over  as  he  crept  slowly 
down  the  stair. 

I  have  said  that  this  painful  stroke  of 
fortune  was  as  a  dream  to  me,  and  so  for 
three  days  I  felt  it.  The  altered  circum- 
stances of  everything  about  me  were  inex- 
plicable to  my  puzzled  brain.     The  very 

j  kindness   of    the  servants — so  unusual    to 

I  me — struck  me  forcibly.  They  felt  that 
the  time  was  past  when  any  sympathy  for 
me  had  been  the  passport  to  disfavor,  and 
they  pitied  me. 

The    funeral    took    place   on   the   third 

i  morning.  Mr.  Basset  having  acquainted 
mv  brother  that  there  was  no  necessity  for 
his  presence,  even  that  consolation  was 
denied   me,  to   meet   him   who   alone  re- 

[  mained  of  all  my  name  and  house  belong- 
ing to  me.  How  I  remember  every  detail 
of  that  morning  !  The  silence  of  the  long 
night  broken  in  upon  by  heavy  footsteps 
ascending  the  stairs — strange  voices,  not 
subdued  like  those  of  all  in  our  little  house- 
hold,  but  loud  and  coarse — even  laughter  I 
could  hear — the  noise  increasing  at  each 
moment.  Then  the  muffled  sound  of 
wheels  upon  the  snow,  and  the  cries  of  the 


238 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


drivers  as  they  urged  their  horses  forward. 
Then  a  long  interval,  in  which  nought  was 

heard  save  the  happy  whistle  of  some  poor 
postilion,  who,  careless  of  his  errand, 
whiled  away  the  tedious  time  wiih  a  lively 
tune.  And,  lastly,  there  came  the  dull 
noise  of  feet  moving  step  by  step  down  the 
stair,  the  muttered  words,  the  shuffling 
sound  of  feet  as  they  descended,  and  the 
clank  of  the  collin  as  it  struck  against  the 
wall. 

The  long,  low  parlor  was  filled  with 
people,  few  of  whom  I  had  ever  seen  be- 
fore. They  were  broken  up  into  little 
knots,  chatting  cheerfully  together,  while 
they  made  a  hurried  breakfast.  The  table 
and  sideboard  were  covered  with  a  profu- 
sion 1  had  never  witnessed  previously.  De- 
canters of  wine  passed  freely  from  hand  to 
hand  ;  and  although  the  voices  fell  some- 
what as  I  appeared  amidst  them,  1  looked 
in  vain  for  one  touch  of  sorrow  for  the 
dead,  or  even  respect  for  his  memory. 

As  I  took  my  place  in  the  carriage  beside 
the  attorney,  a  kind  of  dreamy  apathy  set- 
tled down  on  me,  and  I  scarcely  knew 
what  was  passing.  I  only  remember  the 
horrible  shrinking  sense  of  dread  with 
which  I  recoiled  from  his  one  attempt  at 
consolation,  and  the  abrupt  way  in  which 
he  desisted,  and  turned  to  converse  with 
the  doctor.  How  my  heart  sickened  as  we 
drew  near  the  churchyard,  and  I  beheld 
the  open  gate  that  stood  wide  awaiting  us. 
The  dusky  figures,  with  their  mournful 
black  cloaks,  moved  slowly  across  the 
snow,  like  spirits  of  some  gloomy  world  ; 
while  the  death-bell  echoed  in  my  ears,  and 
sent  a  shuddering  through  my  frame. 


"What  is  to  become  of  the  second  boy  ?" 
said  the  clergyman,  in  a  low  whisper,  but 
which,  by  some  strange  fatality,  struck 
forcibly  on  my  ear. 

"It  is  not  much  matter,"  replied  Basset, 
still  lower,  "  for  the  present  he  goes  home 
with  me.  Tom,  I  say,  you  come  back  with 
me  to-day." 

"No,"  said  I,  boldly,  "I'll  go  home 
again." 

"Home  !"  repeated  he,  with  a  scornful 
laugh — "  home  !  And  where  may  that  be, 
youngster  ?  " 

"  For  shame,  Basset,"  said  the  clergy- 
man, "don't  speak  that  way  to  him.  My 
little  man,  you  can't  go  home  to-day.  Mr. 
Basset  will  take  you  with  him  for  a  few 
days,  until  your  late  father's  will  is  known, 
and  his  wishes  respecting  you." 

"I'll  go  home,  sir,"  said  I,  but  in  a 
fainter  tone,  and  Avith  tears  in  my  eyes. 


"Well,  well,  let  him  do  so  for  to-day,  it 
may  relieve  his  poor  heart.  Come,  Basset, 
I'll  take  him   hack  myself." 

I  clasped  his  hand  as  he  spoke,  and  kiss- 
ed it  over  and  over. 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  cried  Basset. 
"I'll  come  over  and  fetch  him  to-morrow;" 
and  then  he  added,  in  a  lower  tone,  "and 
before  that  you'll  have  found  out  quite 
enough  to  bo  heartily  sick  of  your  charge." 

All  the  worthy  vicar's  efforts  to  rouse 
me  from  my  stupor  or  interest  me  failed. 
He  brought  me  to  his  house,  where,  amid 
his  own  happy  children,  he  deemed  my 
heart  would  have  yielded  to  the  sympathy 
of  my  own  age  ;  but  I  pined  to  get  back  :  I 
longed — why,  I  knew  not — to  be  in  my 
own  little  chamber,  alone  with  my  grief. 
In  vain  he  tried  every  consolation  his  kind 
heart  and  his  life's  experience  had  taught 
him  ;  the  very  happiness  I  witnessed  but 
reminded  me  of  my  own  state,  and  I  press- 
ed the  more  eagerly  to  return. 

It  was  late  when  he  drew  up  to  the  door  of 
the  house,  to  which  already  the  closed 
window-shutters  had  given  a  look  of  gloom 
and  desertion.  We  knocked  several  times 
before  any  one  came,  and  at  length  two  or 
three  heads  appeared  at  an  upper  window, 
in  half-terror  at  the  unlooked-for  summons 
for  admission. 

"  Good-by,  my  dear  boy,"  said  the  vicar, 
as  he  kissed  me  ;  "  don't  forget  what  I  have 
been  telling  you.  It  will  make  you  bear 
your  present  sorrow  better,  and  teach  you 
to  be  happier  when  it  is  over." 

"Come  down  to  the  kitchen,  alannah," 
said  the  old  cook,  as  the  hall  door  closed — 
"come  down  and  sit  with  us  there;  sure 
it's  no  wonder  your  heart  'ud  be  low." 

"Yes,  Master  Tommy,  and  Darby  'the 
blast '  is  there,  and  a  tune  and  the  pipes 
will  raise  you." 

I  suffered  myself  to  be  led  along  listlessly 
between  them  to  the  kitchen,  where, 
around  a  huge  fire  of  red  turf,  the  servants 
of  the  house  were  all  assembled,  together 
with  some  neighboring  cottages,  Darby 
"  the  blast  "  occupying  a  prominent  place 
in  the  party,  his  pipes  laid  across  his  knees, 
as  he  employed  himself  in  concocting  a 
smoking  tumbler  of  punch. 

"Your  most  obadient,"  said  Darby,  with 
a  profound  reverence,  as  I  entered.  "  May 
I  make  so  bowld  as  to  surmise  that  my 
presence  isn't  unsaysonable  to  your  feelins  ? 
for  I  wouldn't  be  contumacious  enough  to 
adjudicate  without  your  honor's  permis- 
sion." 

What  I  muttered  in  reply  I  know  not ; 
but  the  whole  party  were  speedily  reseated, 
every  eye  turned  admiringly  on  Darby  for 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


230 


the  very  neat  and  appropriate  expression  of 
his  apology. 

Young  as  I  was.  and  slight  as  had  been 
tin'  consideration  heretofore  accorded  me, 
there  was  that  in  the  lonely  desolation  of 
my  condition  which  awakened  all  their 
sympathies,  and  directed  all  their  interests 
toward  me  ;  and  in  no  country  arc  the  differ- 
ences of  rank  such  slight,  'harriers  in  ex- 
cluding tne  feeling  of  one  portion  of  the 
community  from  the  sorrows  of  the  others. 
The  Irish  peasant,  however  humble,  seems 
to  possess  an  intuitive  tact  on  this  subject, 
and  to  minister  all  the  consolations  in  his 
power  with  a  gentle  delicacy  that  cannot 
be  surpassed. 

The  silence  caused  by  my  appearing 
among  them  was  unbroken  for  some  time 
after  I  took  my  seat  by  the  fire  ;  and  the 
only  sounds  were  the  clinking  of  a  spoon 
against  the  glass,  or  the  deep-drawn  sigli 
of  some  compassionate  soul,  as  she  wiped  a 
st  ray  tear  from  the  corner  of  her  eye  with 
her  apron. 

Darby  alone  manifested  a  little  impati- 
ence at  the  sudden  change  in  a  party  where 
his  powers  of  agreeability  had  so  lately 
been  successful,  and  fidgeted  on  his  chair, 
unscrewed  his  pipes,  blew  into  them, 
screwed  them  on  again,  and  then  slyly  nod- 
ded over  to  the  housemaid,  as  he  raised  his 
glass  to  his  lips. 

"Never  mind  me,"  said  I  to  the  old 
cook,  who,  between  grief  and  the  glare  of 
a  turf  '  fire,  had  her  face  swelled  out  to 
twice  its  natural  size — "  never  mind  me, 
Molly,  or  I'll  go  away." 

"And  why  would  you,  darlin'  ?  Troth, 
no  !  sure  there's  nobody  feels  for  you  like 
them  that  was  always  about  you.  Take  a 
cup  of  tay,  alannah — it'll  do  you  good." 

"Yes,  Master  Tom,"  said  the  butler; 
"  you  never  tasted  anything  since  Tuesday 
night," 

"  Do,  sir,  av  ye  plaze  ?"  said  the  pretty 
housemaid,  as  she  stood  before  me,  cup  in 
hand. 

"  Arrah  !  what's  tay  ?"  said  Darby,  in  a 
contemptuous  tone  of  voice  :  "  a  few  dirty 
laves,  with  a  drop  of  water  on  top  of  them", 
that  has  neither  beatification  nor  invigo- 
ration.  Here's  the  'fons  animil ' "  said  he, 
patting  the  whisky  bottle  affectionately. 
"  Did  ye  ever  hear  of  the  ancients  indulg- 
ing in  tay?  D'ye  think  Polyphamus  and 
Jupither  took  tay  ?" 

The  cook  looked  down  abashed  and 
ashamed. 

"Tay's  good  enough  for  women — no 
offense,  Mrs.  Cook  ! — but  you  might  boil 
down  Paykin  and  it'd  never  be  potteen. 
'Ex  quo   vis  ligno  non  Jit   Mcrcurius' — 


•  You  can't  make  a  silk  purse  on!  oi  a 
sow's  car.'  That's  the  meaning  of  it — 
Hi/mis  a  sow." 

Heaven  knows  I  was  in  do  mirthful  mood 
at  t hat   moment,  but    I   hurst    into  a  lit  of 
laughing  at    this,  in  which,  from 
politeness,  the  party  all  joint  d. 

"  That's  it,  acushla  !"said  the  old  cook, 
as  her  eyes  sparkled  with  delight  ;  "sure  it 
makes  my  heart  light  to  sec  you  smilin' 
again.  Maybe  Darby  would  raise  a  tune 
now,  and  there's  nothing  equal  to  it  for  the 
spirits." 

"Yes,  Mr.  M'Keown,  said  the  house- 
maid, "play  'Kiss  me  twice.'  Master  Tom 
likes  it." 

"  Devil  a  doubt 'he  does."  replied  Darby, 
so  maliciously  as  to  make  poor  Kim  blush 
a  deep  scarlet,  "and  n<>  shame  to  him! 
But  you  see  my  fingers  is  cur.  Master  Tom, 
and  I  can't  perform  th<  reduplicating  into- 
nations with  proper  effect." 

"How  did  that  happen,  Darby  ?"  said 
the  butler. 

"Faix,  easy  enough.  Tim  Daly  and 
myself  was  hunting  a  cat  the  other  evening, 
and  she  was  under  the  dhresser,  and  we  wor 
poking  her  with  a  burnt  stick  and  a  rayping- 
hook,  and  she  somehow  always  escaped  us. 
and  except  about  an  inch  of  her  tail  that 
wTe  cutoff,  there  was  no  getting  at  her; 
and  at  last  I  hated  a  toastin'-fork  and  put 
it  in,  when  cut  she  flew,  teeth  and  claws,  at 
me.  Look,  there's  where  she  stuck  her 
thieving  nails  into  my  thumb,  and  took  the 
piece  clean  out.     The  onnatural  baste  !  " 

"Arrah!"  said  the  old  cook,  with  a 
most  reflective  gravity,  "there's  nothing  so 
treacherous  as  a  cat!"  Amoral  to  the 
story  which  I  found  met  general  assent 
among  the  whole  company. 

"Nevertheless,"  observed  Darby,  with  an 
air  of  ill-dissembled  condescension,  "if  it 
isn't  umbrageous  to  your  honor.  I'll  intonate 
something  in  the  way  of  an  ode,  or  a 
canticle." 

"One  of  your  own.  Darby,"  said  the 
butler,  interrupting. 

"  Well,  I've  no  objection."  replied  Darby, 
with  an  affected  modesty  ;  "  for  you  see, 
master,  like  Homer,  I  accompany  myself  on 
the  pipes,  though — glory  be  to  God  ! — I'm 
not  blind.  The  little  thing  I'll  give  you  is 
imitated  from  the  ancients— like  Tibullus 
or  Euthropeus — in  the  natural  key." 

Mister  M'Keown,  after  this  announce- 
ment, pushed  his  empty  tumbler  toward 
the  butler  with  a  significant  glance,  gave  a 
few  preparatory  grunts  with  the  pipes,  fol- 
lowed by  a  long  dolorous  quaver,  and  then 
a  still  more  melancholy  cadence,  like  the 
expiring  bray  of  an  asthmatic  jackass — all 


240 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


of  which  sounds,  scorning  to  bo  the  essential 
preliminaries  to  any  performance  on  the 
bagpipes,  were  listened  to  with  great  atten- 
tion by  the  company.  At  length,  having 
assumed  an  imposing  attitude,  lie  lifted  up 
both  elbows,  tilted  his  little  finger  affect- 
edly up,  dilated  his  cheeks,  and  began  the 
following  to  the  well-known  air  of  "Una:'' 

MUSIC. 

Of  all  the  arts  and  sciences, 

'Tis  music  surely  takes  the  sway; 
It  has  its  own  appliances 
To  melt  the  heart,  or  make  it  gay. 

To  raise  us, 

Or  plaze  us, 
There's  nothing  with  it  can  compare; 

To  make  us  bowld, 

Or  hot,  or  cowld, 
Just  as  suits  the  kind  of  air. 

There's  not  a  woman,  man,  or  child, 
That  hasn't  felt  its  power  too: 

Don't  deny  it! — when  you  smiled 
Your  eyes  confess'd — that  so  did  you. 

The  very  winds  that  sigh  or  roar — 

The  leaves  that  rustle,  dry  and  sear — 
The  waves  that  beat  upon  the  shore — 
They  all  are  music  to  your  ear. 

It  was  of  use 

To  Orpheus, 
He  charmed  the  fishes  in  the  say; 

So  everything 

Alive  can  sing — 
The  kettle  even  sings  for  tay  I 

There's  not  a  woman,  man,  nor  child, 
That  hasn't  felt  its  power  too; 

Don't  deny  it! — when  you  smiled 

Your  eyes  confess'd — that  so  did  you. 

I  have  certainly,  since  this  period,  lis- 
tened to  more  brilliant  musical  perform- 
ances, but,  for  the  extent  of  the  audience, 
I  do  not  think  it  was  possible  to  reap  a 
more  overwhelming  harvest  of  applause. 
Indeed  the  old  cook  kept  repeating  stray 
fragments  of  the  words  to  every  air  that 
crossed  her  memory  for  the  rest  of  the 
evening  ;  and  as  for  Kitty,  I  intercepted 
more  than  one  soft  glance  intended  for  Mr. 
M'Keown  as  a  reward  for  his  minstrelsy. 

Darby,  to  do  him  justice,  seemed  fully 
sensible  of  his  triumph,  and  sat  back  in 
his  chair,  and  imbibed  his  liquor  like  a 
man  who  had  won  his  laurels,  and  needed 
no  further  efforts  to  maintain  his  eminent 
position  in  life. 

As  the  wintry  wind  moaned  dismally 
without,  and  *the  leafless  trees  shook  and 
trembled  with  the  cold  blast,  the  party 
drew  in  closer  to  the  cheerful  turf  fire,  with 
that  sense  of  selfish  delight  that  seems  to 
revel  in  the  contrast  of  in-door  comfort 
with  the  bleakness  and  dreariness  without. 

"Well,  Darby,"  said  the  butler,  "you 


I  ought  to 


weren't  far  wrong  when  you  took  my  advice 
to  stay  here  for  the  night ;  listen  to  how 
its  blowing." 

"That's  hail,"  said  the  old  cook,  as  the 
big  drops  came  paltering  down  the  chim- 
ney, and  hissed  on  the  red  embers  as  they 
fell.  "  It's  a  cruel  night,  glory  be  to  God." 
Here  the  old  lady  blessed  herself — a  cere- 
mony which  the  others  followed 

"For  all  that,"  said  Darby,  " 
be    up    at    Crocknavorrigha   this    blessed 
evening.     Joe  Nealc  was  to  be  married  to- 
day." 

"Joe  !  is  it  Joe  !  "  said  the  butler. 

"  I  wish  her  luck  of  him,  whoever  she 
is,"  added  the  cook. 

"Faix,  and  he's  a  smart  boy,"  chimed  in 
the  housemaid,  with  something  not  far 
from  a  blush  as  she  spoke. 

"  He  was  a  raal  devil  for  coortin',  any 
how,"  said  the  butler. 

"  It's  just  for  peace  he's  marrying  now, 
then,"  said  Darby  ;  "the  women  never  gave 
him  any  quietness — just  so  Kitty,  you 
needn't  be  looking  cross  that  way — it's 
truth  I'm  telling  you ;  they  were  always 
coming  about  him,  and  teazing  him,  and 
the  like,  and  he  couldn't  bear  it  any  long- 
er. " 

"  Arrah,  howld  your  prate,"  interrupted 
the  old  cook,  whose  indignation  for  the  honor 
of  the  sex  could  not  endure  more;  "he's 
the  biggest  liar  from  this  to  himself — and 
that  same's  not  a  small  word,  Darby 
M'Keown." 

There  was  a  pointedness  in  the  latter 
part  of  this  speech  which  might  have  led 
to  angry  consequences,  had  I  not  inter- 
posed, by  asking  Mr.  M'Keown  himself  if 
lie  ever  was  in  love. 

"  Arrah,  it's  wishing  it,  I  am,  the  same 
love.  Sure  my  back  and  sides  is  sore  with 
it — my  misfortunes  would  fill  a  book. 
Didn't  I  bind  myself  apprentice  to  a  car- 
penter, for  love  of  Molly  Scraw,  a  niece  he 
had,  just  to  be  near  her,  and  be  looking  at 
her,  and  that's  the  way  I  shaved  off  the  top 
of  my  thumb  with  the  plane.  By  the  mor- 
tial,  it  was  near  killing  me  ;  I  usedn't  to 
eat  or  drink  ;  and  though  I  was  three  years 
at  the  thrade,  faix,  at  the  end  of  it,  I 
couldn't  tell  you  the  gimlet  from  the  hand- 
saw." 

"And  you  wor  never  married,  Mister 
M'Keown  ?"  said  Kitty. 

"Never,  my  darling,  but  often  mighty 
near  it.  Many's  the  quare  thing  happened 
tome,"  said  Darby,  meditatingly  ;  "and 
sure  if  it  wasn't  my  guardian  angel,  or 
something  of  the  kind  prevented  it,  I'd 
maybe  have  more  wives  this  day  than  the 
Emperor  of  Roossia  himself." 


V^J^lA^Wp*^ 


"come  along  quick,"  said  darry,  with  a  look  of  terror,  "  she's  going  to  curse. 

you."    (p.  247.) 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


241 


"  Arrah,  don't  bo  talking,"  grunted  out 
the  old  cook,  whose  passion  could  scarcely 
be  restrained  at  the  hoastful  tone  Mister 
M'Keown  assumed  in  descanting  on  his 
successes. 

"There  was  Biddy  Finn,"  continued 
Darby,  without  paying  any  attention  to  the 
cook's,  interruption  $  "she  might  be  Mrs. 
M'Keown  this  day,  av  it  wasn't  for  a  re- 
markable thing  that  happened." 

"What  was  that?"  said  Kitty,  with 
eager  curiosity. 

"Tell  us  about  it,  Mister  M'Keown," 
said  the  butler. 

"The  devil  a  word  of  truth  he'll  tell 
you,"  grumbled  the  cook,  as  she  raked  the 
ashes  with  a  stick. 

"There's  them  here  does  not  care  for 
agreeable  intercoorse,"  said  Darby,  assum- 
ing a  grand  air. 

"  Come,  Darby,  I'd  like  to  hear  the 
story,"  said  I. 

After  a  few  preparatory  scruples,  in 
which  modesty,  offended  dignity,  and  con- 
scious merit  struggled,  Mr.  M'Keown  be- 
gan by  informing  us  that  he  had  once  a 
most  ardent  attachment  to  a  certain  Biddy 
Finn,  of  Ballyclough,  a  lady  of  consider- 
able personal  attractions,  to  whom,  for  a 
long  time,  he  had  been  constant,  and  at 
last,  through  the  intervention  of  Father 
Curtin,  agreed  to  marry.  Darby's  consent 
to  the  arrangements  was  not  altogether  the 
result  of  his  reverence's  eloquence,  nor  in- 
deed the  justice  of  the  case — nor  was  it 
quite  owing  to  Biddy's  black  eyes  and  pret- 
ty lips — but  rather  to  the  soul-persuading 
powers  of  some  fourteen  tumblers  of  strong 
punch,  which  he  swallowed  at  a  seance  in 
Biddy's  father's  house,  one  cold  evening  in 
November  ;  after  which  he  »betook  himself 
to  the  road  homeward,  where  —  But  we 
must  give  his  story  in  his  own  words  : 

"  Whether  it  was  the  prospect  of  hap- 
piness before  me,  or  the  potteen,"  quoth 
Darby,  "but  so  it  was,  I  never  felt  a  step 
of  the  road  home  that  night,  though  it 
was  every  foot  of  five  mile.  When  I  came 
to  a  stile.  I  used  to  give  a  whoop,  and  over 
it ;  then  I'd  run  for  a  hundred  yards  or 
two,  flourish  my  stick,  cry  out,  '  Who'll 
say  a  word  against  Biddy  Finn  ?  '  and  then 
over  another  fence,  flying.  Well,  I  reached 
home  at  last,  and  wet  enough  I  was,  but  I 
didn't  care  for  that.  I  opened  the  door  and 
struck  a  light— there  was  the  least  taste  of 
kindling  on  the  hearth,  and  I  put  some 
dry  sticks  into  it,  and  some  turf,  and 
knelt  down  and  began  blowing  it  up. 

"'Troth,'  says  I  to  myself,  'if  I  wor 
married,  it  isn't  this  way  I'd  be — on  my 
knees  like  a  nagur ;  but  when  I'd  come 
vol.  i. — 16 


home,  there  'ud  be  a  fine  fire  blazin'  fornint 
me,  and  a  clean  table  oul  before  it.  and  a 
beautiful  cup  of  fcay  waiting  for  me — and 
Bomebody  I  won't  mintion,  Bitting  there, 
Lookin'  at   me,  BmilinV 

"'Don't  be  making  a  fool  of  yourself, 
Darby  M'Keown,'  said  a  gruff  vx>ice  neat 
the  chimney. 

"  I  jumped  at  him,  and  •  cried  out, 
'Who's  thai  ?'  but  there  was  no  answer; 
and  at  last,  after  going  round  the  kitch- 
en, I  began  to  think  it  was  only  my  own 
voice  I  heard,  so  I  knell  down  again,  and 
set  to  blowing  away  at  the  fire. 

'  "  '  And  it's  yerself,  Biddy,'  says  I,  '  that 
would  be  an  ornament  to  a  dacent  cabin  ; 
and  a  pnrtier  leg  and  foot — 

"  '  Be  the  light  that  shines,  you're  mak- 
ing me  sick,  Darby  M'Keown,'  said  the 
voice  again. 

"'The  heavens  be  about  us!'  says  1. 
'what's  that,  and  who  are  you  at  all  ?'  for 
someways  I  thought  I  knew  the  voice. 

"  '  I'm  your  father  ! '  says  the  voice. 

"  'My  father  ! '  says  I.  "  '  Holy  Joseph, 
is  it  truth  you're  telling  me  ?  ' 

"  '  The  divil  a  word  o'  lie  in  it,'  says  the 
voice.  'Take  me  down  and  give  me  an  air 
o'  the  fire,  for  the  night's  cowld.' 

"'And  where  are  you,  father,' says  I, 
'  av  it's  plasing  to  ye  ?  ' 

"  '  I'm  on  the  dhresser,"  says  he.  '  Don't 
you  see  me  ? ' 

"  '  Sorra  bit  o'  me.     Where  now  ? ' 

"  'Arrah,  on  the  second  shelf,  next  the 
rowling-pin.  Don't  you  see  the  green 
jug  ? — that's  me.' 

saints  in  heaven  be  about 
and  are  you  a  green  jug  ?  ' 
am,'  snyshe;  'and  sure  1  might  be 
worse.  Tim  Healey's  mother  is  only  a 
cullender,  and  she  died  two  years  before 
me.' 

"  '  Oh,  father  darlin','  says  I,  '  I  hoped 
you  wor  in  glory,  and  you  only  a  jug  all 
this  time  ! ' 

"  'Never  fret  about  it,'  says  my  father  ; 
'  it's  the  transmogrification  of  sowls,  and 
we'll  be  right  by-and-by.  Take  me  down, 
I  say,  and  put  me  near  the  fire.' 

"  So  I  up  and  took  him  down,  and  wiped 
him  with  a  clean  cloth,  and  put  him  on 
the  hearth  before  the  blaze. 

"'Darby,'  says  he,  'I'm  famished  with 
the  druth.  Since  you  took  to  coortin' 
there's  nothing  ever  goes  into  my  mouth — 
haven't  you  a  taste  of  something  in  the 
house  ? ' 

"I  wasn't  long  till  I  hated  some  wather, 
and  took  down  the  bottle  of  whisky  and 
some  sugar,  and  made  a  rousing  jugful,  at 
strong  as  need  be. 


Oh,  the 
us  ! '  says  I ; 
'"I 


242 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


"  'Arc  you  satisfied,  father  ?'  says  I. 

"'I  am,'  says  ho,  'you're  a  dutiful 
child  ;  and  heres  your  health,  and  don't  be 
thinking  of  Biddy  Finn.' 

"  With  that  im  father  began  to  explain 
how  there  was  never  any  rest  nor  quietness 
for  a  man  after  he  married — more  6e 
token,  if  his  wife  was  fond  of  talking  ; 
and  that  ho* never  could  take  his  dhrop  of 
drink  in  comfort  afterward. 

"  '  May  I  never,"  says  he,  '  but  I'd  rather 
be  a  green  jug,  as  I  am  now,  than  alive 
again  wid  your  mother.  Sure  it's  not  here 
you'd  be  sitting  to-night,' says  he,  '  dis- 
coorsing  with  me,  av  you  wor  married,  devil 
a  bit.  Fill  me,'  says  my  father,  '  and  I'll 
tell  you  more.' 

"  And  sure  enough  I  did,  and  we  talked 
away  till  near  daylight ;  and  then  the  first 
thing  I  did  was  to  take  the  ould  mare 
out  of  the  stable,  and  set  off  to  Father 
Curtin,  and  towld  him  all  about  it,  and 
how  my  father  wouldn't  give  his  consent 
by  no  means. 

"'We'll  not  mind  the  marriage,'  says 
his  rivirence  ;  '  but  go  back  and  bring  me 
your  father — the  jug,  I  mean — and  we'll 
try  and  get  him  out  of  trouble— for  it's 
trouble  he's  in,  or  he  wouldn't  be  that  way. 
Give  me  the  two-pound-ten,'  says  the 
priest:  'you 'had  it  for  the  wedding,  and 
it  will  be  better  spent  getting  your  father 
out  of  purgatory,  than  sending  you  into 
it.'" 

"Arrah,  aren't  you  ashamed  of  your- 
self ?  "  cried  the  cook,  with  a  look  of  in- 
effable scorn,  as  he  concluded. 

"Look  now,"' said  Darby,  "see  this — 
if  it  isn't  thruth — " 

"  And  what  became  of  your  father  ?  " 
interrupted  the  butler. 

"And  Biddy  Finn,  what  did  she  do  ?" 
said  the  housemaid. 

Darby,  however,  vouchsafed  no  reply, 
but  sat  back  in  his  chair  with  an  offended 
look,  and  sipped  his  liquor  in  silence. 

A  fresh  brew  of  punch  under  the  but- 
ler's auspices  speedily,  however,  dispelled 
the  cloud  that  hovered  over  the  conviviality 
of  the  party  ;  and  even  the  cook  vouch- 
safed to  assist  in  the  preparation  of  some 
rashers,  which  Darby  suggested  "were 
beautiful  things  for  the  "thirst  at  this 
hour  of  the  night  "—but  whether  in  allay- 
ing or  exciting  it,  he  didn't  exactly  lay 
down.  The  conversation  now  became  gen- 
eral ;  and  as  they  seemed  resolved  to  con- 
tinue their  festivities  to  a  late  hour,  I  took 
the  first  opportunity  I  could,  when  unob- 
served, to  steal  away  and  return  to  my  own 
room. 

No  sooner  alone  again   than  all  the  sor- 


row of  my  lonely  state  came  back  upon 
me;  and  as  I  laid  my  head  on  my  pillow, 
the  full  measure  of  my  misery  flowed  in 
upon  my  heart,  and  I  sobbed  myself  to 
sleep. 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE  DEPARTURE. 


The  violent  beating  of  the  rain  against 
the  glass,  and  the  loud  crash  of  the  storm 
as  it  shook  the  window  frames,  or  snapped 
the  sturdy  branches  of  the  old  trees,  awoke 
me.  I  got  up,  and,  opening  the  shutters, 
endeavored  to  look  out  ;  but  the  darkness 
was  impenetrable,  and  I  could  see  nothing 
but  the  gnarled  and  grotesque  forms  of  the 
leafless  trees  dimly  marked  against  the  sky, 
as  they  moved  to  and  fro  like  the  arms  of 
some  mighty  giant — masses  of  heavy  snow 
melted  by  the  rain  fell  at  intervals  from  the 
steep  roof,  and  struck  the  ground  beneath 
with  a  low  sumph  like  thunder — a  grayish, 
leaden  tinge  that  marked  the  horizon 
showed  it  was  near  daybreak  ;  but  there 
was  nought  of  promise  in  this  harbinger  of 
morning.  Like  my  own  career,  it  opened 
gloomily,  and  in  sadness  ;  so  felt  I  at  least; 
and  as  I  sat  beside  the  window,  and 
strained  my  eyes  to  pierce  the  darkening 
storm,  I  thought  that  even  watching  the 
wild  hurricane  without  was  better  than 
brooding  over  the  sorrows  within  my  own 
bosom. 

How  long  I  remained  thus  I  knew  not ; 
but  already  the  faint  streak  that  announces 
sunrise  marked  the  dull-colored  sky,  when 
the  cheerful  sounds  of  a  voice  singing  in 
the  room  underneath  attracted  me.  I  lis- 
tened, and  in  a  moment  recognized  the 
piper,  Darby  M'Keown.  He  moved  quick- 
ly about,  and  by  his  motions  I  could  collect 
that  he  -was  making  preparations  for  his 
journey. 

If  I  could  venture  to  pronounce,  from 
the  merry  tones  of  his  voice  and  the  light 
elastic  step  with  which  he  trod  the  floor,  I 
certainly  would  not  suppose  that  the  dreary 
weather  had  any  terror  for  him.  He  spoke 
so  loud  that  I  could  catch  a  great  deal  of 
the  dialogue  he  maintained  with  himself, 
and  some  odd  verses  of  the  song  with  which 
from  time  to  time  he  garnished  his  reflec- 
tions. 

"  Marry,  indeed  ! — catch  me  at  it— na- 
bocklish — with  the  country  side  before  me, 
and  the  hoith  of  good  eating  and  drinking 
for  a  blast  of  the  chauntre.  Well,  well, 
women's  quare  craytures  anyway. 


TOM  lirilKE  OF  "OUBS.' 


24:3 


Ho,  ho!  Mister  Barney, 

No  more  of  your  blarney, 

I'd  have  you  not  make  so  free; 
You  "may  go  where  you  plaze, 
And  make  love  at  your  ea  e, 

But  tht:  devil  may  have  you  tor  me, 

Very  well,  Ma'am — Mister  M'Keown  is  your 
most  obedient — never  say  it  twice,  honey — 
and  isn't  there  as  good  fish,  eh  ? — whoop  ! 

Oh !  my  heart  is  unazy, 

My  brain  is  run  crazy. 
Sure  it's  often  I  wish  I  was  dead; 

Tis  your  smile  now  so  sweet, 

Now  your  ankles  and  feet, 
That's  walked  into  my  heart,  Molly  Spread. 

Tol  de  rol,  de  rol,  oh! 

Whew!  that's  rain,  anyhow.  I  wouldn't 
mind  it,  bad  as  it  is,  if  I  hadn't  the  side  of 
a  mountain  before  me  ;  but  sure  it  comes 
to  the  same  in  the  ind.  Catty  Delany  is  a 
good  warrant  for  a  pleasant  evening,  and 
please  God  I'll  be  playing  '  Baltiorum  '  be- 
side the  fire  there  before  this  time  to-night. 

She'd  a  pig  and  boneens, 

And  a  bed  and  a  dresser, 
And  a  nate  little  room, 
For  the  father  confessor, 
With  a  cupboard  and  curtains,  and  something,  I'm 

towld, 
That   his   riv'rance  liked,  when   the  weather  was 
cowld. 
And  its  hurroo,  hurroo!  Biddy  O'Rafferty. 

After  all,  faix,  the  priest  bates  us  ont. 
There's  eight  o'clock  now,  and  I'm  not  off 
— devil  a  one's  stirring  in  the  house  either. 
Well,  I  believe  I  may  take  my  leave  of  it — 
sorrow  many  tunes  of  the  pipes  it's  likely 
to  hear,  with  Tony  Basset  over  it  ;  and  my 
heart's  low  when  I  think  of  that  child 
there.  Poor  Tom!  and  it  Was  you  liked 
fun  when  you  could  have  it." 

1  wanted  but  the  compassionate  tone  in 
which  these  few  words  were  spoken  to  de- 
cide me  in  a  resolution 'that  I  had  been  for 
some  time  pondering  over.  I  knew  that 
ere  many  hours  Basset  would  come  in  search 
of  me — I  felt  that,  "once  in  his  power,  I  had 
nothing  to  expect  but  the  long-promised 
payment  of  his  old  debt  of  hatred  to  me. 
In  a  few  seconds  I  ran  over  with  myself  the 
prospect  of  misery  before  me,  and  deter- 
mined at  once,  at  every  hazard,  to  make 
my  escape.  Darby  seemed  to  afford  me  the 
best  possible  opportunity  for  this  purpose, 
and  I  dressed  myself,  therefore,  in  the 
greatest  haste,  and,  throwing  whatever  I 
could  find  of  my  wardrobe  into  my  carpet- 
bag, I  pocketed  my  little  purse,  with  all  un- 
worldly wealth — -some  twelve  or  thirteen 
shillings — and  noiselessly  slipped  down  stairs 
to  the  room  beneath.     I  reached  the  door 


at  the  \ery  moment  Darby  opened  it  to  is- 
.,i-!  li.     Ee  Btarted  back  with  fear,  and 
crossed  himself  twice 

••  I  ton't   be  afraid,   Darby,'"  said   I.  nn- 
le-i    he  should  make  any  noise  that 
would  alarm  the  others;  "  I  wan!  to  know 
which  road   you  an-  traveling  thie  morn- 
ing." 

••  The  saints  be  about  as,  but  yon  fright- 
ened ni",   .Mater  Tommy     though,  iu 
mediately,  I  may  obsarve,  I'm  by  no  ••• 
1  imorous.     I'm  going  u  it  bin  two  miles  of 

Athlone." 

"That's  exactly  where  I  want  b 
Darby  ;  will  yon  take  me  with  you?"  for 
at  the  instant  Captain  Bubbleton'e  address 
flashed  on  my  mind,  and  I  resolved  to  3eek 
him  out  and  ask  his  advice  in  my  difficul- 
ties. 

"I  see  it  all,"  replied  Darby,  as  he 
placed  the  tip  of  his  finger  on  his  n 
•'I  conceive  your  embarrassments — you're 
afraid  of  Basset,  and  small  blame  to  you  ; 
but  don't  do  it,  Master  Tommy,  don't  do 
it,  alannah  :  that's  the  hardest  lire  at  all." 

-'What  ?"  said  1%  in  amazement. 

"To  list :  sure  I  know  what  you  are  af- 
ter ;  faix,  it  would  sarve  you  better  to  larn 
the  pipes." 

I  hastened  to  assure  Darby  of  his  error, 
and  in  a  few  words  informed  him  of  what 
I  had  overheard  of  Basset's  intentions  re- 
specting me. 

"Make  you  an  attorney!"  said  Darby, 
interrupting  me  abruptly — "an  attorney! 
There's  nothing  so  mean  as  an  attorney  ; 
the  police  is  gentlemen  compared  to  them 
— they  fight  it  out  fair  like  men  ;  bur  the 
other'  chaps  sit  in  a  house  planning  and 
contriving  mischief  all  day  long,  inventing 
every  kind  of  wickedness,  and  then  getting 
people  to  do 'it.  See,  now,  I  believe  in  my 
conscience  the  devil  was  the  first  attorney, 
and  it  was  just  to  serve  his  own  ends  that 
he  bred  a  ruction  between  Adam  and  Eve. 
But  whisht !  there's  somebody  stirring.  Are 
you  for  the  road  ?  " 

"Yes,  Darby  ;  my  mind's  made  up." 

Indeed,  his' own  elegant  eulogium  on 
legal  pursuits  assisted  my  resolution,  and 
filled  my  heart  with  renewed  disgust  at  the 
thought  of  such  a  guardian  as  Tony  Basset. 

We  walked  stealthily  along  the  gloomy 
passages,  traversed  the  old  hall,  and  noise- 
lessly" with  drew  the  heavy  bolts  and  the 
great  chain  that  fastened  the  door.  The 
rain  was  sweeping  along  the  ground  in  tor- 
rents, and  the  wind  dashed  it  against  the 
window-panes  in  .  fitful  gusts.  It  rt 
all  our  strength  to  close  the  door  after  us 
against  the  storm,  and  it  was  only  after 
several  trials  that  we  succeeded  in   doing 


#44 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


so.  The  hollow  sound  of  the  oak  door 
smote  upon  my  heart  as  it  closed  behind 
me  ;  in  an  instant  the  sense  of  banishment 
— of  utter  destitution — was  present  to 
my  mind.  I  turned  my  eyes  to  gaze  upon 
the  old  house — to  take  my  last  farewell  of 
it  forever.  Gloomy  as  my  prospect  was, 
my  sorrow  was  less  for  the  sad  future  than 
for  the  misery  of  the  moment. 

"No,  Master  Tom — no,  you  must  go 
back,''  said  Darby,  who  watched  with  a 
tender  interest  the  sickly  paleness  of  my 
cheek,  and  the  tottering  uncertainty  of  my 
walk. 

"  No,  Darby,"  said  I,  with  an  effort  at 
firmness,  "1*11  not  look  round  anymore."' 
And  bending  my  head  against  the  storm,  I 
stepped  out  boldly  beside  my  companion. 
We  walked  on  without  speaking,  and  soon 
left  the  neglected  avenue  and  ruined  gate- 
lodge  behind  us,  as  we  reached  the  high 
road  that  led  to  Athlone. 

Darby,  who  only  waited  to  let  my  first 
burst  of  sorrow  find  its  natural  vent,  no 
sooner  perceived  from  my  step,  and  the  re- 
newed color  of  my  cheek,  that  I  had  rallied 
my  courage  once  more,  than  he  opened 
all  his  stores  of  agreeability,  which,  to  my 
inexperience  in  such  matters,  were  by  no 
means  inconsiderable.  Abandoning  at  once 
all  high-flown  phraseology — which  Mister 
M'Keown,  I  afterward  remarked,  only  re- 
tained as  a  kind  of  gala  suit  for  great  occa- 
sions— he  spoke  freely  and  naturally  ;  light- 
ening the  way  with  many  a  story — now 
grave,  now  gay — he  seemed  to  care  little 
for  the  inclemency  of  the  weather,  and 
looked  pleasantly  forward  to  a  happy  even- 
ing as  an  ample  reward  for  the  present 
hardship. 

"And  the  Captain,  Master  Tom,  you 
say  he's  an  agreeable  man  ?  "  said  Darby, 
alluding  to  my  late  companion  on  the 
coach,  whose  merits  I  was  never  tired  of 
recapitulating. 

"Oh,  delightful!  He  has  traveled 
everywhere,  and  seems  to  know  everybody 
and  everything.  He's  very  rich,  too — I 
forget  how  many  houses  he  has  in  England, 
and  elephants  without  number  in  India." 

"  Faix,  you  were  in  luck  to  fall  in  with 
him  !  "  observed  Darby. 

"Yes,  that  I  was  !  I'm  sure  he'll  do 
something  for  me  ;  and  for  you  too,  Darby, 
when  he  knows  you  have  been  so  kind  to 
me." 

"Me!  What  did  I  do,  darling?  and 
what  could  I  do,  a  poor  piper  like  me  ? 
Wouldn't  it  bo  honor  enough  for  me,  if  a 
gentleman's  son  would  travel  the  road  with 
me  ?  Darby  M'Keown's  a  proud  man  this 
day  to  have  you  beside  him." 


A  ruined  cabin  in  the  road,  whose  black- 
ened walls  and  charred  timbers  denoted  its 
fate,  here  attracted  my  companion's  atten- 
tion. He  stopped  for  a  second  or  two  to 
look  on  it,  and  then  kneeling  down,  he 
muttered  a  short  prayer  for  the  eternal  rest 
of  some  one  departed,  and  taking  up  a 
stone,  he  threw  it  on  a  heap  of  similar  ones 
which  lay  near  the  door  side. 

"What  happened  there,  Darby?"  said 
I,  as  he  resumed  his  way. 

"They  wor  out  in  the  thrubles,"  was 
his  only  reply,  as  he  cast  a  glance  behind, 
to  perceive  if  any  one  had  remarked  him. 

Though  he  made  no  further  allusion  to 
the  fate  of  those  who  once  inhabited  the 
cabin,  he  spoke  freely  of  his  own  share  in 
the  eventful  year  of  Ninety-eight ;  justify- 
ing, as  it  then  seemed  to  me,  every  step  of 
the  patriotic  party,  and  explaining  the  caus- 
es of  their  unsuccess  so  naturally  and  so 
clearly,  that  I  could  not  help  following 
with  interest  every  detail  of  his  narrative, 
and  joining  in  his  regrets  for  the  unex- 
pected and  adverse  strokes  fortune  dealt 
upon  them.  As  he  warmed  with  his  sub- 
ject, he  spoke  of  France  with  an  enthusi- 
asm that  I  soon  found  contagious  ;  he  told 
me  of  the  glorious  career  of  the  French  ar- 
mies in  Italy  and  Austria,  and  of  that  won- 
derful  man  of  whom  I  then  heard  for  the 
first  time,  as  spreading  a  halo  of  victory 
over  his  nation  ;  contrasting,  as  he  went  on, 
the  rewards  which  awaited  heroism  and 
bravery  in  that  service,  with  the  purchased 
promotion  in  ours,  artfully  illustrating  his 
position  by  a  reference  to  myself,  and  what 
my  fortunes  would  have  been  if  born  under 
that  happier  sky.  "No  elder  brother 
there,"  said  he,  "  to  live  in  affluence,  while 
the  younger  ones  arc  turned  out  to  wander 
on  the  wide  world,  houseless  and  penniless  ; 
and  all  these  things  we  might  have  done, 
had  we  been  but  true  to  ourselves." 

I  drank  in  all  he  said  with  avidity  ;  the 
bearing  of  his  arguments  on  my  own  for- 
tunes gave  them  an  interest  and  an  apparent 
truth  my  young  mind  eagerly  devoured ; 
and  when  he  ceased  to  speak,  I  pondered 
over  all  he  told  me  in  a  spirit  that  left  its 
impress  on  my  whole  future  life. 

It  was  a  new  notion  to  me  to  connect  my 
own  fortunes  with  anything  in  the  political 
condition  of  the  country,  and  wdiile  it  gave 
my  young  heart  a  kind  of  martyred  courage, 
it  set  my  brain  a-thinking  on  a  class  of 
subjects  which  never  before  possessed  any 
interest  for  me  ;  there  was  a  flattery,  too, 
in  the  thought  that  I  owed  my  straitened 
circumstances  less  to  any  demerits  of  my 
own,  than  to  political  disabilities.  The 
time  was  well  chosen  by  my  companion  to 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


245 


instill  his  doctrines  into  my  heart — I  was 
young,  ardent,  enthusiastic  —  my  own 
wrongs  had  taught  me  to.  hate  injustice 
and  oppression — my  condition  had  made 
me  feel,  and  feel  bitterly,  the  humiliation 
of  dependence ;  and  if  I  listened  with 
eager  curiosity  to  every  story  and  every 
incident  of  She  bygone  rebellion,  it  was 
because  the  contest  was  represented  to  me 
.as  one  between  tyranny  on  one  side  and 
struggling  liberty  on  the  other.  I  heard 
the  names  of  those  who  sided  with  the  in- 
surgent party  extolled  as  the  great  and  good 
men  of  their  country — their  ancient  fami- 
lies and  hereditary  claims  furnishing  a  con- 
trast ro  many  of  the  opposite  party,  whose 
recent  settlement  in  the  island  and  new- 
born aristocracy  were  held  up  in  scoff  and 
derision.  In  a  word,  I  learned  to  believe 
that  the  one  side  was  characterized  by 
cruelty,  oppression,  and  injustice,  the  other 
conspicuous  only  for  endurance,  courage, 
patriotism,  and  truth.  What  a  picture 
was  this  to  a  mind  like  mine  !  and  at  a 
moment,  too,  when  I  seemed  to  realize,  in 
my  own  desolation,  an  example  of  the  very 
sufferings  I  heard  of. 

If  the  portrait  M'Keown  drew  of  Ireland 
was  sad  and  gloomy,  he  painted  France  in 
colors  the  brightest  and  most  seductive. 
Dwelling  less  on  the  political  advantages 
which  the  revolution  had  won  for  the 
popular  party,  he  directed  my  entire  atten- 
tion to  the  brilliant  career  of  glory  the 
French  army  had  followed — the  triumph- 
ant success  of  the  Italian  campaign — the 
war  in  Germany,  and  the  splendor  of  Paris, 
which  he  represented  as  a  very  paradise  on 
-earth ;  but,  above  all,  he  dwelt  on  the 
character  and  achievements  of  the  First 
Consul,  recounting  many  anecdotes  of  his 
early  life,  from  the  period  when  he  was  a 
schoolboy  at  Brienne,  to  the  hour  when  he 
dictated  the  conditions  of  peace  to  the 
oldest  monarchies  of  Europe,  and  pro- 
claimed war  with  the  voice  of  one  who 
came  as  an  avenger. 

I  drank  in  every  word  he  spoke  with 
avidity — the  very  enthusiasm  of  his  manner 
was  contagious — I  felt  my  heart  bound 
with  rapturous  delight  at  some  hardy  deed 
of  soldier-like  daring,  and  conceived  a  kind 
of  wild  idolatry  for  the  man  who  seemed  to 
have  infused  his  own  glorious  tempera- 
ment into  the  mighty  thousands  around 
him,  and  converted  a  whole  nation  into 
heroes. 

Darby's  information  on  all  these  matters 
— which  seemed  to  me  something  miracu- 
lous— had  been  obtained  at  different  periods 
from  French  emissaries  who  were  scattered 
through  Ireland,  many  of  them  old  soldiers. 


who  had  served  in  the  campaigns  of  Egypt 
and  Italy. 

"But    sure,  if    you'd    come    with    me, 

Master  Tom,  1  could  bring  you  where  you'll 
see  them  yourself,  and  you  could  talk  to 
them  of  the  battle-  and  skirmishes,  for  I 
suppose  you  spake  French." 

"Very  little,  Darby.  How  sorry  I  am 
now  that   I  don't  know   it  well." 

"No  matter,  they'll  BOOB  teach  you,  and 
many  a  thing  beside.  There's  a  captain  I 
know  of,  not  far  from  where  we  are  this 
minute,  could  learn  you  the  -mall  sword — 
in  style,  he  could.  I  wish  you  saw  him  in 
his  green  uniform  with  white  facings,  and 
three  elegant  crosses  upon  it  that  General 
Bonaparte  gave  him  with  his  own  hand-  : 
he  had  them  on  one  Sunday,  and  I  never 
see'd  anything  ecpial  to  it." 

"  And  are  there  many  French  officers 
hereabouts  ?  " 

"  Not  now  ;  no,  they're  almost  all  gone. 
After  the  rising  they  went  back  to  France, 
except  a  few.  Well,  there'll  be  call  for 
them  again,  please  God." 

"  W_ ill  there  be  another  rebellion,  then. 
Darby?" 

As  I  put  this  question  fearlessly,  and  in 
a  voice  loud  enough  to  be  heard  at  some 
distance,  a  horseman,  wrapped  up  in  a 
loose  cloth  cloak,  was  passing  ;  he  suddenly 
pulled  up  short,  and  turning  his  horse 
round,  stood  exactly  opposite  to  the  piper. 

Darby  saluted  the  stranger  respectfully, 
and  seemed  desirous  to  pass  on,  but  the 
other,  turning  round  in  his  saddle,  fixed  a 
stern  look  on  him,  and  he  cried  out, 

"  What !  at  the  old  trade,  M'Keown.  Is 
there  no  curing  you,  eh  ?  " 

"Just  so,  Major,"  said  Darby,  assuming 
a  tone  of  voice  he  had  not  made  use  of  the 
entire  morning ;  "  I'm  conveying  a  little 
instrumental  recreation. " 

"None  of  your  d — d  gibberish  with  me. 
Who's  that  with  you  ?" 

"  He's  a  son  of  a  neighbor  of  mine,  your 
honor,"  said  Darby,  with  an  imploring 
look  at  me  not  to  betray  him.  "  His  fa- 
ther's a  schoolmaster — a  philomath,  as  one 
might  say." 

I  was  about  to  contradict  this  statement 
bluntly,  when  the  stranger  called  out  to 
me, 

"  Mark  me,  young  sir,  you're  not  in  the 
best  of  company  this  morning,  and  I  re- 
commend you  to  part  with  your  friend  as 
soon  as  may  be.  And  you,"  said  he,  turn- 
ing to  Darby,  "let  me  see  you  in  Athlone 
at  ten  o'clock  to-morrow.    D'ye  hear  me  ?  " 

The  piper  grew  pale  as  death  as  he  heard 
this  command,  to  which  he  only  responded 
by  touching  his  hat  in  silence  ;  while  the 


246 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


horseman,  drawing  his  cloak  around, 
dashed  his  spurs  into  his  beast's  Hanks,  and 
was  soon  out  of  sight.  Darby  stood  for  a 
moment  or  two,  looking  down  the  road 
where  the  stranger  had  disappeared;  a 
livid  hue  colored  Ids  check,  and  a  tremu- 
lous quivering  of  his  under  lip  gave  him 
the  appearance  of  one  in  ague. 

"I'll  he  even  with  ye  yet,"'  muttered  he 
between  his  clenched  teeth;  "and  when 
the  hour  comes — " 

Here  he  repeated  some  words  in  Irish 
with  a  vehemence  of  manner  that  actually 
made  my  blood  tingle ;  then  suddenly  re- 
covering himself,he  assumed  a  kind  of  sick- 
ly smile.    "  That's  a  hard  man,  the  Major." 

"  I'm  thinking,"  said  Darby,  after  a 
pause  of  some  minutes — I'm  thinking  it's 
better  for  you  not  to  go  into  Athlone  with 
me  ;  for  if  Basset  wishes  to  track  you  out, 
that'll  be  the  first  place  he'll  try  ;  besides, 
now  that  the  Major  has  seen  you,  he'll 
never  forget  yon." 

Having  pledged  myself  to  adopt  any 
course  my  companion  recommended,  he 
resumed  : 

"Ay,  that's  the  best  wray.  I'll  lave  you 
at  Ned  Malone's  in  the  Glen  ;  and  when 
I've  done  with  the  Major  in  the  morning, 
I'll  look  after  your  friend  the  Captain,  and 
tell  him  where  you  are." 

"I  readily  assented  to  this  arrangement, 
and  only  asked  what  distance  it  might  yet 
be  to  Ned  Malone's,  for  already  I  began  to 
feel  fatigue. 

"A  good  ten  miles,"  said  Darby,  "no 
less ;  but  we'll  stop  here  above,  and  get 
something  to  eat,  and  then  we'll  take  a 
rest  for  an  hour  or  two,  and  you'll  think 
nothing  of  the  road  after." 

I  stepped  out  with  increased  energy  at 
the  cheering  prospect ;  and  although  the 
violence  of  the  weather  was  nothing 
abated,  I  consoled  myself  with  thinking  of 
the  rest  and  refreshment  before  me,  and 
resolved  not  to  bestow  a  thought  upon  the 
present.  Darby,  on  the  other  hand,  seemed 
more  depressed  than  before,  and  betrayed 
in  many  ways  a  state  of  doubt  and  uncer- 
tainty as  to  his  movements — sometimes 
pushing  on  rapidly  for  half  a  mile  or  so, 
then  relapsing  into  a  slow  and  plodding 
pace,  often  looking  back,  too,  and  more 
than  once  coming  to  a  perfect  stand-still, 
talking  the  whole  time  to  himself  in  a  low, 
muttering  voice. 

In  this  way  we  proceeded  for  above  two 
miles,  when  at  last  I  descried  through  the 
beating  rain  the  dusky  gable  of  a"  small 
cabin  in  the  distance,  ami  eagerly  asked  if 
that  were  to  be  our  halting-place. 

"Yes,"  said  Darby,  "that's  Peg's  cabin  ; 


and  though  it's  not  very  remarkable  in  the 
way  of  cookery  or  the  like,  it's  the  only 
house  within  seven  miles  of  ns." 

As  we  came  nearer,  the  aspect  of  the 
building  became  even  less  enticing.  It  was 
alow  mud  hovel,  with  a  miserable  roof  of 
sods,  or  scraws,  as  they  arc  technically 
called  ;  a  wretched  attempt  at  a  chimney 
occupying  the  gable,  and  the  front  to  the 
road  containing  a  small  square  aperture, 
with  a  single  pane  of  glass  as  a  window,' 
and  a  wicker  contrivance  in  the  shape  of 
a  door,  which,  notwithstanding  the  severity 
of  the  day,  lay  wide  open  to  permit  the 
exit  of  the  smoke,  which  rolled  more  freely 
through  this  than  through  the  chimney. 
A  filthy  pool  of  stagnant,  green-covered 
wafer  stood  before  the  door,  through  which 
a  little  causeway  of  earth  led.  Upon  this 
a  thin,  lank-sided  sow  was  standing  to  be 
rained  on,  her  long,  pointed  snout  turned 
meditatively  toward  the  luscious  mud  be- 
side her.  Displacing  this  important  mem- 
ber of  the  family  with  an  unceremonious 
kick.  Darby  stooped  to  enter  the  low  door- 
way, uttering  as  he  did  so  the  customary 
"  God  save  all  here  !"  As  I  followed  him 
in,  I  did  not  catch  the  usual  response  to 
the  greeting,  and,  from  the  thick  smoke 
which  filled  the  cabin,  could  see  nothing 
whatever  around  me. 

"Well,  Peg,"  said  Darby,  "how  is  it 
with  you  the  day  ?" 

A  low  grunting  noise  issued  from  the 
foot  of  a  little  mud  wall  beside  the  fire- 
place. I  turned  and  beheld  the  figure  of  a 
woman  of  some  seventy  years  of  age, 
seated  beside  the  turf  embers;  her  dark 
eyes,  bleared  with  smoke  and  dimmed  with 
age,  were  still  sharp  and  piercing,  and  her 
nose,  thin  and  aquiline,  indicated  a  class 
of  features  by  no  means  common  among 
the  people.  Her  dress  was  the  blue  frieze 
coat  of  a  laboring  man,  over  the  woolen 
gown  usually  worn  by  women.  Her  feet 
and  legs  were  bare,  and  her  head  was  cov- 
ered with  an  old  straw  bonnet,  whose  faded 
ribbon  and  tarnished  finery  betokened  its 
having  once  belonged  to  some  richer  owner. 
There  was  no  vestige  of  any  furniture — 
neither  table,  nor  chair,  nor  dresser,  nor 
even  a  bed,  unless  some  straw  laid  against 
the  wall  in  one  corner  could  be  thus  called  ; 
a  pot  suspended  over  the  wet  and  sodden 
turf  by  a  piece  of  hay  rope,  and  an  earthen 
pipkin  with  water  stood  beside  her.  The 
floor  of  the  hovel,  lower  in  many  places 
than  the  road  without,  was  cut  up  into 
sloppy  mud  by  the  tread  of  the  sow,  who 
ranged  at  will  through  the  premises.  In  a 
word,  more  dire  and  wretched  poverty  it 
was  impossible  to  conceive. 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


247 


Darby's  first  movement  was  to  take  off 
the  lid  and  peer  into  the  pot,  when  the 
bubbling  sound  of  the  boiling  potatoes 
assured  Imn  that  we  should  have  at  leaal 
something  to  eat  ;  his  next  was.  to  turn  a 
little  basket  upside  down  for  a  seat,  to 
which  he  motioned  me  with  his  hand  ; 
then,  approaching  'the  old  woman,  lie 
placed  his  hand  to  his  mouth  and  <houted 
in  her  ear, 

"  What's  the  major  after  this  morning, 
Peg?" 

8he  shook  her  head  gloomily  a  couple 
of  times,  but  gave  no  answer. 

"I'm  thinking  there's  had  work  going 
on  at  the  town  there,"  cried  lie,  in  the 
same  loud  tone  as  before. 

Peg  muttered  something  in  Irish,  but 
far  too  low  to  be  audible. 

"  Is  she  mad,  poor  thing  ?"  said  I,  in  a 
whisper. 

The  words  were  not  well  uttered,  when 
she  darted  on  me  her  black  and  piercing 
eyes,  with  a  look  so  steadfast  as  to  make  me 
quail  beneath  them. 

"Who's  that  there  ?"  said  the  hag,  in  a 
croaking,  harsh  voice. 

"  He's  a  young  boy  from  beyond  Lough- 
rea." 

"  No  ! "  shouted  she,  in  a  tone  of  pas- 
sionate energy,  "don't  tell  me  a  lie.  I'd 
know  his  brows  among  a  thousand  ;  he's  a 
son  of  Mat  Burke's,  of  Cronmore. " 

"  Begorra,  she  is  a  witch — devil  a  doubt 
of  it,"  muttered  Darby  between  his  teeth. 
"  You're  right,  Peg,"  continued  he,  after 
a  moment.  "  His  father's  dead,  and  the 
poor  child's  left  nothing  in  the  world." 

"And  so  ould  Mat's  dead,"  interrupted 
she.     "  When  did  he  die  ?  " 

"On  Tuesday  morning,  before  day." 

"I  was  dhraming  of  him  that  morn- 
ing, and  I  thought  he  kem  up  here  to  the 
cabin  door  on  his  knees,  and  said,  '  Peggy, 
Peggy  M'Casky,  I'm  come  to  ax  your  par- 
don for  all  I  done  to  you  ; '  and  I  sat  up 
in  my  bed,  and  cried  out,  '  Who's  that  ?  ' 
and  he  said,  ' 'Tis  me — 'tis  Mister  Burke 
— I'm  come  to  give  you  back  your  lease.' 
'I'll  tell  you  what  you'll  give  me  back,' 
says  I,  'give  me  the  man  whose  heart  you 
brack  with  bad  treatment — give  me  the 
two  fine  boys  you  transported  for  life — 
give  me  back  twenty  years  df  my  own,  that 
I  spent  m  sorrow  and  misery.'" 

"  Peg,  acushla  !  don't  speak  of  it  any 
more.  The  poor  child  here,  that's  fasting 
from  daybreak,  he  isn't  to  blame  for  what 
his  father  did.  I  think  the  praties  is 
done  by  this  time." 

So  saying,  he  lifted  the  pot  from  the  fire, 
and  carried  it  to  the  door  to  strain  off  the 


gained 


water.  The  action  seemed  to  rouse  the  old 
woman,  who  rose  rapidly  to  her  legs,  and, 
hastening  to  the  door,  snatched  the  pot 
from  his  hand,  and  pushed  him  to  one  side. 

"  'Tis  t  wo  days  since  I  tasted  hit  01 
'Tis  God  himself  knows  when  and  where 
I  may  have  it  ana  in  ;  bui  H   I  never  broke 
my  last    I'll   not  do  it  with  1 1  :    him 

thai  left  me  a  lone  woman  this  day,  that 
brought  the  man  that  loved  me  to  th< 
grave,  and  my  children  to  shame  for 
ever." 

As  she  spoke,  she  dashed  the  pot  into 
the  road  with  such  force  as  to  break  if  into 
fifty  pieces;  and  then,  sitting  down  on 
the  outside  of  the  cabin,  she  wrung  her 
hands  and  moaned  piteously,  in  the  ver) 
excess  of  her  sorrow. 

"Let  us  be  going,"  said  Darby,  in  a 
whisper.  "There's  no  spaking  to  her 
when  she's  one  of  them  fits  on  her." 

We  moved  silently  from  the   hovel,  and 
the    road.     My  heart   was   full  to 
bursting  —  shame    and    abasement    over- 
whelmed me,  and  I  dared  not  look  up. 

"Good-by,  Peg.     I  .hope  we'll  he  I 
friends  when  we  meet   again,"  said'   Dar- 
by, as  he  passed  out. 

She  made  no  reply,  but  entered  tin 
in,  from    which,  in   an   instant   after    she 
emerged,  carrying  a  lighted  sod  of  turf  m 
a  rude  wooden  tongs. 

"Come  along  (puck,"  said  Darby,  with 
a  look  of  terror,  "she's  going  to  curse 
you." 

I  turned  round,  transfixed  and  motion- 
less. If  my  life  depended  on  it.  I  could 
not  have  stirred  a  limb.  The  old  woman 
by  this  time  had  knelt  down  on  the  road, 
and  was  muttering  rapidly  to  herself. 

"Come  along,  I  say,''  "said  Darby,  pull- 
ing me  by  the  arm. 

"And  now,"  cried  the  hag.  aloud, 
"may  bad  luck  be  your  shadow  wherever 
you  walk,  with  sorrow  behind  and  bad 
hopes  before  you — may  you  never 
happiness  nor  ease,  and,  like  tins  turf, 
may  your  heart  be  always  burning  here, 
and — " 

I  heard  no  more,  for  Darby,  tearing  me 
away  by  main  force,  dragged  me  along  the 
road,  just  as  the  hissing  turf  embers  had 
fallen  at  my  feet,  where  the  hag  had 
thrown  them. 


CHAPTER    IV. 


MY   WANDERIXliS. 


I  CANNOT  deny  it,  the. horrible  impreca- 
tion I  had  heard  uttered  against  me  seemed 


248 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


to  fill  up  the  cup  of  my  misery.  An  out- 
cast, without  home,  without  a  friend,  this 
alone  was  wanting  fco  overwhelm  me  with 
very  wretchedness  ;  and,  as  I  covered  my 
face  with  both  hands,  I  thought  my  heart 
would  break. 

"Come,  come,  Master  Tom,"  said  Dar- 
by, "  don't  be  afeared,  it'll  never  do  you 
harm,  all  she  said.  I  made  the  sign  of 
the  cross  on  the  road  between  you  and 
her  with  the  end  of  my  stick,  and  you're 
safe  enough  this  time.  Faix,  she's  a 
quare  divil  when  she's  roused — to  destroy 
an  illigint  pot  of  praties  that  way  ;  but 
sure  she  had  hard  provocation.  Well, 
well,  }ou  warn't  to  blame,  any  how  :  Tony 
Basset  will  have  a  sore  reckoning  some 
day  for  all  this." 

The  mention  of  that  name  recalled  me  in 
a  moment  to  the  consideration  of  my  own 
danger  if  he  were  to  succeed  in  overtak- 
ing me, and  I  eagerly  communicated  my  fear 
to  Darin*. 

"That's  thrue,"  said  he;  "we  must 
leave  the  high  road,  for  Basset  will  he  up 
at  the  house  by  this,  and  will  lose  no  time 
in  following  you  out.  If  you  had  a  bit  of 
something  to  eat." 

"As  to  that,  Darby,"  said  I,  with  a  sick- 
ly effort  to  smile,  "  Peg's  curse  took  away 
my  appetite,  full  as  well  as  her  potatoes 
would  have  done." 

"  'Tis  a  bad  way  to  hreakfast,  after  all," 
said  Darby.  "  Do  you  ever  take  a  shaugh 
of  the  pipe,  Master  Tom  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  I,  laughing,  "  I  never  learned 
to  smoke  yet." 

"Well,"  replied  he,  a  little  piqued  hy 
the  tone  of  my  answer,  "  'tis  worse  you 
might  be  doin'  than  that  same.  Tobacco's 
a  fine  thing  for  the  heart !  Many's  the 
time,  when  I'm  alone,  if  I  hadn't  the  pipe 
I'd  be  lone  and  sorrowful — thinking  over 
the  hard  times  and  the  like  ;  but  when  I've 
filled  my  dudeen,  and  do  be  watching  the 
smoke  curling  up,  I  begin  dhraming  about 
sitting  round  the  fire  with  pleasant  com- 
panions, chatting  away,  and  discoorsing, 
and  telling  stories  ;  and  then  I  invint  the 
stories  to  myself  about  quare  devils  of  pipers 
traveling  over  the  country,  making  love 
here  and  there,  and  playing  dhroll  tunes 
out  of  their  own  heads  ;  and  then  I  make 
the  tunes  to  them  :  and  after  that,  maybe, 
I  make  words,  and  sometimes  lay  down  the 
pipe  and  begin  singing  to  myself  ;  and  often 
I  take  up  the  bagpipes  and  play  away  with 
all  my  might,  till  I  think  I  see'the  darling- 
est  little  fairies  ever  you  seen  dancing  be- 
fore me,  setting  to  one  another,  and  turning 
round,  and  capering  away — down  the  mid- 
dle and  up  again  :  small  chaps,  with  three- 


cornered  bats,  and  wigs,  and  little  red 
coats,  all  slashed  withgoold;  and  beautiful 
little  crayturcs  houlding  their  petticoats 
this  way,  to  show  a  nate  leg  and  foot  ;  and 
I  do  be  calling  out  to  them — '  Hands 
round' — 'That's  your  sowl ' — 'Look  at 
the  green  fellow,  'tis  himself  can  do  it' — 
'  llise  the  jig,  boo!'  and  faix  'tis  sorry 
enough  I'm  when  they  go,  and  lave  me  all 
alone  by  myself." 

"And  how  docs  all  that  come  into  your 
head,   Darby  ?  " 

"  Troth,  'tis  hard  to  tell,"  said  Darby, 
with  a  sigh  ;  "but  my  notion  is,  that  the 
poor  man  that  has  neither  fine  houses,  nor 
fine  clothes,  nor  horses,  nor  sarvants  to 
amuse  him,  that  Providence  is  kind  to  him 
in  another  way,  and  fills  his  mind  with  all 
manner  of  dhroll  thoughts,  and  quare 
stories,  and  bits  of  songs,  and  the  like  ;  and 
lets  him  into  many  a  sacret  about  fairies, 
and  the  good  people,  that  the  rich  has  no 
time  for  :  and  sure  you  must  have  often  re- 
marked it,  that  the  quality  has  never  a  bit 
of  fun  in  them  at  all,  but  does  be  always 
coming  to  us  for  something  to  make  them 
laugh.  Did  you  never  lave  the  parlor, 
when  the  company  was  sitting  with  lash- 
ings of  wine  and  fruit,  and  every  conva- 
niency,  and  go  down  stairs  to  the  kitchen, 
where  maybe  there  was  nothing  but  a  salt 
herrin'  and  a  jug  of  punch,  and  if  you  did, 
where  was  the  most  fun,  I  wondher  ?  Ar- 
rah,  when  they  bid  me  play  a  tune  for  them, 
and  I  look  at  their  sorrowful  pale  faces,  and 
their  dim  eyes,  and  the  stiff  way  they  sit 
upon  their  chairs,  I  never  put  heart  in  it ; 
but  when  I  rise  'Dirty  James,'  or  'The 
Little  Bould  Fox,'  or  'Kiss  my  Lady,'  for 
the  boys  and  girls,  sure  'tis  my  whole  sowl 
does  be  in  the  bag,  and  I  squeeze  the  notes 
out  of  it  with  all  my  might." 

In  this  way  did  Darby  converse  until  we 
reached  a  cross  road,  when,  coming  to  a 
halt,  he  pointed  with  his  finger  to  the  dis- 
tance, and  said  : 

"  Athlone  is  down  beyond  tfhat  low  moun- 
tain. Now,  Ned  Malone's  is  only  six  short 
miles  from  this.  You  keep  this  by-road  till 
you  reach  the  smith's  forge,  then  turn  off 
to  the  lift,  across  the  fields,  till  you  come 
to  an  ould  ruin,  lave  that  to  your  right  hand, 
and  follow  the  boreen  straight,  'twill  bring 
you  to  Ned's  doore." 

"But  1  don't  know  him,"  said  I. 

"  What  signifies  that — sure  'tis  no  need 
you  have — ell  him  you'll  stop  there  till 
j  Darby  the  Blast  comes  for  you  ;  and  see, 
;  now,here's  all  you  have  to  do— put  your  right 
thumb  in  the  palm  of  your  lift  hand,  (his 
!  way,  and  then  kiss  the  other  thumb,  then 
i  you  have  it  ;  but  mind  you  don't  do  that 


TOM  BUIiKE  OF  "OURS." 


249 


till  you're  alone  with  him — 'tis  a  token  be- 
tween ourselves." 

"I  wish  you  were  coming  with  me.  Dar- 
by— l"'l  rather  not  leave  you  !  " 
"  "'Tis  myself  mislikes  it,  too,"  said  Dar- 
by with  a  sigh  ;  "  but  I  daren't  miss  going 
to  Athlone,  the  Major  would  soon  ferret 
me  out — and  it's  worse  it  would  be  for 
me.'' 

"  And  what  am  I  to  do  if  Mr.  Basset 
comes  after  me  ?  " 

"  If  be  hasn't  a  throop  of  horse  at  bis 
back,  you  may  laugh  at  him  in  Ned  Ma- 
lone's.  And  now  good-by,  acushla  ;  and 
don't  let  your  heart  be  low — you'll  be  a  man 
soon,  you  know." 

The  words  of  encouragement  could  not 
have  been  more  happily  chosen  to  raise  my 
drooping  spirits.  The  sense  of  opening 
manhood  was  already  stirring  within  me, 
and  waited  but  for  some  direct  occasion  to 
elicit  it  in  full  vigor. 

I  shook  Darby's  hand  with  a  firm  grasp, 
and,  assuming  the  easiest  smile  I  could  ac- 
complish, set  out  on  the  path  before  me 
with  all  the  alacrity  in  my  power. 

The  first  thought  that  shot  across  my 
mind  when  I  parted  with  my  companion 
was  the  utter  loneliness  of  my  condition  ; 
the  next — and  it  followed  immediately  on 
the  other — was  the  bold  consciousness  of 
personal  freedom.  I  enjoyed,  at  the  mo- 
ment, the  untrammeled  liberty  to  wander, 
without  let  or  control.  All  memory  of  Tony 
Basset  was  forgotten,  and  I  only  remem- 
bered the  restraint  of  school  and  the 
tyranny  of  my  master.  My  plan — and  al- 
ready I  had  formed  a  plan — was  to  become 
a  farmer's  servant — to  work  as  a  daily  la- 
borer. Ned  Mai  one  would  probably  accept 
of  me,  young  as  I  was,  in  that  capacity  ; 
and  1  had  no  other  ambition  than  such  as 
secured  my  independence. 

As  I  traveled  along  I  wove  within  my 
mind  a  whole  web  of  imaginary  circum- 
stances—of  clays  of  peaceful  toil  ;  of  nights 
of  happy  and  contented  rest ;  of  friendship 
formed  with  those  of  my  own  age  and  con- 
dition ;  of  the  long  summer  evenings,  when 
I  should  ramble  alone  to  commune  with  my- 
self on  my  humble  but  happy  lot ;  on  the  red 
hearth  in  winter,  around  which  the  merry 
faces  of  the  cottagers  were  beaming,  as 
some  pleasant  tale  was  told  ;  and  as  I  asked 
myself,  would  I  exchange  a  life  like  this 
for  all  the  advantages  of  fortune  my 
brother's  position  afforded  him,  my  heart 
replied,  No.  Even  then  the  words  of  the 
piper  had  worked  upon  me,  and  already 
had  I  connected  the  possession  of  wealth 
with  oppression  and  tyranny,  and  the  lowly 
fortunes  of  the  poor  man  as  alone  securing 


high-souled  liberty  of  thought,  and  freedom 
ol  speech  and  aci  ion. 

1  trudged  along  through  the  storm,  tam- 
ing from  time  to  time  to  see  thai  I  was  not 
I  :  for  as  the  day  waned,  my  f<  ar  of 
being  overtaken    increased,   and    in  every 
moaning  of  the  wind,  and    •  tie  of 

the  branches,  I  thoughl  I  heard  Tony  Bas- 
set summoning  me  to  slop  and  surrender 
myself  his  prisoner.  This  dread  gradually 
gave  way,  as  the  loneliness  of  the  road  was 
unbroken  bya  single  traveler,  the  wild  half- 
tilled  fields  presented  no  Ii\  ing  objed  far 
or  near,  the  thick  rain  swooped  along  the 
swampy  earth,  and,  in  its  misty  darkness 
shut  out  all  distant  prospect,  and  a  sadder 
picture  eye  never  rested  on. 

At  length  I  reached  the  ruined  church 
Darby  spoke  of,  and  following  the  track  he 
indicated,  soon  came  out  upon  the  boreen, 
where  for  the  first  time  some  little  shelter 
existed. 

It  was  only  at  nightfall,  when  fatigue 
and  hunger  had  nearly  obtained  the  \  ictory 
over  me,  that  I  saw,  at  some  short  distance 
in  front,  the  long  roof  of  a  well-thatched 
cabin  ;  as  I  came  nearer,  I  could  perceive 
that  it  contained  several  windows,  and  thai 
the  door  was  sheltered  by  a  small  porch — 
marks  of  comfort  by  no  means  common 
among  the  neighboring  farmers  :  lights 
moved  here  and  there  through  the  cabin, 
and  the  voices  of  people  driving  in  the 
cows,  and  the  barking  of  dogs,  were 
welcome  sounds  to  my  ear.  A  half-clad 
urchin,-  of  some  seven  years  old,  armed 
with  a  huge  bramble,  was*  driving  a  flock  of 
turkeys  before  him  as  I  approached  ;  but 
instead  of  replying  to  my  question,  "If 
this  were  Ned  Malone's  ?  "the  little  fellow 
threw  down  his  weapon,  and  ran. for  his 
life.  Before  I  could  recover  from  mv  sur- 
prise at  his  strange  conduct  the  dooropened, 
and  a  large,  powerful-looking  man,  in  a 
long  blue  coat,  appeared.  He  carried  a 
musket  in  his  hand,  which,  as  soon  as  he 
perceived  the  figure  before  him,  he  laid 
down  within  the  porch,  calling  out  to  some 
o*u  e  inside, 

"  Go  back,  Maurice — it's  nothing.  "Well, 
sir,"  continued  be,  addressing  me,  "  do  you 
want  anybody  hereabouts  ?  " 

"Is  this  Ned  Malone's,  may  I  ask?" 
said  I. 

"It  is,"  answered  he,  "and  lam  Ned 
Mai  one,  at  your  service  ;  and  what  then  ?  " 

There  was  somethingint.be  cold,  forbid- 
ding tone  in  which  he  spoke,  as  well  as  in 
the  bard  severity  of  his  look,  that  froze  all 
my  resolution  to  ask  a  favor,  and  I  would 
gladly  have  sought  elsewhere  for  shelter  for 
the  night,  had  I  known  where  to  look. 


250 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


The  delay  this  indecision  on  my  pari 
i  .-rated  caused  him  to  repeat  his  quest  ion, 
while  he  fixed  Ins  eyes  on  me  with  a  dark 
and  piercing  expression. 

"Darby  the  Blasl  told  me,"  said  I,  with 
a  great  effort  to  seem  at  ease,  "  that  you 
Mould  give  me  shelter  to-night.  To-mor- 
row morning  he's  to  come  here  for  me." 

"And  who  are  you  ?"  said  he,  harshly, 
"that  I'm  to  take  into  my  house?  In 
these  troublesome  times  a  man  may  ask  the 
name  of  his  lodger." 

"  My  name  is  Burke.  My  father's  name 
was  Burke,  of  Cremore,  but  he's  dead 
now." 

"  'Tis  you  that  Basset  is  after  all  day,  is 
it?" 

"  I  can't  tell,  but  I  fear  it  may  be." 

"  Well,  some  one  told  him  that  you  took 
the  Dublin  road,  and  another  sent  him  up 
here,  and  the  boys  here  sent  him  to  Durrah. 
And  what  are  you  after,  young  gentleman  ? 
Do  you  'dislike  Tony  Basset  ?    Is  that  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  I'm  resolved  never  to 
go  home  and  live  with  him.  He  made  my 
father  hate  me,  and  through  him  I  have 
been  left  a  beggar." 

"  There's  more  than  you  has  a  score  to 
settle  with  Tony.  Come  into  the  house 
and  get  your  clothes  dried.  But  stop,  I 
have  a  bit  of  caution  to  give  you.  If  you 
see  anything  or  anybody  while  you're  under 
my  roof  that  you  didn't  expect " 

"  Trust  me  there,"  interrupted  I,  eagerly, 
and  making  the  sign  the  piper  had  taught 
me. 

"What !  "  cried  Malone  in  astonishment, 
"are  you  one  of  us?  Is  a  son  of  Matt 
Burke's  going  to  redress  the  wrongs  his 
father  and  grandfather  before  him  inflicted? 
Give  me  your  hand,  my  brave  boy  ;  there's 
nothing  in  this  house  isn't  your  own  from 
this  minit." 

I  grasped  his  strong  hand  in  mine,  and, 
with  a  proud  and  swelling  heart,  followed 
him  into  the  cabin. 

A  whisper  crept  round  the  various  persons 
that  sat  and  stood  about  the  kitchen  fire  as 
1  appeared  among  them  ;  and  the  next 
moment  one  after  another  pressed  anxiously 
forward  to  shake  hands  with  me. 

"Help  him  off  with  his  wet  clothes, 
Maurjce,"  said  Malone,  to  a  young  man  of 
some  twenty  years  ;  and  in  a  few  seconds 
my  wet  garments  were  hung  on  chairs  be- 
fore the  blaze,  and  I  myself,  accommodated 
with  a  frieze  coat  that  would  make  a  waist- 
coat for  an  elephant,  sat  basking  before  the 
cheerful  turf  fire.  The  savory  steam  of  a 
great  mess  of  meat  and  potatoes  induced 
me  to  peep  into  the  large  pot  over  the  fire  ; 
a  hearty  burst  of  laughing  from  the  whole 


party  acknowledged  their  detection  of  my 

ravenous  hunger,  and  the  supper  was  smok- 
ing on  the  board  in  a  lew  minutes  after. 
Unhappily,  a  good  number  of  years  have 
rolled  over  my  head  since  that  nighl  ;  but 
I  still  hesitate  to  decide  whether  to  my 
appetite  or  to  Mrs.  Malone's  cookery  I 
should  attribute  it,  but  certainly  my  per- 
formance on  that  occasion  called  forth  un- 
qualified admiration. 

I  observed,  during  the  supper,  thai  one  of 
the  girls  carried  a  plateful  of  thesavory  dish 
into  a  small  room  at  the  end  of  the  kitch- 
en, carefully  closing  the  door  after  her  as 
she  entered,  and,  when  she  came  out,  ex- 
changing with  Malone  a  few  hurried  words, 
to  which  the  attention  of  the  others  was 
evidently  directed.  The  caution  1  had  al- 
ready received,  and  my  own  sense  of  pro- 
priety, prevented  my  paying  any  attention 
to  this,  and  I  conversed  with  those  about 
me,  freely  narrating  the  whole  circumstan- 
ces of  my  departure  from  home,  my  fear 
of  Basset,  and  my  firm  resolve — come  what 
might — never  to  become  an  inmate  of  his 
house  and  family.  Not  all  the  interest 
they  took  in  my  fortunes,  nor  even  the 
warm  praises  of  what  they  called  my  cour- 
age and  manliness',  could  ward  off  the 
tendency  to  sleep,  and  my  eyes  actually 
closed  as  I  lay  down  in  my  bed,  and,  not- 
withstanding the  noise  of  voices  and  the 
sounds  of  laughter  so  near  me,  sank  into 
the  heaviest  slumber. 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE   CABIN. 


Before  day  broke,  the  stir  and  bustle  of 
the  household  awoke  me,  and,  had  it  not 
been  for  the  half-open  door,  which  per- 
mitted a  view  of  the  proceedings  in  the 
kitchen,  I  should  have  been  sadly  puzzled 
to  remember  where  I  was.  The  cheerful 
turf  fire,  the  happy  faces,  and  the  pleasant 
voices,  all  reminded  me  of  the  preceding 
night,  and  I  lay  pondering  over  my  for- 
tunes, and  revolving  within  myself  many 
a  plan  for  the  future. 

In  all  the  day-dreams  of  ambition  in 
which  youth  indulges,  there  is  this  advan- 
tage over  the  projects  of  mature  years — the 
past  never  mingles  with  the  future.  In  af- 
ter life  our  by-gone  existence  is  ever  ting- 
ing the  time  to  come  ;  the  expectations 
friends  have  formed  of  us,  the  promises  Ave 
have  made  to  our  own  hearts,  the  hopes  wo 
have  created,  seem  to  pledge  us  to  some- 
thing   which,   if   unattained,   sounds   like 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS: 


251 


failure;  but,  in  earlier  years,  the  budding 
consciousness  of  our  ability  to  reach  the 
goal  does  but  stimulate  us,  and  never  chills 
our  efforts  by  the  dread  of  disappointment. 

We  have,  as  il  were,  only  hound  ourselves 
in   recognisances  with    our   own    hearts — 

the  world  has  not  gone  hail  for  us,  and  our 
falling  short  involves  not  the  ruin  of  oth- 
ers, nor  the  loss  of  that  self-respect  which 
is  hut  the  reflex  of  the  opinion  of  society. 
I  felt  this  strongly  ;  and,  the  more  I  rumi- 
nated on  it,  the  more  resolutely  bent  was  I 
to  adopl  some  hold  career — some  enterpris- 
ing path,  where  ambition  should  supply  to 
me  the  pleasures  and  exci  ents  that  oth- 
ers found  among  friends  and  home. 

I  now  perceived  how  unsuitable  would 
be  to  me  the  quiet  monotony  of  a  peasant's 
life — how  irksome  the  recurrence  of  the 
same  daily  occupations — the  routine  of 
ceaseless  labor — the  intercourse  with  those 
whose  views  and  hopes  strayed  not  beyond 
their  own  hedge-rows.  A  soldier's  life  ap- 
peared to  realize  all  that  I  looked  for  ;  but 
then,  the  conversation  of  the  piper  re- 
curred to  me,  and  I  remembered  how  he 
painted  these  men  to  me  as  mere  hireling 
bravos,  to  whom  glory  or  fame  was  noth- 
ing, merely  actuated  by  the. basest  of  pas- 
sions, the  slaves  of  tyranny.  All  the  atro- 
cities he  mentioned  of  the  military  in  the 
past  year  came  up  before  me,  and  with 
them  the  brave  resistance  of  the  people  in 
their  struggle  for  independence.  How  my 
heart  glowed  with  enthusiasm  as  I  thought 
over  the  bold  stand  they  had  made,  and 
how  I  panted  to  be  a  man,  and  linked  in 
sue h  a  cause.  Every  gloomy  circumstance 
in  my  own  fate  seemed  as  the  result  of  that 
grinding  oppression  under  which  my  coun- 
try suffered,  even  to  the  curse  vented  on 
me  by  one  whose  ruin  and  desolation  lay 
at  my  own  father's  door.  My  temples 
throbbed,  and  my  heart  beat  painfully 
against  my  side,  as  I  revolved  these 
thoughts  within  me  ;  and  when  I  rose  from 
my  bed  that  morning  I  was  a  rebel  with 
ail  my  soul. 

The  day,  like  the  preceding  one,  was 
stormy  and  inclement.  The  rain  poured 
down  without  ceasing,  and  the  dark,  lour- 
ing sky  gave  no  promise  of  better  things. 
The  household  of  the  cottage  remained  all 
at  home,  and  betook  themselves  to  such 
occupations  as  in-door  permitted.  The 
women  sat  down  to  their  spinning-wheels 
— some  of  the  men  employed  themselves  in 
repairing  their  tools,  and  others  in  making- 
nets  for  fishing;  but  all  were  engaged. 
Meanwhile,  amid  the  sounds  of  labor  was 
mixed  the  busy  hum  of  merry  voices,  as 
they  chatted  away  pleasantly,  with  many  a 


story  and  many  a  song  lightening  i'm-  long 
"hours    of    the   dark    day.     As    for   me,  i 
longed  impatiently  for  Darby's 
thousand   half-formed    p  i  re  flitting 

through  my  mind,  and  i  burned  to  hear 
whether  Bassel  was  still  in  pursuit  of  me — 
wh.it  course  he  was  adopting  to  regain  me 
within  his  control — if  Darbj  n  my 

friend  Bubbleton,  and  whether  he  showed 
any  disposition  to  befriend  and  protect  me. 
These  and  such  like  thoughts  kepi  pi 
through    my    mind 
would  -hake  the  rude  door.  1  would 
up  with  eagerness,  hop:    _  omenl 

r.     Bui  the  ■  d  011, 

and  the  dusky  half-light  ntry  after- 

noon was  falling,  and  J  de  not  his 

appearance.  When  I  spoke  of  him  to  the 
others,  they  expressed  no  surprise  at  his 
absence,  merely  remarking  thai  lie  . 
ways  uncertain — no  one  knew  when  to  ex- 
pect him — that  he  rarely  came  when  they 
looked  for  him,  and  constantly  dropped  in 
when  no  one  anticipated  it. 

"  There  he  is  now,  then,"  said  one  of  the 
young  men,  springing  up  and  opening  the 
door  ;   "  I  hear  his  voice  in  the  glen." 

"  Do  you  see  him,  Maurice  ?  cried  Ma- 
lone.      "Is  it  him  ?  *" 

The  young  man  stepped  back,  his  face 
pale  as  death,  and  his  mouth  partly  open 
He  whispered  a  word  in  the  old  man's  car, 
to  which  the  other  responded  : 

"Where  ?"  The  youth  pointed  with 
his  finger.  "How  many  arc  they  ?  "  was 
his  next  question,  while  his  dark  eye 
glanced  toward  the  old  musket  that  hung 
on  the  wall  above  the  fire. 

"Too  many — too  many  for  us,''  said 
Maurice,  bitterly. 

The  women,  who  had  gathered  around 
the  speaker,  looked  at  each  other  with  an 
expression  of  utter  wretchedness,  when  one 
of  them,  breaking  from  the  others,  rushed 
into  the  little  inner  room  off  the  kitchen, 
and  slammed  the  door  violently  behind  her. 
The  next  instant  the  sound  of  voices  was 
heard  from  the  room,  as  if  in  altercation. 
Malone  turned  round  at  once,  and,  throw- 
ing the  door  wide  open,  called  out  : 

"Be  quiet,  I  say.  There's  no!  a  mo- 
ment to  be  lost.  Maurice,  put  that  gun 
away — Shamus,  take  up  your  net  again — 
sit  down,  girls." 

At  the  same  instant  he  drew  from  his 
bosom  a  long  horse  pistol,  and.  having  ex- 
amined the  loading  and  priming,  replaced 
it  within  his  waistcoat,  and  sat  down  on  a 
chair  beside  the  fire,  his  strongly  marked 
countenance  fixed  on  the  red  blaze,  while 
his  lips  muttered  rapidly  some  words  to 
himself. 


252 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


"Are  ye  ready  there  ?"  he  cried,  as  his 
eyes  were  turned  toward  the  small  door. 

"  In  a  minit,"  said  the  woman  from 
within. 

At  the  same  instant  the  sounds  of  voices 
and  the  regular  tramp  of  men  marching 
were  heard  without. 

"  Halt  !  stand  at  ease  !  "  called  out  a 
deep  voice,  and  the  clank  of  the  muskets 
as  they  fell  to  the  ground  was  heard 
through  the  cabin.  Meanwhile,  every  one 
within  had  resumed  his  previous  place  and 
occupation,  and  the  buzz  of  voices  re- 
sounded through  the  kitchen,  as  though 
no  interruption  whatever  had  taken  place. 
The  latch  was  now  lifted,  and  a  sergeant, 
stooping  to  permit  his  tall  feather  to  pass 
in,  entered,  followed  by  a  man  in  plain 
clothes. 

The  latter  was  a  short,  powerfully-built 
man,  of  about  fifty  ;  his  hair,  of  a  grizzly 
gray,  contrasted  with  the  deep  purjole  of 
his  countenance,  which  was  swollen  and 
bloated — the  mouth,  its  most  remarkable 
feature,  was  large  and  thick-lipped — the 
under  lip  projecting  considerably  forward, 
and  having  a  strange,  convulsive  motion 
when  he  was  not  speaking. 

"It's  a  hard  day,  Mister  Barton,"  said 
Malone,  rising  from  his  seat,  and  stroking 
down  his  hair  with  one  hand.  "Won't 
ye  come  over  and  take  an  air  at  the  fire  ?  " 

"I  will,  indeed,  Ned,"  said' he,  taking 
the  proffered  seat  and  stretching  out  his 
legs  to  the  blaze.  "It's  a  severe  season  we 
have.  I  don't  know  how  the  poor  are  to 
get  in  the  turf  ;  the  bogs  are  very  wet  en- 
tirely." 

"  They  are,  indeed,  sir  ;  and  the  har- 
vest 'ill  be  very  late  getting  in  now,"  said 
one  of  the  young  men,  with  a  most  obse- 
quious voice.  "  Won't  ye  sit  down,  sir  ?  " 
said  he  to  the  sergeant. 

A  nod  from  Mister  Barton  in  acqui- 
escence  decided  the  matter,  and  the  ser- 
geant was  seated. 

"  What's  here,  Mary  ? "  said  Barton, 
striking  the  large  pot  that  hung  over  the 
fire  with  his  foot. 

"  It's  the  boys'  dinner,  sir,"  said  the  girl. 

"  I  think  it  wouldn't  be  a  bad  job  if  we 
joined  them,"  replied  he,  laughingly — 
"eh,  sergeant  ?  " 

"There  'ill  be  enough  for  us  all,"  said 
Malone,  "and  I'm  sure  ye're  welcome 
to  it." 

The  table  was  quickly  spread,  tnc  places 
next  the  fire  being  reserved  for  the  stran- 
gers ;  while  Malone,  unlocking  a  cupboard, 
took  dowrn  a  bottle  of  whisky,  which  he 
placed  before  them,  remarking,  as  he  did 
so — 


"  Don't  be  afeard,  gentlemen — 'tis  Par- 
liament." 

"That's  right,  Malone.  I  like  a  man  to 
be  loyal  in  these  bad  times  ;  there's  nothing 
like  it.  Faith,  Mary,  you're  a  good  cook — 
that's  as  savory  a  stew  as  ever  I  tasted. 
Where's  Patsey  now  ?  I  haven't  seen  him 
for  some  time." 

The  girl's  face  grew  dark  red,  and  then 
became  as  suddenly  pale  ;  when,  staggering 
back,  she  lifted  her  apron  to  her  face,  anil 
leaned  against  the  dresser. 

"  He's  transported  for  life,"  said  Malone, 
in  a  deep,  sepulchral  voice,  while  all  his 
efforts  to  conceal  agitation  were  fruitless. 

"Oh,  I  remember,"  said  Barton,  care- 
lessly, "he  was  in  the  dock  with  the  Ho- 
gans.  I'll  take  another  bone  from  you, 
Ned.  Sergeant,  that's  a  real  Irish  dish, 
and  no  bad  one  either." 

"  What's  doing  at  the  town  to-day  ? " 
said  Malone,  affecting  an  air  of  easy  in- 
difference. 

"  Nothing  remarkable,  I  believe ;  they 
have  taken  up  that  rascal,  Darby  the  Blast, 
as  they  call  him.  The  Major  had  him 
under  examination  this  morning  for  two 
hours  ;  and  they  say  he'll  give  evidence 
against  the  Dillons — a  little  more  fat,  if  ye 
please — money,  you  know,  Ned,  will  do 
anything  these  times." 

"You  ought  to  know  that,  sir,"  said 
Maurice,  with  such  an  air  of  assumed  in- 
nocence, as  actually  made  Barton  look 
ashamed.  In  an  instant,  however,  he  re- 
covered himself  and  pretended  to  laugh  at 
the  remark.  "Your  health,  sergeant — 
Ned  Malone,  your  health — ladies,  yours, 
and  boys  the  same."  A  shower  of  "  thank 
ye,  sir's, "  followed  this  piece  of  unlooked- 
for  courtesy.  "  Who's  that  boy  there, 
Ned  ? "  said  he,  pointing  to  me,  as  I  sat 
with  my  eyes  riveted  upon  him. 

"  He's  from  this  side  of  Banagher,  sir," 
said  Malone,  evading  the  question. 

"  Come  over  here,  younker.  What's  his 
name  ?  " 

"  Tom,  sir. 

"Come  over,  Tom,  till  I  teach  you  a 
toast.  Here's  a  glass,  my  lad — hold  it 
steady,  till  I  fill  you  a  bumper.  Did  you 
ever  hear  tell  of  the  croppies  ?  " 

"No,  never." 

"  Never  heard  of  the  croppies  !  Well, 
you're  not  long  in  Ned  Malone's  company, 
anyhow — eh  ?  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  Well,  my 
man,  the  croppies  is  another  name  for  the 
rebels,  and  the  toast  I'm  going  to  give  you 
is  about  them.  So  mind  you  finish  it  at 
one  pull — here  now,  are  you  ready  ?  " 

"Yes,  quite  ready,"  said  I,  as  I  held  the 
brimming  glass  straight  before  me. 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


253 


"  Hero's  it  then  : 

'  May  every  croppy  taste  the  rope, 

And  find  some  man  t<>  bangthem  ; 
May  Bagnal  Harvey  and  the  Pope 
Have  Heppenstal  to  hang  them."' 

I  knew  enough  of  the  meaning  of  his 
words  to  catch  the  allusion,  and  dashing 
the  glass  with  all  my  force  against  the 
Avail,  I  smashed  it  in  a  hundred  pieces. 
Barton  sprang  from  his  chair,  his  face  dark 
with  passion,  clutching  me  by  the  collar 
with  both  hands,  he  cried  out,  "Holloa 
there  without,  bring  in  the  handcuffs  here  ! 
As  sure  as  my  name's  Sandy  Barton,  we'll 
teach  you  that  toast  practically,  and  that 
ere  long.'' 

"  Take  care  what  you  do  there,"  said 
Malone,  fiercely ;  "  that  young  gentleman 
is  a  son  of  Matthew  Burke  of  C  rem  ore  ;  his 
relatives  are  not  the  kind  of  people  to  fig- 
ure in  your  riding-house." 

"Are  you  a  son  of  Matthew  Burke  ?" 

"lam." 

"  What  brings  you  here,  then  ? — why 
are  you  not  at  home  ?  " 

"  By  what  right  do  you  dare  to  ask  me  ? 
I  have' yet  to  learn  how  far  I  am  responsi- 
ble for  where  I  go  to  a  thief-catcher." 

*"  You  hear  that,  sergeant,  you  heard 
him  use  a  word  to  bring  me  into  contempt 
before  the  people,  and  excite  them  to  use 
acts  of  violence  toward  me." 

"No  such  thing,  Mister  Barton,"  said 
Malone,  coolly  ;  "  nobody  here  has  any 
thought  of  molesting  you.  I  told  you 
that  young  gentleman's  name  and  condi- 
tion, to  prevent  you  making  any  mistake 
concerning  him  ;  for  his  friends  are  not 
the  people  to  trifle  with." 

This  artfully-put  menace  had  its  effect ; 
Barton  sat  clown  again,  and  appeared  to 
reflect  for  a  few  minutes,  then  taking  a 
roll  of  paper  from  his  pocket,  he  began 
leisurely  to  peruse  it.  The  silence  at  this 
moment  was  something  horribly  oppres- 
sive. 

"  This  ia  a  search-warrant,  Mr.  Malone," 
said  Barton,  laying  down  the  paper  on  the 
table,  "  empowering  me  to  seek  for  the 
body  of  a  certain  French  officer,  said  to  be 
concealed  in  these  parts.  Informations  on 
oath  state  that  he  passed,  at  least,  one  night 
under  your  roof.  As  he  has  not  accepted 
the  amnesty  granted  to  the  other  officers  in 
the  late  famous  attempt  against  the  peace 
of  this  country,  the  law  will  deal  with  him 
as  strict  justice  may  demand  ;  at  the  same 
time,  it  is  right  you  should  know  that 
harboring  or  sheltering  him,  under  these 
circumstances,  involves  the  person  or  per- 
sons so  doing  in  his  guilt.     Mr.  Mai  one's 


well-known  and  tried  loyalty."  continued 
Barton,  with  a  half  grin  of  mosi  malicious 
meaning,  "would  certainly  exculpate  him 
from   any  suspicion    of   this  nature;    but 

sworn  informal  ions  are  Btubborn  things, 
and   it   ia   possible  that,   in    ignorance  of 

the  danger  such  a  proceeding  would 
involve " 

"I  thought  the  thrubbles  was  over,  sir," 
interrupted  Malone,  wiping  bis  forehead 
with  the  back  of  his  band,  "  and  thai  an 
honest,  industrious  man,  thai  minded  hie 
own  business,  had  nothing  to  fear  from  any 
one." 

"And  you  thought  right,"  said  Barton, 
slowly  and  deliberately,  while  he  scanned 
the  other's  features  with  a  searching  look  : 
"and  that  is  the  very  fact  I'm  come  to 
ascertain  ;  and  now,  with  your  leave,  we'll 
first  search  the  house  and  offices  ;  and  then 
I'll  put  a  little  interrogatory  to  such  per- 
sons as  I  think  fit,  touching  this  affair." 

"  You're  welcome  to  go  over  the  cabin 
whenever  you  like,"  said  Malone,  rising, 
and  evidently  laboring  to  repress  his  pas- 
sionate indignation  at  Barton's  coolness. 

Barton  stood  up  at  the  same  moment, 
and  giving  a  wink  at  the  sergeant  to  follow, 
walked  toward  the  small  door  I've  already 
mentioned.  Malone's  wife  at  this  started 
forward,  and,  catching  Barton's  arm,  whis- 
pered a  few  words  in  his  car. 

"  She  must  be  a  very  old  woman  by  this 
time,"  said  Barton,  fixing  his  sharp  eyes 
on  the  speaker. 

"Upwards  of  ninety,  sir,  and  bedridden 
for  twelve  years,"  said  the  woman,  wiping 
a  tear  away  with  her  apron. 

"And  how  comes  it  she's  so  afraid  of  the 
soldiers,  if  she's  doting  ?  " 

"  Arrah  !  they  used  to  frighten  her  so 
much,  coming  in  at  night,  and  firing  shots 
at  the  doors,  and  drinking  and  singing 
songs,  that  she  never  got  over  it,  and  that's 
the  rayson.  I'll  beg  of  your  honor  not  to 
bring  in- the  sergeant,  and  to  disturb  her 
only  as  little  as  you  can,  for  it  sets  her  rav- 
ing about  battles  and  murders,  and  it's 
maybe  ten  days  before  we'll  get  her  mind 
at  case  again." 

"Well,  well,  I'll  not  trouble  her."  said 
he,  quickly.  "  Sergeant,  step  back  for  a 
moment." 

With  this  he  entered  the  room,  followed 
by  the  woman,  whose  uncertain  stop  and 
quiet  gesture  seemed  to  suggest  caution. 

"  She's  asleep,  sir,"  said  she,  approach- 
ing the  bed.  "It's  many  a  day  since  she 
had  as  fine  a  sleep  as  that.  'Tis  good  luck 
you  brought  us  this  morning,  Mister  Bar- 
ton." 

"  Draw  aside  the  curtain  a  little,"  said 


JJ54 


GHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


Barter' .,  in  a  low  voice,  as  if  fearing  to 
awake  the  sleeper. 

"  'Tis  rousing  her  up,  you'll  be,  Mister 
Barton.     She  feels  the  Light  at  wanst." 

"She  breathes  very  long-  for  so  old  a 
woman,"  said  he,  somewhat  louder,  "and 
has  a  good  broad  shoulder,  too.  I'd  like, 
if  it  was  only  for  curiosity,  just  to  see  her 
face  a  little  closer.  I  thought  so  !  Come, 
Captain,  it's  no  use — " 

A  scream  from  the  woman  drowned  the 
remainder  of  the  speech,  while  at  the  same 
instant  one  of  the  young  men  shut  to  the 
outside  door,  and  barred  it.  The  sergeant 
was  immediately  pinioned  with  his  hands 
behind  his  back,  and  Malone  drew  his  horse- 
pistol  from  his  bosom,  and,  holding  up  his 
hand,  called  out  : 

"  ]S"ot  a  word — not  a  word  !  If  ye  spake, 
it  will  be  the  last  time  ever  you'll  do  so  ! " 
said  he  to  the  sergeant. 

At  the  same  moment,  the  noise  of  a  scuf- 
fle was  heard  in  the  inner  room,  and  the 
door  burst  suddenly  open,  and  Barton  is- 
sued forth,  dragging  in  his  strong  hands 
the  figure  of  a  young,  slightly-formed  man. 
His  coat  was  off,  but  his  trowsers  were 
braided  with  gold,  in  military  fashion  ;  and 
his  black  moustache  denoted  the  officer. 
The  struggle  of  the  youth  to  get  free  was 
utterly  fruitless  ;  Barton's  grasp  was  on  his 
collar,  and  he  held  him  as  though  he  were 
a  child. 

Malone  stooped  down  toward  the  fire, 
and,  opening  the  pan  of  his  pistol,  exam- 
ined the  priming  ;  then,  slapping  it  down 
again,  he  stood  erect. 

"Barton,"  said  he,  in  a  tone  of  firm  de- 
termination I  heard  him  use  for  the  first 
time — "  Barton,  it's  bad  to  provoke  a  man 
with  the  halter  round  his  neck  !  I  know 
what's  before  me  well  enough  now.  But, 
see,  let  him  escape — give  him  two  honVs  to 
get  away — and  here  I'll  surrender  myself 
your  prisoner,  and  follow  you  where  you 
like." 

"  Break  in  the  door,  there,  blast  ye  ! " 
was  the  reply  to  this  offer,  as  Barton  shouted 
to  the  soldiers  at  the. top  of  his  voice.  Two 
of  the  young  men  darted  forward  as  he 
spoke,  and  threw  themselves  against  it. 
"  Fire  through  it !  "  cried  Barton,  stamp- 
ing with  passion. 

"You  will  have  it,  will  you,  then  ?"said 
Malone,  as  he  ground  his  teeth  in  anger; 
then,  raising  his  pistol,  he  sprang  forward, 
and  holding  it  within  a  yard  of  Barton's 
face,  shouted  out,  "There!"  The  powder 
flashed  in  the  lock,  and,  quick  as  its  own 
report,  Barton  hurled  the  Frenchman 
round  to  protect  him  from  the  ball,  but 
only  in  time  to  receive  the  shot  in  his  right 


arm  as  he  held  il  uplifted.  The  arm  fell 
powerless  to  his  side,  while  Malone,  spring- 
ing on  him  like  a  tiger,  grasped  him  in  his 
powerful  grip,  and  they  both  rolled  upon 
the  ground  in  terrible  conflict.  The 
Frenchman  stood  for  an  ins! ant  like  one 
transiixed,  then,  bursting  from  the  snot, 
dashed  through  the  kitchen  to  the  small 
room  I  had  slept  in.  One  of  the  young 
men  followed  him.  The  crash  of  glass,  and 
the  sounds  of  breaking  woodwork  were 
heard  among  the  other  noises,  and  at  the 
same  moment  the  door  gave  way  in  front, 
and  the  soldiers  with  fixed  bayonets  entered 
at  a  charge. 

"Fire  on  them  !  fire  on  them  !"  shout- 
ed Barton,  as  he  lay  struggling  on  the 
ground  ;  and  a  random  volley  rang  I  h rough 
the  cabin,  filling  it  with  smoke.  A  yell  of 
anguish  burst  forth  at  the  moment,  and 
one  of  the  women  lay  stretched  upon  the 
hearth,  her  bosom  bathed  in  blood.  The 
scene  was  now  a  terrible  one  ;  for,  although 
overpowered  by  numbers,  the  young  men 
rushed  on  the  soldiers,  and,  regardless  of 
wounds,  endeavored  to  wrest  their  arms 
from  them.  The  bayonets  glanced  through 
the  blue  smoke,  and  shouts  of  rage  and  de- 
fiance rose  up  amid  frightful  screams  of 
suffering  and  woe.  A  bayonet-stab  in  the 
side,  received  I  know  not  how,  sent  me  half 
fainting  into  the  little  room,  through  which 
the  Frenchman  had  escaped.  The  open 
window  being  before  me,  I  did  not  delibe- 
rate a  second,  but,  mounting  the  table, 
crept  through  it,  and  fell  heavily  on  the 
turf  outside.  In  a  moment  after  I  rallied, 
and,  staggering  onward,  reached  a  potato- 
field,  where,  overcome  by  pain  and  weak- 
ness, I  sank  into  one  of  the  furrows,  scarce- 
ly conscious  of  what  had  occurred. 

Weak  and  exhausted  as  I  was,  I  could 
still  hear  the  sounds  of  the  conflict  that 
raged  within  the  cabin.  Gradually,  how- 
ever, they  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  and  at 
last  subsided  altogether.  Yet  I  feared  to 
stir  ;  and  although  night  was  now  falling, 
and  the  silence  continued  unbroken,  I  lay 
still,  hoping  to  hear  some  well-known  voice, 
or  even  the  footstep  of  some  one  belonging 
to  the  house  ;  but  all  was  calm,  and  noth- 
ing stirred.  The  very  air,  too,  was  hushed: 
not  a  leaf  moved  in, the  thin,  frosty  atmo- 
sphere. The  dread  of  finding  the  soldiers 
in  possession  of  the  cabin  made  me  fearful 
of  quitting  my  hiding-place,  and  I  did  not 
move.  Some  hours  had  passed  over  ere  I 
gained  courage  enough  to  raise  my  head 
and  look  about  me. 

My  first  glance  was  directed  toward  the 
distant  high-road,  where  I  expected  to  have 
seen  some  of  the  party  who  attacked  the 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


255 


cabin;  but,  far  as  my  eye  could  reach,  no  desecrated  a  peaceful  home,  and  brought 
living  thing  was  to  be  seen ;  my  next  was   blood  and  death  among  its  inm 


toward  the  cabin,  which,  to  myhorrorand 
amazement,  I  soon  perceiv<  d  wa 
in  a  thick,,  dark  smoke,  that  rolled  lazily 
from  the  windows  and  doorway,  and  even 
issued  from  the  thatched  roof.  As  1  looked, 
I  could  hear  the  crackling  of  timber  and 
tbe  sound  oi!  wood  burning.  These  con- 
tinued to  increase;  and  then  a  red,  forked 
flame  shot  through  one  of  the  casements, 


was  the   very  realization  before  my  c; 
what  M'Keown  had  been  telling  me  ;  here 
tbe    horrible    picture    be    bad  drawn    of 
tyranny  and  outrage,     in  the  bumbl 

I  saw  hut  simple-mil  ants. 

who  had  opened  their  dooi  poor 

unfriended   outcast — one  who,  like  m; 
had  neither  house  nor  home.     I  saw  them 
offering  thi  ality  to  him  whosoughl 


and,  turning  upward,  caught  the  thatch,    it,  1'ncly  and  openly;  andat  last,  adventur- 
where,  passing  rapidly  across  the  entire  roof,   ing  all   they  possessed  in  the  world,  rather 

it,  hurst  into  abroad  sheet  of  fire,  which   than    betray    him— and   their   reward  was 
died  out  again   as   rapidly,  and    left  the  this!    Oh,  how  nrj  heart    rev<  such 

gloomy  smoke#triumphant.  'oppression!   how  my  spirit    fired  at 

Meanwhile,  a  roaring  sound,  like  that  of  indignity!     I  thought  a  life   passed  in  op- 
a  furnace,  was  heard  from  within  ;  and  at   position  to  such  tyranny  were  too  Bhoi 
last,  with  an  explosion  like  a  mortar,  the   vengeance,  and  I  knelt  me  down  beside  that 
roof  burst  open,  and  the  bright  blaze  sprang  blackened    hearth,   and  swore    myself  i 
forth;  the  rafters  were  soon  enveloped  in   enemy  to  tbe  death. 
fire,  and  the  heated  straw  rose  into  the  air. 
and  floated  in  thin  streaks  of  flame  through 
the   black   sky.      The  door-cases   and  the 
window-frames    were     all     burning,    and 
marked  their    outlines   against    the   dark 
walls ;  and,  as  the  thatch  was  consumed,  | 

the  red  rafters  were'  seen  like  the  ribs  of  a  As  I  thought  over  the  various  incidents 
skeleton,  but  they  fell  in  one  by  one,  sending  i  the  last  few  days  of  my  life  had  presented, 
up  in  their  descent  millions  of  red  sparks 
into  the  dark  air.  The  back  wall  of  the 
cabin  had  given  way  to  the  heat,  and 
through  its  wide  fissure  I  could  see  the  in- 
terior, now  one  mass  of  undistinguishable 
ruin  :  nothing  remained,  save  the  charred 
and  blackened  walls. 

I  sat  gazing  at   this  sad  sight  like  one 


CHAPTEK  VI. 


MY  EDUCATION. 


I  began  to  wonder  with  myself  whether  the 
world  always  went  on  thus:  and  if  the 
same  scenes  of  misery  and  wee  I  had  wit- 
nessed were  in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature. 
The  work  of  years  seemed  to  me  to  have 
been  accomplished  in  a  few  brief  hours. 
Here,  where  I  stood,  but  yesterday,  a  happy 
family  were  met  together  ;  and  now.  death 
entranced.  Sometimes  it  seemed  to  me  as  and  misfortune  had  laid  waste  the  spot  : 
a  terrible  dream  ;  and  then  the  truth  would  and,  save  the  cold  walls,  nothing  marked 
break  upon  me  with  fearful  force,  and  my  '  it  as  a  human  habitation.  What  had  he- 
heart  felt  as  though  it  would  bust  far  beyond  j  come  of  them  ?     Where  had  they  gone  to  ? 


my  bosom.  The  last  flickering  flame  died 
away ;  the  hissing  sounds  of  the  fire  were 
stilled  ;  and  the  dark  walls  stood  out  against 
the  bleak  background  in  all  their  horrible 
deformity,  as  I  rose  and  entered:  the  cabin. 
I  stood  within  the  little  room  where  I  had 
slept  the  night  before,  and  looked  out  into 
tbe  kitchen,  around  whose  happy  hearth 
the  merry  voices  were  so  lately  heard.  I 
brought  them  up  before  me,  in  imagination, 
as  they  sat  there.  One  by  one  I  marked 
their  places  in  my  mind,  and  thought  of 
the  kindness  of  their  welcome  to  me,  and 
the  words  of  comfort  and  encouragement 
they  spoke.  The  hearth  was  now  cold  and 
black  ;  the  pale  stars  looked  down  between 
tbe  walls,  and  a  chill  moonlight  flickered 


Had  they  fled  from  the  blood-stained  hands 
of  the  cruel  soldiery,  or  were  they  led  away 
to  prison  ?  These  were  the  questions  con- 
stantly recurring  to  my  mind.  And  the 
French  officer,  too- — what  of  him  ?  I  felt 
the  deepest  interest  in  his  fate.  Poor  fel- 
low !  he  looked  so  pale  and  sickly  :  and 
yet  there  was  something  both  bold  and 
manly  in  his  Hashing  eye  and  compressed 
lip.  He  was  doubtless  one  of  those  Darby 
alluded  to.  What  a  lot  was  his  ;  and  how 
little  did  my  own  sorrows  seem,  as  I  com- 
pared them  with  his  houseless,  friendless 
condition  !  As  my  thoughts  thus  wandered 
on,  a  dark  shadow  fell  across  the  gleam  cf 
moonlight  that  lit  up  the  ruined  cabin.  I 
turned  suddenly,  and  saw  tbe  figure  of  a 


through  the  gloomy  ruin.  My  heart  had  man  leaning  against  the  door-post.  For  a 
no  room  for  sorrow,  but  another  feeling  second  or  two  fear  was  uppermost  in  my 
found  a  place  within  it — a  savage  thirst  for  mind,  but  rallying  soon,  I  called  out, 
vengeance — vengeance  upon  those  who  had  I  "  Who's  there  ?' 


256 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


"  'Tis  me,  Darby  M'Keown,"  said  a  well- 
known  voice,  but  in  a  tone  of  deepest  sor- 
sow.  "  I  came  over  i<>  have  a  look  at  the 
on  Id  walls  once  more." 

"You  heard  n  all,  then,  Darby?" 

"  Yes.  They  wor  bringing  the  prisoners 
into  Athlone  as  1  left  I  he  town  ;  and  I 
thought  to  myself  you'd  maybe  be  hiding 
somewhere  hereabouts.  Is  the  captain  away 
— is  he  safe  ?  " 

"  The  French  officer — yes — he  escaped 
early  in  the  business.  I  know  he  must  be 
far  off  by  this  time.  Heaven  knows  which 
way  though." 

"Maybe  I  could  guess,"  said  Darby, 
quietly.  "Well,  well,  it's  hard  to  know 
what's  best.  Sometimes  it  would  seem  the 
will  of  God  that  we  aren't  to  succeed  ;  and, 
if  we  hadn't  right  on  our  side,  it  would  not 
be  easy  to  bear  up  against  such  misfortunes 
as  these." 

There  was  a  silence  on  both  sides  after 
these  words,  during  which  I  pondered  them 
well  in  my  mind. 

"  Come,  Master  Tom,"  said  Darby,  sud- 
denly ;  "  'tis  time  we  were  moving.  You're 
not  safe  here  no  more  nor  others.  Bas- 
set is  looking  for  you  everywhere,  and 
you'll  have  to  leave  the  neighborhood 
for  awhile,  at  least.  Your  friend,  the 
Captain,  too,  is  gone  ;  his  regiment  marched 
yesterday ;  so  now  make  up  your  mind 
what  to  do." 

"That's  easily  done,  Darby,"  said  I, 
attempting  to  seem  at  ease;  "whichever 
is  your  road  shall  be  mine,  if  you  let 
me." 

"  Let  you — yes,  with  a  hearty  welcome, 
too,  my  darling  ;  but  the  first  thing  is  to 
get  you  some  clothes  that  won't  discover 
on  you.  Here's  a  hat  I  squeezed  into  my 
own  that'll  just  fit  you,  and  I've  a  coat 
here  that's  about  your  size — that's  enough 
for  the  present,  and  as  we  go  along,  I'll 
teach  you  your  part,  how  you  are  to  be- 
have, and  he'll  be  no  fool  that'll  find  you 
out  after  ten  days  or  a  fortnight." 

My  change  of  costume  was  soon  effected, 
and  my  wound,  which  turned  out  to  be  a 
trifling  one,  looked  after;  I  took  a  fare- 
well look  at  the  old  walls,  and  stepped  after 
my  companion  down  the  boreen. 

"  If  we  make  haste,"  said  Darby,  "  we'll 
be  beyond  Shannon  harbor  before  day ; 
and  then,  when  we're  on  the  canal,  we'll 
easy  get  a  lift  in  s.ome  of  the  boats  going 
to  Dublin.-' 

"  And  are  you  for  Dublin  ?  "  inquired 
I,  eagerly. 

"  Yes.  I'm  to  be  there  on  the  twenty- 
fourth  of  this  month,  please  God.  There's 
a  meeting  of  the  friends  of  Ireland  to  be 


then,  and  some  resolutions  will  be  taken 
aboul  what's  to  be  done.  There's  bad  work 
going  on  in  the  Parliament." 

"  Indeed,  Darby  !  what  is  it  ?  " 

"Oh!  you  couldn't  understand  it  well: 
but  it's  just  as  if  we  warn't  to  have  any- 
thing to  say  to  governing  ourselves,  only 
be  made  slaves  of,  and  sent  abroad  to 
fight  for  the  English,  that  always  hate  us 
and  abuse  us." 

"  And  are  we  going  to  bear  with  this  ?  " 
cried  I,  passionately. 

"No,"  said  Darby,  laying  his  hand  on 
my  shoulder — "no,  not  at  least  if  we  had 
twenty  thousand  like  you,  my  brave  boy. 
But  you'll  hear  everything 'yourself  soon; 
and  now,  let  me  attend  to  your  education 
a  bit,  for  we're  not  out  of  the  enemy's 
country. " 

Darby  now  commenced  his  code  of  in- 
struction to  me,  by  which  I  learned  that  I 
was  to  perform  a  species  of  second  to  him 
in  all  minstrelsy — not  exactly  on  the  truest 
principles  of  harmony,  but  merely  alter- 
nating with  him  in  the  verses  of  his  songs. 
These,  which  were  entirely  of  his  own 
composition,  were  all  to  be  learned,  and. 
orally,  too,  for  Mr.  M'Keown  was  too  jeal- 
ous of  his  copyright  ever  to  commit  them 
to  writing,  and  especially  charged  me  never 
to  repeat  any  lyric  in  the  same  neighbor- 
hood. 

"It's  not  only  the  robbery  I  care  for," 
quoth  Darby,  "  but  the  varmint  desthroys 
my  poethry  completely — sometimes  chang- 
ing the  words,  injuring  the  sentiments, 
and  even  altering  the  tune.  Now  it's  only 
last  Tuesday  I  heerd  '  Behave  politely'  to 
the  tune  of  '  Look  how  he  sarved  me.'" 

Besides  the  musical  portion  of  my  edu- 
cation, there  was  another  scarcely  less  diffi- 
cult to  be  attended  to  :  this  was,  the  skill- 
ful adaptation  of  our  melodies  not  only  to 
the  prevailing  tastes  of  the  company,  but 
to  their  political  and  party  bearings — 
Darby  supplying  me  with  various  hints 
how  I  was  to  discover  at  a  moment  the 
peculiar  bias  of  any  stranger's  politics. 

"  The  boys,"  said  Darby,  thereby  mean' 
ing  his  own  party,  "  does  be  always  sly 
and  careful,  and-  begin  by  asking,  maybe, 
for  '  Do  you  incline  ? '  or  '  Crows  in  the 
barley,'  or  the  like.  Then  they'll  say, 
'Have  you  anything  new,  Mr.  M'Keown, 
from  up  the  counthry?'  '  Something 
sweet,  is  it  ?  '  says  I.  'Ay,  or  sour,  av  ye 
have  it,'  they'll  say.  'Maybe  ye'd  like 
Vinegar-hill,  then,'  says  I.  Arrah,  you'd 
see  their  faces  redden  up  with  delight,  and 
how  they'll  beat  time  to  every  stroke  of  the 
tune — it's  a  pleasure  to  play  for  them.  But 
the  yeos   (meaning  the  yeomen)  will  call 


mmmmmmm 


BARTON,  IT  a  BAD  TO  PROVOKE  A  MAN  WITH  A  HALTER  ROUND  HIS  NECK  !  I  KNOW 
WHAT  8  BEFORE  ME  WELL  ENOUGH  NOW.  BUT,  SEE,  LET  HIM  ESCAPE— GIVE  HIM  TWO 
HOURS  TO  GKT  AWAY— AND  HERE  ILL  SURRENDER  MYSELF  YOUR  PRISONER,  AND  FOLLOW 
YOU   WHERE   YOU   LIKE."      (P.  254.) 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OUBS." 


25? 


out  mightily — 'Piper — holloa  there,  piper, 
I  pay — rise  the  Boyne  water,  or  Oroppiea 
lie  down.' " 

"And,  of  course,  you  refuse,  Darby  ?" 

"Refuse  refuse,  is  it— and  get  a  bayo- 
net in  me  !  Devil  a  bit,  my  dear.  Ill  play 
it  up  with  all  the  spirit  1  can  ;  and  nod 
my  head  to  the  tunc,  and  beat  the  time 
with  my  heel  and  toe  ;  and,  maybe,  ii  J.  see 
need  of  it,  I  fasten  this  to  the  end  of  the 
chanter,  and  that  does  the  business  en- 
tirely."' 

Here  Darby  took  from  the  lining  of  his 
hat  a  bunch  of  orange  ribbon,  whose  laded 
glories  showed  it.  had  done  long  and  active 
service  in  the  cause  of  loyalty. 

I  confess  Darby's  influence  over  me  did 
not  gain  any  accession  of  power  by  this 
honest  avowal  of  his  political  expediency  ; 
and  the  bold  assertion  of  a  nation's  wrongs, 
by  which  at  first  he  won  over  my  enthusi- 
asm, seemed  sadly  at  variance  with  this 
truckling  policy.  He  was  quick-sighted 
enough  to  perceive  what  was  passing  in  my 
mind,  and  at  once  remarked  : 

"  'Tis  a  hard  part  we're  obliged  to  play, 
Master  Tom,  but  one  comfort  we  have — 
it's  only  a  short  time  we'll  need  it.  You 
know  the  song  ?  " 

Here  he  broke  into  the  popular  tune  of 
the  day  : 

'  '  And  the  French  will  come  again, 
Says  the  Shan  van  vaugh, 

And  they'll  bring  ten  thousand  men, 
Says  the  Shan  van  vaugh, 

And,  with  powder  and  with  ball, 

For  our  rights  we'll  loudly  call  ; 

Don't  you  think  they'll  hear  us  then  ? 
Says  the  Shan  van  vaugh.' 

"  Ye  must  larn  that  air,  Master  Tom  ; 
and  see,  now,  the  yeos  is  as  fond  of  it  as 
the  boys,  only  remember  to  put  their  own 
words  to  it ;  and  devil  a  harm  in  that 
same  when  one's  not  in  earnest.  See,  now, 
I  believe  it's  a  natural  pleasure  for  an  Irish- 
man to  be  humbugging  somebody  ;  and, 
faix,  when  there's  nobody  by,  he'd  rather 
be  taking  a  rise  out  of  himself  than  doing 
nothing.  It's  the  way  that's  in  us,  God 
help  us  !  Sure  it's  that  same  makes  us 
eich  favorites  with  the  ladies,  and  gives 
us  a  kind  of  native  janius  for  coortin' : 

'  'Tis  the  look  of  his  eye, 

And  a  way  he  can  sigh, 
Makes  Paddy  a  darlin'  wherever  he  goes. 

With  a  sugary  brogue, 

Ye'd  hear  the  rogue 
Cheat  the  girls  before  their  nose.' 

And  why  not  ?  —  Don't  they  like  to  be 
chated,  when  they're  sure  to  win  after  all 

VOL.  I.— 17 


— to  win  a  warm  heart  and. a  stout  arm  to 
for  them  'i  "  , 

This  species  of  logic  I  give  as  a  speci- 
men of  Mister  M'Keown's  power  of,  if  not 
explaining  away  a  difficulty,  at  Least,  get- 
ting "Hi  of  all  reach  of  il — an  attribute 
almosl  as  Irish  as  the  cause  il  was  em] 
to  defend. 

As  we  journeyed   along,    Darby   main- 
tained a  stricl  reserve  as  to  the  even!  which 
had  required  his  presence  in  Athlone.  nor 
allude  to  the  .Major  but  passingly, 
observing  that  — 

"Hedidn'1  know  how  it  happened  that 
a  Dublin  magistrate  should  have  come  up 
to  these  parts,  though,  to  be  Bure,  I 
great  friend  of  the  Righl  Honorable." 

"  And  who  is  he  ?  "asked  I. 

"The   Righl    Honorable  !      Don'i 
know,   then?     Why,  I  didn't  think  there 
was  a  child  in  the  county  couldn't  tell  that. 
Sure,  it's  Denis  Browne  himself." 

The  name  seemed  at  once  to 
whole  flood  of  recollections,  and  Darby  ex- 
patiated for  hours  long  on  the  terrible 
power  of  a  man,  by  whose  hands  life  and 
death  were  distributed,  without  any  aid 
from  judge  or  jury — thus  opening  to  me 
another  chapter  of  the  lawless  tyranny  to 
which  he  was  directing  my  attention,  and 
by  which  he  already  saw  my  mind  was 
great!  y  influenced. 

About  an  hour  after  daybreak  we  arrived 
at  a  small  cabin,  which  served  as  a  lock- 
house  on' the  canal-side.  It  needed  not  the 
cold,  murky  sky,  nor  the  ceaseless  pattering 
of  the  rain,  to  make  this  place  look  more 
comfortless  and  miserable  than  anything  I 
had  ever  beheld.  Around,  for  miles  in 
extent,  the  country  was  one  unbroken  Mat, 
without  any  trace  of  wood,  or  even  a  single 
thorn  hedge,  to  relieve  the  eye.  Low, 
marshy  meadows,  where  the  rank  naggers 
and  reedy  grass  grew  tall  and  luxuriant, 
with  here  and  there  some  stray  patches  of 
tillage,  were  girt  round  by  vast  plains  of 
bog,  cut  up  into  every  variety  of  trench 
and  pit.  The  cabin  itself,  though  slated 
and  built  of  stone,  was  in  bad  repair,  the 
roof  broken  in  many  places,  and  the  win- 
dow mended  with  pieces  of  board,  and 
even  straw.  As  we  came  close,  Darby  re- 
marked that  there  was  no  smoke  from  the 
chimney,  and  that  the  door  was  fastened 
on  the  outside. 

"That  looks  bad,"  said  he,  as  he  slopped 
short  about  a  dozen  paces  from  the  hovel, 
and  looked  steadily  at  it;  "they've  taken 
him  too." 

"Who  is  it,  Darby?"  said  I.  "'What 
did  he  do  ?" 

M'Keown  paid  no  attention  to  my  ques- 


258 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


tion,  but  unfastening  the  hasp  which  at- 
tached the  door,  without  any  padlock, 
entered.  The  fire  was  yet  alive  on  the 
hearth,  and  a  small  stool,  drawn  close  to 
it,  showed  where  some  one  had  been  sit- 
ting ;  there  was  nothing  unusual  in  the 
appearance  of  the  cabin  ;  the  same  humble 
furniture  and  cooking  utensils  lying  about, 
as  were  seen  in  any  other.  Darby,  how- 
ever, scrutinized  everything  most  carefully, 
looking  everywhere,  and  into  everything, 
till,  at  last,  reaching  his  hand  above  the 
door,  he  pulled  out  from  the  straw  of  the 
thatch  a  small  piece  of  dirty  and  crumpled 
paper,  which  he  opened  with  the  greatest 
care  and  attention ;  and  then  flattening  it 
out  with  his  hand,  began  to  read  it  over  to 
himself,  his  eye  flashing,  and  his  cheek 
growing  redder,  as  he  pored  over  it.  At 
last  he  broke  silence  with, 

"  'Tis  myself  never  doubted  ye,  Tim,  my 
boy.  Look  at  that,  Master  Tom — but  sure, 
you  wouldn't  understand  it,  after  all.  The 
yeos  took  him  up  last  night.  'Tis  some- 
thing about  cutting  the  canal,  and  attack- 
ing the  boat,  that's  again  him  ;  and  he  left 
that  there — that  bit  of  paper — to  give  the 
boys  courage  that  he  wouldn't  betray  them. 
That's  the  way  the  cause  will  prosper — if 
we'll  only  stick  by  each  other.  For  many 
a  time,  when  they  take  a  man  up,  they 
spread  it  about  that  he's  turned  informer 
against  the  rest,  and  then  the  others  gets 
careless,  and  don't  mind  whether  they're 
taken  or  not." 

Darby  replaced  the  piece  of  paper  care- 
fully, and  then,  listening  for  a  moment, 
exclaimed, 

"  I  hear  the  boat  coming. ;  let's  wait  for 
it  outside." 

While  he  employed  himself  in  getting 
his  pipes  into  readiness,  I  could  not  help 
ruminating  on  the  strength  of  loyalty  to 
each  other  the  poor  people  observed  amid 
every  temptation  and  every  seduction  ; 
how,  in  the  midst  of  such  misery  as  theirs, 
neither  threats  nor  bribery  seemed  to  influ- 
ence them,  was  a  strong  testimony  in  favor 
of  their  "truth,  and  to  such  a  reason  er  as  I 
was,  a  no  less  cogent  argument  for  the 
goodness  of  the  cause  that  elicited  such 
virtues. 

As  the  boat  came  alongside,  I  remarked 
that  the  deck  was  without  a  passanger ; 
heaps  of  trunks  and  luggage  littered  it  the 
entire  way  ;  but  the  severity  of  the  weather 
had  driven  every  one  under  cover,  except 
the  steersman  and  the  captain,  who,  both 
of  them  wrapped  up  in  thick  coats  of 
frieze,  seemed  like  huge  bears  standing  on 
their  hind-quarters. 

"  How   are  you,  Darby  ?  "  shouted  the 


skipper  ;  "  call  out  that  lazy  rascal  to  open 
the  lock." 

.  "I  don't  think  he's  at  home,  sir,"  said 
Darby,  as  innocently  as  though  he  knew 
nothing  of  the  reason  for  his  absence. 

"  Not  at  home  !— the  scoundrel,  whore 
can  he  be,  then  ?  Come  youngster,"  cried 
he,  addressing  me,  "take  the  key  there, 
and  open  the  lock." 

Until  this  moment,  I  forgot  the  charac- 
ter which  my  dress  and  appearance  assign- 
ed to  me  ;  but  a  look  from  the  piper  re- 
called me  at  once  to  recollection  ;  and, 
taking  up  the  iron  key,  I  proceeded,  under 
Darby's  instructions,  to  do  what  1  was  de- 
sired, while  Darby  and  the  captain  amused 
themselves  by  wondering  what  had  become 
of  Tim,  and  speculated  on  the  immediate 
consequences  his  absence  would  bring  down 
on  him. 

"  Are  you  going  with  us,  Darby  ?"  said 
the  captain. 

"Faix,  I  don't  know,  sir,"  said  he,  as  if 
hesitating;  "av  there  was  any  gentleman 
that  liked  the  pipes " 

"Yes,  yes,  come  along,  man,"  rejoined 
the  skipper  ;  "is  the  boy  with  you  ? — very 
well — come  in,  youngster." 

We  were  soon  under  weigh  again  ;  and 
Darby,  having  arranged  his  instrument  to 
his  satisfaction,  commenced  a  very  spirited 
voluntary  to  announce  his  arrival.  '  In  an 
instant  the  cabin-door  opened,  and  a  red- 
faced,  coarse-looking  fellow,  in  uniform, 
called  out, 

"  Holloa,  there  !  is  that  a  piper  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Darby,  without  turning 
his  face  round,  while,  at  the  same  time,  he 
put  a  question,  in  Irish,  to  the  skipper, 
who  answered  it  with  a  single  word. 

"I  say,  piper,  come  down  here  !"  cried 
the  yeoman,  for  such  he  was — "  come 
down  here,  and  let's  have  a  tune  ! " 

"I'm  coming,  sir,"  cried  Darby,  stand- 
ing up  ;  and  holding  out  his  hand  to  me,  he 
called  out,  "Tom,  alannah,  lead  me  down 
stairs." 

I  looked  up  in  his  face,  and,  to  my 
amazement,  perceived  that  he  had  turned 
up  the  white  of  his  eyes,  to  represent  blind- 
ness, and  was  groping  with  his  hand,  like 
one  deprived  of  sight. 

As  any  hesitation  on  my  part  might  have 
betrayed  him  at  once,  I  took  his  hand,  and 
led  him  along,  step  by  step,  to  the  cabin  • 
door.  I  had  barely  time  to  perceive  that 
all  the  passengers  were  habited  in  uniform, 
when  one  of  them  called  out, 

"We  don't  want  the  young  fellow;  let 
him  go  back.     Piper,  sit  down  here." 

The  motion  for  my  exclusion  was  passed 
without  a  negative,  and  I  closed  the  door, 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


259 


and  sat  down  by  myself  among  the  trunks 
on  deck. 

For  the  remainder  of  the  day  I  saw  noth- 
ing of  Darby  ;  the  shouts  of  laughter  and 
clapping  of  hands  helow  stairs  occasionally 
informing  me  how  successful  were  his  ef- 
forts to  amuse  his  company;  while  I  had 
abundant  time  to  think  over  my  own  flans, 
and  make  some  resolutions  for  the  future. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


KEVIN  STREET. 


How  this  long,  melancholy  day  wore  on 
I  cannot  say  ;  to  me  it  was  as  gloomy  in 
reverie  as  in  its  own  dismal  aspect  ;  the 
very  sounds  of  mirth  that  issued  from  the 
cabin  beneath  grated  harshly  on  my  car  ; 
and  the  merry  strains  of  Darby's  pipes  and 
the  clear  notes  of  his  rich  voice  seemed  like 
treachery  from  one,  who  so  lately  had  spo- 
ken in  terms  of  heart-breathing  emotion  of 
his  countrymen  and  their  wrongs.  While, 
therefore,  my  estimation  for  my  compan- 
ion suffered,  my  sorrow  for  the  cause  that 
demanded  such  sacrifices  deepened  at  every 
moment,  and  I  panted  with  eagerness  for 
the  moment  when  I  might  take  my  place 
among  the  bold  defenders  of  my  country, 
and  openly  dare  our  oppressors  to  the  bat- 
tle. All  that  M'Keown  had  told  me  of 
English  tyranny  and  oppression  was  con- 
nected in  my  mind  with  the.dreadful  scene 
I  had  so  lately  been  a  witness  to,  and  for 
the  cause  of  which  Hooked  no  further  than 
an  act  of  simple  hospitality.  From  this  I 
wandered  on  to  the  thought  of  those  brave 
allies  who  had  deserted  their  career  of  con- 
tinental glory  to  share  our  almost  hopeless 
fortunes  here  ;  and  how  I  burned  to  know 
them,  and  learn  from  them  something  of  a 
soldier's  ardor. 

Night  had  fallen,  when  the  fitful  flash- 
ing of  lamps  between  the  tall  elms  that 
lined  the  banks  announced  our  approach  to 
the  capital.  There  is  something  dread- 
fully depressing  in  the  aspect  of  a  large  city 
to  the  poor,  unfriended  youth,  who,  with- 
out house  or  home,  is  starting  upon  his 
life's  journey.  The  stir,  the  movement, 
the  onward  tide  of  population,  intent  on 
pleasure  or  business,  are  things  in  which 
he  has  no  part.  The  appearance  of  wealth 
humiliates,  while  the  sight  of  poverty  af- 
frights him  ;  and,  while  every  one  is  ani- 
mated by  some  purpose,  he  alone  seems 
like  a  waif  thrown  on  the  shores  of  life, 
unclaimed,*  unlookcd  for.  Thus  did  I  feel 
among  that  busy  crowd  who  now  pressed 


to  the  deck,  gathering  together  their  lug- 
gage, and  preparing  for  departure.  Some 
home  awaited  each  of  these-  some  h<  arth, 
some  happy  faces  to  greel  their  coming' 
but  I  had  none  of  these.  This  was  a  sor- 
rowful thought  ;  and  as  I  brooded  over  it, 

my  bead  sank  upon  my  knees,  and  1  -an 
nothing  of  what  was  going  forward  about 
me. 

"Tom,"  whispered   a   Low  voice  in  my 

ear — "Master  Tom,  don't  delay,  my  dear; 
let  us  slip  out  here.  The  soldiers  want  me 
to  go  with  them  to  their  billets,  and  1 
have  promised  ;  but  I  don't  mean  to  do 
it." 

I  looked  up.  It  was  Darby,  buttoned 
up  in  his  coat,  his  pipes  unfastened  for  the 
convenience  of  carriage. 

"  Slip  out  after  me  at  the  lock  here.  It's 
so  dark,  we'll  never  be  seen." 

Keeping  my  eye  on  him,  I  elbowed  my 
way  through  the  crowded  deck,  and  sprang 
out  just  as  the  boat  began  her  forward 
movement. 

"  Here  we  are,  all  safe,"  said  Darby, 
patting  me  on  the  shoulder;  "and  now 
that  I've  time  to  ask  you,  did  you  get  your 
dinner,  my  child  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  the  captain  brought  me 
something  to  eat." 

"Come,  that's  right,  anyhow.  Glory  be 
to  God  !  I  ate  heartily  of  some  bacon  and 
greens  ;  though  the  blackguards — bad  luck 
to  them  for  the  same — made  me  eat  an 
orange-lily  whole,  afraid  the  greens,  as  they 
said,  might  injure  me." 

"I  wonder,  Darby,"  said  I,  "that  you 
haven't  more  firmness  than  to  change  this 
way  at  every  moment." 

"  Firmness,  is  it  ?  Faith,  it's  firm 
enough  I'd  be,  and  stiff  too,  if  I  didn't. 
Sure  it's  the  only  way  now  at  all.  Wait, 
my  honey,  till  the  time  comes  round  for 
ourselves',  and,  faith,  you'll  never  accuse 
me  of  coorting  their  favor  ;  but  now,  at 
this  moment,  you  perceive,  we  must  do  it 
to  learn  their  plans.  What  do  you  think  I 
got  to-night  ?  I  learned  all  the  sign-  the 
yeos  have  when  they're  drinking  together, 
and  what  they  say  at  each  sign.  There's  a 
way  they  have  of  gripping  the  two  little 
lingers  together  that  I'll  not  forget  soon." 

For  some  time  we  walked  on  at  a  rapid 
pace,  without  exchanging  more  than  an 
occasional  word.  At  last  we  entered  a 
narrow,  ill-lighted  street,  which  led  from 
the  canal  harbor  to  one  of  the  larger  and 
wider  thoroughfares. 

"I  almost  forget  the  way  here."  said 
Darby,  stopping,  and  looking  about  him. 
At  last,  unable  to  solve  the  difficulty,  he 
leaned  over  the  half-door  of  a   shop,  and 


260 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


called  out  to  a  man  within,  "  Can  you  tell 
where  is  Kevin  street  ?  " 

"No.  3!)  ?"  said  the  man,  after  looking 
at  him  steadily  for  a-  moment. 

Darby  stroked  down  one  side  of  his  face 
with  his  baud  slowly,  a  gesture  immedi- 
ately i  mi  fated  by  the  other  man.     . 

"  What  do  you  know  ?  "  said  Darby. 

"  I  know  ' U.,'"  replied  the  man. 

"And  what  more  ?" 

"I  know  <1S."\ 

"  That'll  do,"  said  Darby,  shaking  hands 
with  him  cordially.  "  Now,  tell  me  the 
way,  for  I  have  no  time  to  spare." 

"Begorra  !  you're  in  as  great  haste  as  if 
ye  were  Darby  the  Blast  himself.  Ye'll 
come  in  and  take  a  glass  ?  " 

Darby  only  laughed  ;  and  again  excusing 
himself,  he  asked  the  way,  which  having 
learned,  he  wished  his  newly-made  friend 
good-night,  and  we  proceeded. 

"  They  know  you  well  hereabouts,  by 
name,  at  least,"  said  I,  when  we  had  walked 
on  a  little. 

"  That  they  do,"  said  Darby,  proudly. 
"  From  Wexford  to  Belfast  there's  few 
doesn't  know  me  ;  and  they'll  know  more 
of  me,  av  I'm  right,  before  I  die." 

This  he  spoke  with  more  of  determina- 
tion than  I  ever  heard  him  use  previously. 

"Here's  the  street,  now.  There's  the 
lamp — that  one  with .  the  two  burners 
there.  Faix,  we've  made  good  track  since 
morning,  anyhow. " 

As  he  spoke  we  entered  a  narrow  passage, 
through  which  the  street-lamp  threw  a 
dubious  half-light.  This  conducted  us  to 
to  a^mall  paved  court,  crossing  which  we 
arrived  at  the  door  of  a  large  house.  Darby 
knocked  in  a  peculiar  manner,  and  the  door 
was  speedily  opened  by  a  man,  who  whis- 
pered something,  to  which  M'Keown  made 
answer  in  the  same  low  tone. 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  you  again,"  said  the 
man,  louder,  as  he  made  way  for  him  to  pass. 

I  pushed  forward  to  follow,  when  sud- 
denly a  strong  arm  was  stretched  across 
my  breast,  and  a  gruff  voice  asked, 

"  Who  are  you  ?  " 

Darby  stepped  back,  and  said  something 
in  his  ear  ;  the  other  replied,  sturdily,  in 
the  negative.  And  although  Darby,  as  it 
appeared,  used  every  power  of  persuasion 
he  possessed,  the  man  was  inexorable.  At 
last,  when  the  temper  of  both  appeared  near- 
ly giving  way,  Darby  turned  to  me,  and  said, 

"Wait  for  me  a  moment,  Tom,  where 
you  are,  and  I'll  come  for  you." 

So  saying,  he  disappeared,  and  the  door 
closed  at  the  same  time,  leaving  me  in 
darkness  on  the  outside.  My  patience  was 
not  severely  taxed — ere  live  minutes  the 


door  opened,  and  Darby,  followed  by  an- 
other person,  appeared. 

"Mr.  Burke,"  said  this  latter,  with  the 
tone  of  voice  that  at  once  bespoke  a  gen- 
tleman, "lam  proud  to  know  you."  lie 
grasped  my  band  warmly  as  he  spoke,  and 
shook  it  affectionately;  "I  esteem  it  an 
honor  to  be  your  sponsor  here.     Can  you 


find  your  way  after   me 


but  I  trust 


This   place 

you'll   know 


never  lighted  ; 
better  ere  long 

Muttering  some  words  of  acknowledg- 
ment, I  followed  my  unseen  acquaintance 
along  the  dark  corridor. 

"There's  a  step  here,"  cried  he,  "and 
now  mind  the  stairs." 

A  long  and  winding  flight  conducted  us 
to  a  landing,  where  a  candle  was  burning 
in  a  tin  sconce.  Here  my  conductor  turned 
j  round. 

"  Your  Christian  name  is  Thomas,  I  be- 
lieve," said  he ;  at  the  same  moment,  as 
the  light  fell  on  me,  he  started  suddenly 
back,  with  an  air  of  mingled  astonishment 
and  chagrin.  "Why,  M'Keown,  you  told 
me — "  The  rest  of  the  sentence  was  lost  in 
a  whisper. 

"  It's  a  disguise  I  made  him  wear,"  said 
Darby;  "he'd  no  chance  of  escaping  the 
country  without  it." 

"I'm  not  speaking  of  that,"  retorted  the 
other  angrily.  "It  is  bis  age,  I  mean — 
he's  only  a  boy.  How  old  are  you,  sir  ?  " 
continued  he,  addressing  me,  but  with  far 
less  courtesy  than  before. 

"  Old  enough  to  live  for  my  country,  or 
die  for  it  either,  if  need  be,"  said  I  haught- 

"Bravo,  my  darling,"  cried  the  piper, 
slapping  me  on  the  shoulder  with  enthu- 
siasm. 

"  That's  not  exactly  my  question,"  said 
the  stranger,  smiiing  good-naturedly;  "I 
want  to  know  your  age." 

"  I  was  fourteen  in  August,"  said  I. 

"I  had  rather  you  could  say  twenty," 
responded  he  though  tf ully.  ' '  This  is  a  sad 
mistake  of  yours,  Darby.  What  depend- 
ence can  be  placed  on  a  child  like  this  ? 
He's  only  a  child  after  all." 

"  He's  a  child  I'll  go  bail  for  with  my 
head,"  said  Darby. 

"  Your  head  has  fully  as  much  on  it  as 
it  is  fit  to  carry,"  said  the  other,  in  a  tone 
of  rebuke.  "Have  you  told  him  anything 
of  the  object  and  intentions  of  this  society? 
But  of  course  you  have  revealed  everything. 
Well,  I'll  not  be  a  party  to  this  business. 
Young  gentleman,"  continued  he,  in  a 
voice  of  earnest  and  impressive  accent, 
"  all  I  know  of  you  is  the  few  -particulars 
this  man  has  stated  respecting  your   uu- 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


261 


friended  position,  and  the  cruelty  to  winch 
you  fear  to  expose  yourself  in  trusting  to 
the  guardianship  of  Mr.  Basset.  If  these 
reasons  have  induced  you,  from  reckless- 
ness and  indifference,  to  risk  your  life,  by 
association  with  men  who  are  actuated  by 
high  ami  noble  principles,  then,  I  say,  you 
shall  not  enter  here.  If,  however,  awareof 
the  ohject  and  intent  ions  of  our  union,  von 
are  desirous  to  aid  us,  young  though  you 
be,  I  shall  not  refuse  you." 

"  That's  it,"  interrupted  Darby,  "  if  you 
feel  in  your  heart  a  friend  to  your  coun- 
try—" 

"  Silence  ! "  said  the  other  harshly  ;  "  let 
him  decide  for  himself." 

"  I  neither  know  your  intentions,  nor 
even  guess  at  them,"  said  I,  frankly.  "  My 
destitution,  and  the  poor  prospect  before 
me,  make  me,  as  you  suppose,  indifferent 
to  what  I  embark  m,  provided  that  it  be 
not  dishonorable.  It  is  not  danger  will 
deter  me,  that's  all  lean  promise  you." 

"I  see,"  said  the  stranger,  "  this  is  but 
another  of  your  pranks,  Mr.  M'Keown. 
The  young  gentleman  was  to  be  kidnapped 
amongst  us.  One  thing,"  said  he,  turning 
to  me,  "  I  feel  assured  of,  that  anything  you 
have  witnessed  here  is  safe  within  your 
keeping,  and  now  we'll  not  press  the  mat- 
ter further ;  in  a  few  days  you  can  hear, 
and  make  up  your  mind  on  all  these  things, 
and,  as  you  are  not  otherwise  provided,  let 
us  make  you  our  guest  in  the  meanwhile." 

Without  giving  me  time  to  reply,  he  led 
me  down-stairs  again,  and,  unlocking  a 
door  on  the  second  floor,  passed  through 
several  rooms,  until  he  reached  one  com- 
fortably fitted  -up  like  a  study. 

*'  You  must  be  satisfied  with  a  sofa  here 
for  to-night,  but  to-morrow  I  will  make 
you  more  comfortable." 

I  threw  my  eyes  over  the  well-filled  book- 
shelf with  delight,  and  wTas  preparing  to 
thank  him  for  all  his  kindness  to  me,  when 
he  added, 

"  I  must  leave  you  now,  but  we'll  meet 
to-morrow  ;  so  good-night.  Come  along, 
M'Keown,  Ave  shall  want  you  presently." 

I  would  gladly  have  detained  Darby  to 
interrogate  him  about  my  new  abode  and 
its  inhabitants,  but  he  was  obliged  to  obey, 
and  I  heard  the  door  locked,  as  they  closed 
it,  on  the  outside  ;  and  shortly  after  the 
sounds  of  their  feet  died  away,  and  I  was 
left  in  silence. 

Determined  to  con  over,  and,  if  possible, 
explain  to  myself  the  mystery  of  my  posi- 
tion, I  drew  my  sofa  toward  the  fire  and 
sat  down,  but  fatigue,  stronger  than  all  my 
curiosity,  had  the  mastery,  and  I  was  soon 
sound  asleep. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

NO.   39,   AND    ITS    FREQUENTERS. 

When  my  eyes  opened  the  following 
morning,  it  was  quite  pardonable  in  me  if 

I  believed  I  was  still  dreaming.  The  room, 
which  I  had  scarcely  time  to  look  at  the 
previous  evening,  now  appeared  handsome- 
ly, almost  richly  furnished.  Books  in 
handsome  bindings  covered  the  -he] 
prints  m  gilded  frames  occupied  the  walls, 
and  a  huge  mirror  filled  the  space  above 
the  chimney.  Various  little  articles  of 
taste,  in  bronze  and  marble,  were  scattered 
about,  and  a  silver  tea  equipage,  of  an- 
tique pattern,  graced  a  small  table  near  the 
fire.  A  pair  of  splendidly  mounted  pistols 
hung  at  one  side  of  the  chimney  glass,  and 
a  gorgeously  gilt  sabre  occupied  the  other. 

While  I  took  a  patient  survey  of  all  I 
and  was  deliberately  examining  myself  as 
to  how  and  when  I  had  first  made  their 
acquaintance,  a  voice  from  an  adjoining 
room,  the  door  of  which  lay  open,  exclaim- 
ed, 

" Sacristi!  quel  mauvais  temps ! "  and 
then  broke  out  into  a  little  French  air.  to 
which,  after  a  minute,  the  singer  appeared 
to  move,  in  a  kind  of  dancing  measure. 
'•  Oui,  cest  (■a!"  exclaimed  he,  in  rap- 
ture, as  he  whirled  round  in  a  pirouette, 
overturning  a  dressing-table  and  its  con- 
tents with  a  tremendous  crash  upon  the 
floor. 

I  started  up,  and,  without  thinking  of 
what  I  was  doing,  rushed  in. 

"  Ha!  bon  jour,"  said  he,  gayly,  stretch- 
ing out  two  fingers  of  a  hand  almost  con- 
cealed beneath  a  mass  of  rings  ;  and  then 
suddenly  changing  to  English,  which  he 
spoke  perfectly,  saving  with  a  foreign  ac- 
cent, "How  did  you  sleep?  I  sup] 
the  tintamarre  awoke  you."' 

I  hastened  to  apologize  for  my  intrusion, 
which  he  stopped  at  once  by  asking  if  I 
had  passed  a  comfortable  night,  and  had  a 
great  appetite  for  breakfast. 

Assuring  him  of  both  facts,  I  retreated 
into  the  sitting-room,  where  he  followed 
me,  laughing  heartily  at  his  mishap,  which 
he  confessed  he  had  not  patience  to  remedy. 
"And  what's  worse,"  added  he,  "I  have 
no  servant.  But  here's  some  tea  and  cof- 
fee— let  us  chat  while  we  eat." 

I  drew  over  mv  chair  at  his  invitation, 
and  found  myself,  before  half  an  hour 
went  by,  acted'  on  by  that  strange  magnet- 
ism which  certain  individuals  possess,  to 
detail  to  my  new  friend  the  principal 
events  of  my  simple  story,  down  to  the 
very  moment  in  which  we  sat  opposite  to 


2G2 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


each  other.  He  listened  to  me  with  the 
greatest  attention,  occasionally  interposing 
a  question,  or  asking  an  explanation  of 
something  which  he  did  not  perfectly  com- 
prehend ;  and  when  I  concluded,  he  paused 
for  some  minutes,  and  then,  with  a  slight 
laugh,  said  : 

"  You  don't  know  how  you  disappointed 
the  people  here.  Your  traveling  companion 
had  given  them  to  understand  that  you 
were  some  other  Burke,  whose  alliance 
they  have  been  long  desiring.  In  fact,  they 
were  certain  of  it;  but,"  said  he,  starting 
up  hastily,  "  it  is  far  better  as  it  is.  I 
suspect,  my  young  friend,  the  way  in 
which  you  have  been  entrapped.  Don't 
fear  ;  we  are  perfectly  safe  here.  I  know 
all  the  hackneyed  declamations  about 
wrongs  and  slavery  that  are  in  vogue,  and 
I  know,  too,  how  timidly  they  shrink  from 
every  enterprise  by  which  their  cause  might 
be  honorably,  boldly  asserted.  I  am  my- 
self another  victim  to  the  assumed  patriot- 
ism of  this  party.  I  came  over  here  two 
years  since  to  take  a  command.  A  com- 
mand— but  in  what  an  army  !  An  undis- 
ciplined rabble,  without  arms,  without  offi- 
cers, without  even  clothes — their  only  no- 
tion of  warfare  a  midnight  murder,  or  a 
reckless  and  indiscriminate  slaughter.  The 
result  could  not  be  doubtful — utter  defeat 
and  discomfiture.  My  countrymen,  dis- 
gusted at  the  scenes  they  witnessed,  and 
ashamed  of  such  confrerie,  accepted  the 
amnesty,  and  returned  to  France.     I — " 

Here  he  hesitated,  and  blushed  slightly  ; 
after  which  he  resumed  : 

"  I  yielded  to  a  credulity  for  which  there 
was  neither  reason  nor  excuse.  I  re- 
mained. Promises  were  made  me,  oaths 
were  sworn,  statements  were  produced  to 
show  how  complete  the  organization  of 
the  insurgents  really  was,  and  to  what  pur- 
pose it  might  be  turned.  I  drew  up  a  plan 
of  a  campaign,  corresponded  with  the  dif- 
ferent leaders,  encouraged  the  wavering, 
restrained  the  headstrong,  confirmed  the 
hesitating,  and,  in  fact,  for  fourteen 
months  held  them  together,  not  only 
against  their  opponents,  but  their  own  more 
dangerous  disunion  ;  and  the  end  is — what 
think  you  ?  I  only  learned  it  yesterday, 
on  my  return  from  an  excursion  in  the 
west,  which  nearly  cost  me  my  life.  I  was 
concealed  in  a  cabin  in  woman's  clothes — " 
"  At  Malone's,  in  the  Glen  ?  " 
"  Yes  ;  how  did  you  know  that  ?  *' 
' '  I  was  there.  I  saw  you  captured,"  and 
witnessed  your  escape." 

"  Diantre  !     How  near  it  was  !  " 
He  paused  for  a  second,  and  I  took  the 
opportunity  to  recount  to  him  the  dreadful 


issue  of  the  scene,  with  the  burning  of  the 
cabin.  He  grew  sickly  pale  as  I  related 
the  circumstance  ;  then  flushing  as  quickly, 
he  exclaimed, 

"  We  must  look  to  this  ;  these  people 
must  be  taken  care  of.  I'll  speak  to  Dal- 
ton — you  know  him  ?  " 

"No  ;  I  know  not  one  here." 

"It  was  he  who  met  you  last  night ;  he 
is  a  noble  fellow.  But  stay,  .there's  a 
knock  at  the  door." 

He  approached  the  fireplace,  and,  taking 
down  the  pistols  which  hung  beside  it, 
walked  slowly  toward  the  door. 

"  Tis  Darby,  sir — Darby  the  Blast,  com- 
ing to  speak  a  word  to  Mister  Burke,"  said 
a  voice  from  without. 

The  door  was  opened  at  once,  and  Dar- 
by entered.  Making  a  deep  reverence  to 
the  French  officer,  in  whose  presence  lie 
seemed  by  no  means  at  his  ease,  Darby 
dropped  his  voice  to  its  most  humble  ca- 
dence, and  said, 

"  Might  I  be  so  bould  as  to  have  a  word 
with  ye,  Master  Tom  ?  " 

There  was  something  in  the  way  this 
request  was  made  that  seemed  to  imply  a 
desire  for  secrecy — so,  at  least,  the  French- 
man understood  it — and  turning  hastily 
round,  he  said, 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure  ;  I'll  go  into  my  dress- 
ing-room ;  there  is  nothing  to  prevent  your 
speaking  here." 

No  sooner  was  the  door  closed,  than 
Darby  drew  a  chair  close  to  me,  and,  bend- 
ing down  his  head,  whispered, 

"  Don't  trust  him — not  from  here  to  that 
window  ;  they're  going  to  do  it  without 
him — Mahony  told  me  so  himself  :  but  my 
name  was  not  drawn,  and  I'm  to  be  off  to 
Kildare  this  evening.  There's  a  meeting  of 
the  boys  at  the  Curragh,  and  I  want  you  to 
come  with  me." 

The  state  of  doubt  and  uncertainty 
which  had  harassed  my  mind  for  the  last 
twenty-four  hours  was  no  longer  tolerable  ; 
so  I  boldly  asked  M'Keown  for  an  explana- 
tion as  to  the  people  in  whose  house  1  was, 
their  objects  and  plans,  and  how  far  I  was 
myself  involved  in  their  designs. 

In  fewer  words  than  I  could  convey  it, 
Darby  informed  me  that  the  house  was  the 
meeting-place  of  the  United  Irishmen,  who 
still  cherished  the  hope  of  reviving  the 
scenes  of  '98  ;  that,  conscious  .the  failure 
before  was  attributable  to  their  having 
taken  the  field  as  an  army  when  they 
should  have  merely  contented  themselves 
with  secret  and  indirect  attacks,  they  had 
resolved  to  adopt  a  different  tactique.  It 
was,  in  fact,  determined  that  every  polit- 
ical  opponent   to    their   party   should  be 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


263 


marked — himself,  his  family,  and  his  prop- 
erty ;  that  no  opportunity  was  to  ho  lost  of 
injuring  him  or  his,  and,  it'  need  lie,  of 
taking  away  his  life  ;  that  various  measures 
were  to  he  propounded  to  Parliament  by 
their  friends,  to  the  maintenance  of  which 
threats  were  to  he  freely  used  to  the  Gov- 
emment  memhers  ;  and,  with  respect  to 
the  great  measure  of  the  day — the  Union 
— it  was  decided  that  on  the  night  of  the 
division  a  certain  number  of  people  should 
occupy  the  gallery  ahove  the  ministerial 
benches,  armed  with  hand-grenades  and 
other  destructive  missiles  ;  that,  on  a  signal 
given,  these  were  to  be  thrown  amongst 
them,  scattering  death  and  ruin  on  all 
sides. 

"It  will  he  seen,  then,"  said  Darby, 
with  a  fiendish  grin,  ''how  the  enemies  of 
Ireland  pay  for  their  hatred  of  her.  Maybe 
they'll  vote  away  their  country  after  that  !" 

Whether  it  was  the  tone,  the  look,  or  the 
words  that  suddenly  awoke  me  from  my 
dreamy  infatuation,  I  know  not ;  but  com- 
ing so  soon  after  the  Frenchman's  detail  of 
the  barbarism  of  the  party,  a  thorough 
disgust  seized  me,  and  the  atrocity  of  this 
wholesale  murder  lost  nothing  of  its  black- 
ness from  being  linked  with  the  cause  of 
liberty. 

With  ready  quickness  Darby  saw  what 
my  impression  Avas,  and  hastily  remarked, 

"We'll  be  all  away  out  of  this,  Master 
Tom,  you  know,  before  that.  We'll  be  up 
.in  Kilclare,  where  we'll  see  the  boys  exer- 
cising and  marching  :  that's  what  'ill  do 
your  heart  good  to  look  at.  But,  before 
we  go,  you'll  have  to  take  the  oath  ;  for 
I'm  answerable  for  you  all  this  time  with 
my  own  head  ;  not  that  I  care  for  that 
same,  but  others  might  mistrust  ye." 

"Holloa!"  cried  the  Frenchman,  from 
within,  "I  hope  you  have  finished  your 
conference  there ;  for  you  seem  to  forget 
there's  no  fire  in  this  room." 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  and  I  beg  a  thousand  par- 
dons," said  Darby  servilely  :  "and  Master 
Tom  only  wants  to  bid  you  good-by  before 
he  goes." 

"  Goes  !  goes  where  ?  Are  you  so  soon 
tired  of  me  ?  "  said  he  in  an  accent  of  most 
winning  sweetness. 

"  He's  obliged  to  be  at  the  Curragh,  at 
the  meeting  there,"  said  Darby,  answering 
for  me. 

"What  meeting  ?     I  never  heard  of  it." 

"It's  a  review,  sir,  of  the  throops,  that's 
to  be  by  moonlight." 

"  A  review  ! "  said  the  Frenchman,  with 
a  scornful  laugh.  "And  do  you  call  this 
midnight  assembly  of  marauding  savages  a 
review  ?" 


Darby's  face  grew  dark  with  rage,  and 
for  a  second  I  thought  he  would  have 
sprung  on  his  assailant,  but  with  a  fawn- 
ing, shrewd  smile  he  lisped  out, 

"It's  wlmi  the)  call  it,  (  aptain  ;  sure 
the  poor  boys  knows  no  better.' 

"And  are  you  going  to  this  review f" 
said  the  Frenchman,  with  an  ironical  pro- 
nunciation of  the  word. 

"  I  Bcarce  know  where  to  go,  or  what  to 
do,"  said  I,  in  a  tone  of  despairing  sadness  ; 
"  any  certainty  would  be  preferable  to  the 
doubts  that  harass  me." 

"Stay  with  me,"  said  the  Frenchman, 
interrupting  me,  and  laving  his  hand  on 
my  shoulder  ;  "  we  shall  be  companions  to 
each  other  :  your  friend  here  knows 
teach  you  many  things  that  may  be 
to  you  hereafter,  and  perhaps,  with  all  hu- 
mility I  may  say,  your  stay  will  be  as 
profitable  as  at  the  camp  yonder."' 

"  I  should  not  like  to  desert  one  who  has 
been  so  kind  to  me  as  Darby,  and  if  he 
wishes — " 

Before  I  could  finish  my  sentence,  the 
door  was  opened  by  a  key  from  without, 
and  Dalton,  as  he  was  called,  stood  amoi 
us. 

"What,  Darby  !"  said  he,  in  a  voice  of 
something  like  emotion,  "not  gone  yet  ! 
you  knoAv  I  forbid  you  coming  up  here  ;  I 
suspected  what  you  would  be  at.  Come, 
lose  no  more  time,  we'll  take  care  of  Mr. 
Burke  for  you." 

Darby  hung  his  head  sorrowfully  and 
left  the  room  without  speaking,  followed 
by  Dalton,  whose  voice  I  heard  in  a  tone 
of  anger,  as  he  descended  the  stairs. 

There  was  a  certain  openness,  an  easy  air 
of  careless  freedom  in  the  young  French- 
man, which  made  me  feel  at  home  in  his 
company  almost  the  very  moment  of  our 
acquaintance  ;  and  when  he  asked  some 
questions  about  myself  and  my  family,  I 
hesitated  not  to  tell  him  my  entire  history. 
with  the  causes  which  had  first  brought 
.me  into  Darby's  society,  and  led  me  to  im- 
bibe his  doctrines  and  opinions.  He  paused 
when  I  finished,  and,  after  reflecting  for 
some  minutes,  he  looked  me  gravely  in  the 
face,  and  said, 

"  But  you  are  aware  of  the  place  you  are 
now  in  ! " 

"No,"  said  I;  "further  than  the  fact 
of  my  having  enjoyed  a  capital  night's 
rest  and  eaten  an  excellent  breakfast,  I 
know  nothing  about  it." 

A  hearty  burst  of  laughter  from  my 
companion  followed  this  very  candid  ac- 
knowledgment on  my  part. 

"  Then,  may  I  ask,  what  are  your  in- 
tentions for  the  future  ? — have  you  any  ?  " 


2G4 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


"At  least  one  hundred,"  said  L,  smiling  ; 
"but  every  one  of  them  has  about  as  many 
objections  against  it.  I  should  like  much, 
for  instance,  to  be  a  soldier — not  in  the 
English  service  though.  I  should  like  to 
belong  to  an  army,  where  neither  birth  nor 
fortune  can  make  nor  mar  ;i  man's  career. 
I  should  like,  too,  to  be  engaged  m  some 
gnat  war  of  liberty,  where  with  each  vic- 
tory we  gained  the  voices  of  the  liberated 
people  would  fall  in  blessings  upon  us  ;  and 
then  I  should  like  to  raise  myself  to  high 
command  by  some  great  achievement." 

"And  then,'' said  the  Frenchman,  inter- 
rupting, "to  come  back  to  Ireland,  and  cut 
off  the  head  of  this  terrible  Monsieur  Bas- 
set.    JSfest-ce  pas,  Tom  ?  " 

I  could  not  help  joining  in  his  laugh 
against  myself,  although  in  good  truth  I 
had  felt  better  pleased  if  he  had  taken  up 
my  enthusiasm  in  a  different  mood. 

"So  much  for  mere  dreaming,"  said  I, 
with  half  a  sigh,  as  our  laughter  subsided. 

"Not  so,"  said  he,  quickly — "not  so; 
all  you  said  is  far  more  attainable  than  you 
suspect.  I  have  been  in  such  a  service 
myself — I  won  my  '  grade '  as  officer  at  the 
point  of  my  sword,  when  scarcely  your 
age;  and  before  I  was  fifteen  received  this." 

He  took  down  the  sword  that  hung  over 
the  chimney  as  he  said  these  words,  and 
drawing  it  from  the  scabbard,  pointed  to 
the  inscription  which,  in  letters  of  gold, 
adorned  the  blade — "Bivoli,"  "  Arcole  ;  " 
then  turning  the  reverse,  I  read — "  Au 
Lieutenant  Charles  Gustave  de  Meudon, 
3me  Cuirassiers." 

"  This,  then,  is  your  name  ?  "  said  I, 
repeating  it  half  aloud. 

"Yes,"  replied  he,  as  he  drew  himself 
up,  and  seemed  struggling  to  repress  a  feel- 
ing of  pride  that  sent  the  blood  rushing  to 
his  cheek  and  brow. 

"  How  I  should  like  to  be  you,"  was  the 
wish  that  burst  from  me  at  that  moment, 
and  which  I  could  not  help  uttering  in 
words. 

"  Helas,  non  !  "  said  the  Frenchman,  sor- 
rowfully, and  turning  away  to  conceal  his 
agitation.  "I  have  broken  with  fortune 
many  a  day  since." 

The  tone  of  bitter  disappointment  in 
which  these  words  were  spoken  left  no 
room  for  reply,  and  we  were  both  silent. 

Charles — for  so  I  must  now  call  him  to 
my  reader,  as  he  compelled  me  to  do  so 
with  himself — Charles  was  the  first  to 
speak. 

"Not  many  months  ago  my  thoughts 
were  very  like  your  own  ;  but  since  then  how 
many  disappointments — how  many  re- 
verses ! " 


He  walked  hurriedly  up  and  down  the 
room  as  he  said  this  ;  then,  stopping  sud- 
denly before  me,  laid  his  hand  on  my 
shoulder,  and,  with  a  voice  of  impressive 
earnestness,  said  : 

"  Be  advised  by  me — join  not  with  these 
people  ;  do  not  embark  with  them  in  their 
enterprise.  Their  enterprise  ! "  repeated 
he,  scornfully;  "they  have  none.  The 
only  men  of  action  here  arc  they  with 
whom  no  man  of  honor,  no  soldier  could 
associate — their  only  daring  some  deed  of 
rapine  and  murder.  No,  liberty  is  not  to  be 
achieved  by  such  hands  as  these  ;  and  the 
other — the  men  of  political  wisdom,  who 
prate  about  reform  and  the  people's  rights, 
who  would  gladly  see  such  as  me  adventure 
in  the  cause  they  do  not  dare  themselves  to 
advocate — they  are  all  false  alike.  Give 
me,"  cried  he,  with  energy,  and  stamping 
his  foot  upon  the  ground,  "give  me 
a  demi-brigade  of  ours,  some  squadrons 
of  Milhaud's  cavalry,  and  '  trois  bouches  a 
feu,'  to  open  the  way  before  us.  •  But  why 
do  I  speak  of  this  ?  Some  midnight  burn- 
ing, some  savage  murder,  some  cowardly 
attack  on  unarmed  and  defenseless  peo- 
ple— these  are  our  campaigns  here ;  and 
shall  I  stain  this  blade  in  such  a  conflict  ?" 

"  But  you  will  go  back  to  France  ?  "  said 
I,  endeavoring  to  say  something  that  might 
rally  him  from  his  gloo  si. 

"  Never, "  replied  he,  firmly — "  never.  I 
alone,  of  all  my  countrymen,  maintained 
that  to  leave  the  people  here  at  such  a  cri- 
sis was  unfair  and  unmanly.  I  alone  be- 
lieved in  the  representations  that  were 
made  of  extended  organization,  of  high 
hopes,  and  ardent  expectations.  I  accepted 
the  command  of  their  army — their  army  ! 
what  a  mockery  !  When  others  accepted 
the  amnesty,  I  refused,  and  lived  in  con- 
cealment, my  life  hanging  upon  the  chance 
of  being  captured  ;  for  fourteen  months  I 
have  wandered  from  county  to  county, 
endeavoring  to  rally  the  spirit  I  had  been 
taught  to  think  only  needed  restraint  to 
hold  back  its  impetuous  daring.  I  have 
spent  money  largely,  for  it  was  largely 
placed  at  my  disposal ;  I  have  distributed 
places  and  promises ;  I  have  accepted 
every  post  where  danger  offered ;  and  in 
return,  I  hoped  that  the  hour  was  ap- 
proaching when  we  should  test  the  courage 
of  our  enemies  by  such  an  outbreak  as 
would  astonish  Europe — and  what  think 
you  has  all  ended  in  ?  But  my  cheek 
burns  at  the  very  thought — -an  intended 
attack  on  the  Government  Members  of  Par- 
liament— an  act  of  base  assassination — a 
cowardly  murder  ;  and  for  what,  too  ?  to 
prevent  a  political  union  with  England  ! 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


265 


Have  they  forgotten  that  our  cause  was  to- 
tal rupture  !  independence  !  open  enmity 
with  England  !  But,  e'est fini,  I  have 
given  them  my  last  resolve.  Yesterday 
evening  I  told  the  delegates  the  only  chance 
that,  in  my  opinion,  existed  of  their  suc- 
cessfully asserting  their  own  independence. 
I  gave  them  the  letters  of  French  officers, 
high  in  command  and  station,  concur- 
ring with  my  own  views ;  and  I  have 
pledged  myself  to  wait  one  month  longer, 
if  they  deem  my  plans  worthy  of  accept- 
ance, to  consider  all  the  details,  and  ar- 
range the  mode  of  proceeding.  If  they 
refuse,  then  I  leave  Ireland  forever  within 
a  week.  In  America,  the  cause  I  glory  in 
is  still  triumphant  ;  and  there,  no  prestige 
of  failure  shall  follow  me  to  damp  my  own 
efforts,  nor  discourage  the  high  holies  of 
such  as  trust  me.  But  you,  my  poor  boy — 
and  how  have  I  forgotten  you  in  all  this 
sad  history — I  will  not  surfer  you  to  be 
misled  by  false  representations  and  flatter- 
ing offers.  It  may  be  the  only  consolation 
I  shall  carry  with  me  from  this  land  of  an- 
archy and  misfortune — but  even  that  is 
something — if  I  rescue  one  untried  and 
uncorrupted  heart  from  the  misery  of  such 
associates.  You  shall  be  a  soldier — be  my 
companion  here  while  I  stay  ;  I'll  arrange 
everything  for  your  comfort ;  we'll  read 
and  talk  together  ;  and  I  will  endeavor  to 
repay  the  debt  I  owe  to  France,  by  sending 
back  there  one  better  than  myself  to  guard 
her  eagles." 

The  tears  ran  fast  down  my  cheek  as  I 
heard  these  words,  but  not  one  syllable 
could  I  utter. 

"  You  do  not  like  my  plan  ;  well — " 

Before  he  could  conclude,  I  seized  his 
hand  with  rapture  within  both  of  mine, 
and  pressed  it  to  my  lips. 

"It  is  a  bargain,  then,"  said  he,  gayly  ; 
"  and  now  let  us  lose  no  more  time  ;  let 
us  remove  this  breakfast-table,  and  begin 
at  once." 

Another  table  was  soon  drawn  over  to 
the  fire,  upon  which  a  mass  of  books,  maps, 
and  plates  were  heaped  by  my  companion, 
who  seemed  to  act  in  the  whole  affair  with 
all  the  delight  of  a  schoolboy  in  some  ex- 
ploit of  amusement. 

"You  are  aware,  Tom,  that  this  place  is 
a  prison  to  me,  and,  therefore,  I  am  not 
altogether  disinterested  in  this  proposal. 
You,  however,  can  go  out  when  yon  please  ; 
but  until  you  understand  the  precautions 
necessary  to  prevent  you  from  being  traced 
here,  it  is  better  not  to  venture  into  the 
city." 

"I  have  no  wish  whatever  to  leave  this," 
said  I,  quickly,  while  I  ranged  my  eye  with 


delighl   over  the  pile  of  bo<  ks 

and   thought  of  all  the  pleasure  I  \va 

draw  from  their  perusal. 

"You    must,    tell     me    bo   three  i 
hence,  it'  yon  wish   i<>  flatter  me,"  n 
Charli  s,  as   lie   drew  over   his   i  hair,  and 
pointed  with  ins  hand  to  another. 

It  needed  not  I  he  pleasing  and  attn 
power  of  my  teacher  to  make  my  stud 
most  captivating  of  all  amusements.  Mili- 
tary science,  even  in  its  graves!  forms,  had 
an  interest  for  me  such  as  no  other  pursuit 
could  equal.  In  its  vasi  rangeof  collateral 
subjects,  it  opened  an  inexhaustible  mine 
to  stimulate  industry  and  encourage  re- 
search. Tin'  greal  wars  of  the  world  were 
the  great  episodes  in  history,  win  rem  mon- 
archs  and  princes  were  nothing,  if  not 
generals.  With  what  delight,  then,  did  I 
hangover  the  pages  of  Carnot  and  Jomini  ; 
with  what  an  anxious  heart  wonld  I  read 
the  narrative  of  a  siege,  where,  against 
every  disadvantage  of  numbers  and  muni- 
tions of  war,  some  few  resisted  all  the 
attacks  of  the  adverse  forces,  with  no  other 
protection  save  that  of  consummate  skill. 
With  what  enthusiasm  did  I  hear  of  Charles 
XII.,  of  Wallenstein,  of  the  Pnnee  Eu- 
gene ;  and  how  oftentimes  did  I  ask  my- 
self in  secret,  why  had  the  world  none  snch 
as  these  to  boast  of  now?  till  at  last  the 
name  of  Bonaparte  burst  from  my  com- 
panion's lips,  as,  with  a  torrent  of  long 
restrained  devotion,  he  broke  forth  into  an 
eloquent  and  impassioned  account  of  the 
great  general  of  his  age. 

That  name  once  heard,  I  could  not  bear 
to  think  or  speak  of  any  other.  How  I 
followed  him,  from  the  siege  of  Toulon,  as 
he  knelt  down  beside  the  gun  which  he 
pointed  with  his  own  hand,  to  the  glorious 
battle-fields  of  Italy,  and  heard,  from  one 
who  listened' to  his  shout  of  "  Suivez-moi  " 
on  the  bridge  of  Lodi,  the  glorious  heroism 
of  that  day!  I  tracked  him  across  the 
pathless  deserts  of  the  East,  beneath  the 
shadow  of  the  Pyramids,  whose  fame  seems, 
somehow,  to  have  revived  in  the  history  of 
that  great  man  ;  and  then  I  listened  to  the 
stories— and  how  numerous  were  they — of 
his  personal  daring,  the  devotion  and  love 
men  bore  him,  the  magic  influence  of  his 
presence,  the  command  of  his  look  ;  the 
very  short  and.  broken  sentences  he  ad- 
dressed to  his  generals  were  treasured  up  in 
my  mind  and  repeated  over  and  over  to 
myself.  Charles  possessed  a  miniature  of 
the  First  Consul,  which  he  assured  me  was 
strikingly  like  him,  and  for  hours  long  I 
could  sit  and  gaze  upon  that  cold,  unim- 
passioned  brow,  where  greatness  seemed  to 
sit  enthroned.     How  I  longed  to  look  upon 


2GG 


CHARLES  LEVERS    WORKS. 


the  broad  and  massive  forehead — the  deep- 
set,  searching  eye — the  month,  where  sweet- 
ness and  severity  seemed  tempered — and 
that  finely  ronnded  chin,  that  gave  his 
head  so  much  the  character  of  antique 
beauty.  His  image  filled  every  avenue  of 
my  brain  ;  his  eye  seemed  on  me  in  my 
wuking  moments,  and  J  thought  I  heard 
his  voice  in  my  dream.  Never  did  lover 
dwell  more  rapturously  on  the  memory  of 
his  mistress,  than  did  my  boyish  thoughts 
on  Bonaparte.  What  would  I  not  have 
done  to  serve  him  ?  What  would  I  not 
have  dared,  to  win  one  word,  one  look  of 
his,  in  praise  ?  All  other  names  faded 
away  before  his ;  the  halo  around  him 
paled  every  other  star  ;  the  victories  I  had 
thought  of  before  with  admiration  I  now 
only  regarded  as  trifling  successes,  com- 
pared with  the  overwhelming  torrent  of  his 
conquests.  Charles  saw  my  enthusiasm, 
and  ministered  to  it  with  eager  delight. 
Every  trait  in  his  beloved  leader  that  could 
stimulate  admiration,  or  excite  affection, 
he  dwelt  on  with  all  the  fondness  of  a 
Frenchman  for  his  idol,  till  at  last  the 
world  seemed  to  my  eyes  but  the  theatre  of 
his  greatness,  and  men  the  mere  instru- 
ments of  that  commanding  intellect  that 
ruled  the  destinies  and  disposed  of  the  for- 
tunes of  nations. 

In  this  way  days,  and  weeks,  and  even 
months  rolled  on,  for  Charles's  interest  in 
my  studies  had  induced  him  to  abandon 
his  former  intention  of  departure,  and  he 
now  scarcely  took  any  part  in  the  proceed- 
ings of  the  delegates,  and  devoted  himself 
almost  exclusively  to  me.  During  the  day- 
time we  never  left  the  house,  but  when  night 
fell  we  used  to  walk  forth — not  into  the  city, 
but  by  some  country  road,  often  along  the 
canal -side — our  conversation  on  the  only 
topic  wherein  we  felt  interested  ;  and  these 
rambles  still  live  within  my  memory  with 
all  the  vivid  freshness  of  yesterday ;  and 
while  my  heart  saddens  over  the  influence 
they  shed  upon  my  after  life,  I  cannot  help 
the  train  of  pleasure  with  which,  even  yet, 
I  dwell  upon  their  recollection.  How 
guarded  should  he  be  who  converses  with  a 
boy,  forgetting  with  what  power  each  word 
is  fraught,  by  the  mere  force  of  years  ;  how 
the  flattery  of  equality  destroys  judgment, 
and  saps  all  power  of  discrimination  ;  and, 
more  than  all,  how  dangerous  it  is  to  graft 
upon  the  tender  sapling  the  ripe  fruits  of 
experience,  not  knowing  how,  in  such,  they 
may  grow  to  very  rankness.  Few  are 
there  who  cannot  look  back  to  their  child- 
hood for  the  origin  of  opinions  that  have 
had  their  influence  over  all  their  latter 
years ;  and  when   these   have   owed   their 


birth  to  those  we  loved,  is  it  wonderful  that 
Ave  should  cling  to  faults  which  seemed 
hallowed  by  friendship  ? 

Meanwhile,  I  was  becoming  a  man,  if 
not  in  years,  at  least  in  spirit  and  ambi- 
tion. The  pursuits  natural  to  my  age 
were  passed  over  for  the  studies  of  more 
advanced  years.  Military  history  had  im- 
parted to  me  a  soldier's  valor,  and  I  could 
take  no  pleasure  in  anything  save  as  it  bore 
upon  the  one  engrossing  topic  of  my  mind. 

Charles,  too,  seemed  to  feel  all  his  own 
ambition  revived  in  mine,  and  watched 
with  pride  the  progress  I  was  making  un- 
der his  guidance. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


THE  FRENCHMAN  S   STORY. 


While  my  life  slipped  thus  pleasantly 
along,  the  hopes  of  the  insurgent  party  fell 
daily  and  hourly  lower  ;  disunion  and  dis- 
trust pervaded  all  their  councils,  jealousies 
and  suspicions  grew  up  among  their  lead- 
ers. Many  of  those  whose  credit  stood 
highest  in  their  party  became  informers  to 
the  Government,  whose  persevering  activ- 
ity increased  with  every  emergency  ;  and 
finally,  they  who  would  have  adventured 
everything  but  some  few  months  before, 
grew  lukewarm  and  indifferent.  A  dogged 
carelessness  seemed  to  have  succeeded  to 
their  outbreak  of  enthusiasm,  and  they 
looked  on  at  the  execution  of  their  com- 
panions, and  the  wreck  of  their  party,  with 
a  stupid  and  stolid  indifference. 

For  some  time  previous  .the  delegates 
met  at  rare  and  irregular  intervals,  and 
finally  ceased  to  assemble  altogether.  The 
bolder  portion  of  the  body,  disgusted  with 
the  weak  and  temporizing  views  of  the  oth- 
ers, withdrew  first  ;  and  the  less  deter- 
mined formed  themselves  into  a  neW  soci- 
ety, whose  object  was  merely  to  get  up 
petitions  and  addresses  unfavorable  to  the 
great  project  of  the  Government — a  legis- 
lative union  with  England. 

From  the  turn  events  had  taken,  my 
companion,  as  it  may  be  supposed,  took  no 
interest  in  their  proceedings.  Affecting  to 
think  that  all  was  not  lost — while  in  his 
heart  he  felt  bitterly  the  disappointment  of 
his  hopes — a  settled  melancholy,  unrelieved 
even  by  those  flashes  of  buoyancy  which  a 
Frenchman  rarely  loses  in  any  misfortune, 
now  grew  upon  him.  His  cheek  grew 
paler,  and  his  frame  seemed  wasting  away, 
while  his  impaired  strength  and  tottering 
step  betrayed  that  something  more  than 
sorrow  was  at  work  within  him.     Still  he 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


267 


persevered  in  our  course  of  study,  and,  not- 
withstanding ;dl  my  efforts  to  induce  him 
to  relax  in  his  labors,  his  desire  to  teach 
me  grew  with  every  day.  For  some  time, 
a  short,  hacking  cough,  with  pain  in  his 
chest,  had  seized  on  him,  and,  although  if 
yielded  to  slight  remedies,  it  returned 
again  and  again.  Our  night  walks  were, 
therefore,  obliged  to  be  discontinued,  and 
the  confinement  to  the  house  preyed  upon 
his  spirits,  and  shook  his  nerves.  Boy  as 
I  was,  I  could  not  look  upon  his  altered 
face  and  attenuated  figure  without  a  thril- 
ling  fear  at  my  heart  lest  he  might  be  se- 
riously ill.  He  perceived  my  anxiety 
quickly,  and  endeavored,  with  many  a 
cheering  speech,  to  assure  me  that  these 
were  attacks  to  which  he  had  been  long  ac- 
customed, and  which  never  were  either 
lasting  or  dangerous  ;  but  the  very  hollow 
accents  in  which  he  spoke  robbed  these 
words  of  all  their  comfort  to  me. 

The  winter,  which  had  been  unusually 
long  and  severe,  at  length  passed  away,  ancl 
the  spring,  milder  and  more  genial  than  is 
customary  in  our  climate,  succeeded  ;  the 
sunlight  came  slanting  down  through  the 
narrow  court,  and  fell  in  one  rich  yellow 
patch  upon  our  floor.  Charles  started,  his 
dark  eyes,  hollow  and  sunk,  glowed  with 
unwonted  brightness,  and  his  haggard  and 
hollow  cheek  suddenly  flushed  with  a  crim- 
son glow. 

"Mori  clier"  said  he,  in  a  voice  tremu- 
lous with  emotion,  "I  think  if  I  were  to 
leave  this  I  might  recover." 

The  very  possibility  of  his  death,  until 
that  moment,  had  never  even  crossed  my 
mind,  and  in  the  misery  of  the  thought  I 
burst  into  tears.  From  that  hour  the  im- 
pression never  left  my  mind,  and  every 
accent  of  his  low,  soft  voice,  every  glance 
of  his  mild,  dark  eye,  sank  into  my  heart, 
as  though  I  heard  and  saw  them  for  the 
last  time.  There  was  nothing  to  fear  now, 
so  far  as  political  causes  were  concerned,  in 
our  removing  from  our  present  abode,  and 
it  was  arranged  between  us  that  we  should 
leave  town,  and  take  up  our  residence  in 
the  county  of  Wicklow.  There  was  a  small 
cottage  at  the  opening  of  Glenmalure  which 
my  companion  constantly  spoke  of  ;  he  had 
passed  two  nights  there  already,  and  left  it 
with  many  a  resolve  to  return  and  enjoy 
the  delightful  scenery  of  the  neighborhood. 

The  month  of  April  was  drawing  to  a 
close,  when  one  morning,  soon  after  sun- 
rise, we  left  Dublin.  A  heavy  mist,  such 
as  often  in  northern  climates  ushers  in  a 
day  of  unusual  brightness,  shrouded  every 
object  from  our  view  for  several  miles  of 
the  way.     Charles  scarcely  spoke  ;  the  in- 


creased exertion  seemed  to  have  fatigued 
and  exhausted  him,  and  he  lay  back  in  the 
carriage,  his  handkerchief  pressed  to  his 
moul  h,  and  his  eyes  half  closed. 

We  had  passed  the  little  town  of  Bray, 
and  entered  upon  that  long  road  which 
traverses  the  valley  between  the  two  Sugar 
Loaves,  when  suddenly  the  sun  burst  forth  ; 
the  lazy  mists  rolled  heavily  up  the  valley 
and  along  the  mountain  side-,  disclosing  as 
they  went  patches  of  fertile  richni 
dark  masses  of  frowning  rock.  Above  tins, 
again,  the  purple  heath  appeared  glowing, 
like  a  gorgeous  amethyst,  as  the  red  sun- 
lighl  played  upon  it,  or  sparkled  on  the 
shining  granite  that  rose  through  the  lux- 
uriant herbage.  Gradually  the  ravine 
grew  narrower  ;  the  mountains  seemed  like 
one  vast  chain,  severed  by  some  great  con- 
vulsion ;  their  rugged  sides  appeared  to 
mark  the  very  junction  ;  trunks  of  aged 
and  mighty  trees  hung  threateningly  above 
the  pass;  and  a  hollow,  echoing  sound 
arose,  as  the  horses  trod  along  the  cause- 
way. It  was  a  spot,  of  wild  and  gloomy 
grandeur,  and  as  I  gazed  on  it  intently, 
suddenly  I  felt  a  hand  upon  my  shoulder. 
I  turned  round  :  it  was  Charles's,  his  eyes 
riveted  on  the  scene,  his  lips  parted  with 
eagerness;  bespoke  at  length,  but  at  first 
his  voice  was  hoarse  and  low,  by  deg] 
grew  fuller  and  richer,  and  at  last  rolled 
on,  in  all  its  Avonted  strength  and  round- 
ness. 

"  See  there — look  !  "  cried  he,  as  his  thin, 
attenuated  finger  pointed  to  the  pass. 
"  What  a  ravine  to  defend  !  The  column, 
with  two  pieces  of  artillery  in  the  road  : 
the  cavalry  to  form  behind,  where  you  see 
that  open  space,  and  advance  between  the 
open  files  of  the  infantry  ;  the  tirailleurs 
scattered  along  that  ridge  where  the  furze 
is  thickest,  or  clown  there  among  the-' 
masses  of  rock.  Sacristi  ! — what  a  volume 
of  fire  they'd  pour  down.  See  how  the  blue 
smoke  and  the  ring  of  the  musket  would 
mark  them  out  as  they  dotted  the  moun- 
tain side,  ancl  yet  were  unapproachable  to 
the  enemy  ;  and  think  then  of  the  rolling 
thunder  of  the  eighteen-pounders  shaking 
these  old  mountains,  and  the  long,  clatter- 
ing crash  of  the  platoon  following  after,  and 
the  dark  shakos  towering  above  the  smoke; 
and  then  the  loud  '  Viva!  '  I  think  I  hear 
it." 

His  cheek  became  purple  as  he  spoke,  his 
veins  swollen  and  distended  :  his  voice, 
though  loud,  lost  nothing  of  it<  musical 
cadence,  and  his  whole  look  betokened  ex- 
citement, almost  bordering  on  madness. 
Suddenly  his  chest  heaved,  a  tremendous 
fit  of  coughing  seized  him,  and  he  fell  for- 


2G8 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORLDS. 


ward  upon  my  shoulder.  I  lifted  him  up,and 
what  was  my  horror  to  perceive  that  all  his 
vest  and  cravat  were  bathed  in  florid  blood, 
which  issued  from  his  mouth.  He  had 
burst  a  blood-vessel  in  his  wild  transport  of 
enthusiasm,  and  now  lay  pale,  cold,  and 
senseless  in  my  arms. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  we  could  pro- 
ceed with  our  journey,  for,  although  for- 
tunately the  bleeding  did  not  continue, 
fainting  followed  fainting  for  hours  after. 
At  length  we  were  enabled  to  set  out  again, 
but  only  at  a  walking  pace.  For  the  re- 
mainder of  the  day  his  head  rested  on  my 
shoulder,  and  his  cold  hand  in  mine,  as  we 
slowly  traversed  the  long,  weary  miles  to- 
ward Glenmalure. 

The  night  was  falling  as  we  arrived  at 
our  journey's  end.  Here,  however,  every 
kindness  and  attention  awaited  us  ;  and  I 
soon  had  the  happiness  of  seeing  my  poor 
friend  in  his  bed,  and  sleeping  with  all  the 
ease  and  tranquillity  of  a  child. 

From  that  hour  every  other  thought  was 
merged  in  my  fears  for  him.  I  watched, 
with  an  agonizing  intensity,  every  change 
of  hi s« malady.  I  scanned,  with  an  aching 
heart,  every  symptom  day  by  day.  How 
many  times  has  the  false  bloom  of  hectic 
shed  happiness  over  me.  How  often,  in  my 
secret  walks,  have  I  offered  up  my  prayer  of 
thankfulness,  as  the  deceitful  glow  of  fever 
colored  his  wan  cheek,  and  lent  a  more  than 
natural  brilliancy  to  his  sunk  and  filmy 
eye.  The  world  to  me  was  all  nothing, 
save  as  it  influenced  him.  Every  cloud 
that  moved  above,  each  breeze  that  rustled, 
I  thought  of  for  him  ;  and  when  I  slept 
his  image  was  still  before  me,  and  his  voice 
seemed  to  call  me  oftentimes  in  the  silence  of 
the  night,  and  when  I  awoke  and  saw  him 
sleeping,  I  knew  not  which  was  the  reality. 

His  debility  increased  rapidly ;  and  al- 
though the  mild  air  of  summer,  and  the 
shelter  of  the  deep  valley  seemed  to  have 
relieved  his  cough,  his  weakness  grew  daily 
more  and  more.  His  character,  too,  seemed 
to  have  undergone  a  change  as  great  and 
as  striking  as  that  in  his  health.  The  high 
and  chivalrous  ambition,  the  soldier-like 
heroism,  the  ardent  spirit  of  patriotism 
that  at  first  marked  him,  had  given  way  to 
a  low  and  tender  melancholy — an  almost 
womanish  tenderness — that  made  him  love 
to  have  the  little  children  of  the  cabin  near 
him,  to  hear  their  innocent  prattle,  and 
watch  their  infant  gambols.  He  talked, 
too,  of  home,  of  the  old  chateau  m  Pro- 
vence, where  he  was  bom,  and  described  to 
me  its  antiquated  terraces  and  quaint,  old- 
fashioned  alleys,  where  as  a  boy  he  wan- 
dered with  his  sister. 


" Pauvre  Marie!"  said  he,  as  a  deep 
blush  covered  his  pale  cheek,  "  how  have 
I  deserted  you  ! "  The  thought  seemed 
full  of  anguish  for  him,  and  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  day  he  scarcely  spoke. 

Some  days  after  his  first  mention  of  his 
sister,  we  were  sitting  together  in  front  of 
the  cabin,  enjoying  the  shade  of  a  large 
chestnut  tree,  which  already  had  put  forth 
its  early  leaves,  and  tempered,  if  it  did  not 
exclude,  the  rays  of  the  sun. 

"  You  heard  me  speak  of  my  sister,  "said 
he,  in  a  low  and  broken  voice.  "  She  is 
all  that  I  have  on  earth  near  to  me.  "We 
were  brought  up  together  as  children ; 
learned  the  same  plays ;  had  the  same  mas- 
ters ;  spent  not  one  hour  in  the  long  day 
asunder,  and  at  night  we  pressed  each 
other's  hands,  as  we  sunk  to  sleep.  She 
was  to  me  all  that  I  ever  dreamed  of  girl- 
ish loveliness,  of  woman's  happiest  nature  ; 
and  I  was  her  ideal  of  boyish  daring,  of 
youthful  boldness,  and  manly  enterprise. 
We  loved  each  other — like  those  who  felt 
they  had  no  need  of  other  affection,  save 
such  as  sprang  frcm  our  cradles,  and  tracked 
us  on  through  life.  Hers  was  a  heart  that 
seemed  made  for  all  that  human  nature  can 
taste  of  happiness  ;  her  eye,  her  lip,  her 
blooming  cheek  knew  no  other  expression 
than  a  smile  ;  her  very  step  was  buoyancy  ; 
her  laugh  rang  through  your  heart  as  joy- 
bells  fill  the  air  ;  and  yet  !  and  yet  !  I 
brought  that  heart  to  sorrow,  and  that 
cheek  I  made  pale,  and  hollow,  and  sunken 
as  you  see  my  own.  My  cursed  ambition,  that 
rested  not  content  with  my  own  path  in 
life,  threw  its  baleful  shadow  across  hers. 
The  story  is  a  short  one,  and  I  may  tell  it 
to  you. 

"  When  I  left  Provence,  to  join  the  army 
of  the  south,  I  was  obliged  to  leave  Marie 
under  the  care  of  an  old  and  distant  rel- 
ative, who  resided  some  two  leagues  from 
us  on  the  Loire.  The  chevalier  was  a  wid- 
ower, with  one  son  about  my  own  age,  of 
whom  I  knew  nothing,  save  that  he  had 
never  left  his  father's  house — had  been  ed- 
ucated completely  at  home — and  had  ob- 
tained the  reputation  of  being  a  sombre, 
retired  book-Avorm,  who  avoided  the  world, 
and  preferred  the  lonely  solitude  of  a  pro- 
vincial chateau  to  the  gay  dissipations  of 
Pans. 

"My  only  fear  in  intrusting  my  poor 
sister  in  such  hands  was  the  dire  stupidity 
of  the  sejour ;  but  as  I  bid  her  good-by,  I 
said,  laughingly,  '  Prcnez  garde,  Marie, 
don't  fall  in  love  with  Claude  de  Lauzan.' 

"  'Poor  Claude  !'  said  she,  bursting  into 
a  fit  of  laughter;  'what  a  sad  affair  that 
Avould  be  for  him  ! '    So  saying,  we  parted. 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


209 


"  I  made  the  campaign  of  Italy,  where, 
as  I  have  perhaps  too  often  told  you,  I  had 
some  opportunities  of  distinguishing  my- 
self, and  was  promoted  to  a  squadron  on 
the  field  of  A.rcole.  Great  as  my  boyish 
exultation  was  at  my  success,  I  believe  its 
highest  pleasure  arose  from  the  anticipa- 
tion of  Marie's  delight  when  she  received 
my  letter  with  the  news.  I  wrote  to  her 
nearly  every  week,  and  heard  from  her  as 
frequently  ;  at  the  time  1  did  not  mark,  as 
I  have  since  done,  the  altered  tone  of  her 
letters  to  me.  How  gradually  the  high, 
ambitious  daring  that  animated  her  early 
answers  became  tamed  down  into  half  re- 
gretful fears  of  a  soldier's  career  ;  her  sor- 
rows for  those  whose  conquered  countries 
were  laid  waste  by  fire  and  sword  ;  her  im- 
plied censure  of  a  war,  whose  injustice  she 
more  than  hint''!!  at  ;  and  lastly,  her  avow- 
ed preference  for  those  peaceful  paths  in 
life  that  were  devoted  to  the  happiness  of 
one's  fellows,  and  the  worship  of  Him  who 
deserved  all  our  affection.  I  did  not  mark, 
I  say,  this  change  ;  the  bustle  of  the  camp, 
the  din  of  arms,  the  crash  of  mounted 
squadrons,  are  poor  aids  to  reflection;  and 
I  thought  of  Marie  but  as  I  left  her. 

"  It  was  after  a  few  months  of  ahsence  I 
returned  to  Provence,  the  croix  dlionneur 
on  my  bosom,  the  sabre  I  won  at  Lodi  by 
my  side.  I  rushed  into  the  room  bursting 
with  impatience  to  clasp  my  sister  in  my 
arms,  and  burning  to  tell  her  all  my  deeds 
and  all  my  dangers  ;  she  met  me  with  her 
old  affection,  but  how  altered  in  its  form  ! 
her  gay  and  girlish  lightness,  the  very  soul 
of  buoyant  pleasure,  was  gone  ;  and  in  its 
place  a  mild,  sad  smile  played  upon  her  lip, 
and  a  deep,  thoughtful  look  was  in  her 
dark  brown  eye.  She  looked  not  less 
beautiful  ;  no,  far  from  it,  her  loveliness 
was  increased  tenfold  ;  but  the  disappoint- 
ment smote  heavily  on  my  heart.  I  looked 
about  me  like  one  seeking  for  some  expla- 
nation, and  there  stood  Claude — pale,  still, 
and  motionless  bcfoi-e  me  ;  the  very  look  she 
wore  reflected  in  his  calm  features,  her  very 
smile  was  on  his  lips.  In  an  instant  the 
whole  truth  flashed  across  me  ;  she  loved 
him.  There  are  thoughts  which  rend  us, 
as  lightning  does  the  rock,  opening  new 
surfaces  that  lay  hid  since  the  Creation, 
and  tearing  our  fast-knit  sympathies  asun- 
der like  the  rent  granite — mine  was  such. 
From  that  hour  I  hated  him  ;  the  very  vir- 
tues that  had,  under  happier  circumstan- 
ces, made  us  like  brothers,  but  added  fuel 
to  the  flame.  My  rival,  he  had  robbed  me 
of  my  sister — he  had  left  me  without  that  one 
'great  prize  I  owned  on  earth  ;  and  all  that 
I  had  dared  and  won  seemed  poor,  and  bar- 


and  worthless,  since  she  no  longer  val- 
ued it. 

v>  Thai  very  niehl  I  wrote  a  letter  to  the 
First  Consul;  1  knew  the  ardenl  desire  he 
possessed  to  attach  to  Josephine's  suite 
such  members  of  the  old  aristocracy 
could  be  induced  to  join  it.  He  had  n 
I  ban  once  hinted  to  me  !  hat  i  he  fame  of 
my  sister's  beauty  had  reached  I  he  Tuile- 
ries  ;  that  wit  h  such  pretensions  as  hers,  t  he 
seclusion  of  a  chateau  in  Provence  was  ill- 
suited  to  her.  1  stated  at  one-  my  wish 
that  she  might  be  received  as  one  of  the 
ladies  of  the  Court,  avowing  my  intention 
to  afford  her  any  sum  that  might  be  deem- 
ed suitable  to  maintain  her  in  so  exalted  a 
sphere.  This,  you  are  not  aware,  is  the 
mode  by  which  the  members  of  a  family 
express  to  the  Consul  that  they  surrei 
all  right  and  guardianship  in  Vhe  individ- 
ual given,  tendering  to  him  full  power  to 
dispose  of  her  in  marriage,  exactly  as 
though  he  were  her  own  father. 

"Before  day  broke  my  letter  was  on  its 
way  to  Paris  ;  in  less  than  a  week  came  the 
answer  accepting  my  proposal  in  the  m 
flattering  terms,  and  commanding  me  to 
repair  to  the  Tuileries  with  my  sister,  and 
take  command  of  a  regiment  d'tiite  then 
preparing  for  service. 

"  I  may  not  dwell  on  the  scene  that  fol- 
lowed. The  very  memory  of  it  is  too  much 
for  my  weak  and  failing  spirits.  Claud" 
flung  himself  at  my  feet,  and  confessed  his 
love  ;  he  declared  his  willingness  to  submit 
to  any  or  everything  I  should  dictate  :  he 
would*  join  the  army  ;  he  would  volunteer 
for  Egypt.  Poor  feilow  !  his  trembling  ac- 
cents and  bloodless  lip  comported  ill  with 
the  heroism  of  his  words.  Only  promise 
that  in  the  end  Marie  should  be  his.  and 
there  was  no  danger  he  would  not  dare  ;  no 
course  in  life,  however  unsuited  to  him.  he 
would  not  follow  at  my  bidding.  I  know 
not  whether  my  heart  could  have  withstood 
such  an  appeal  as  this,  had  I  been  free  to 
act;  but  now  the  die  was  cast.  I  handed 
him  the  First  Consul's  letter;  he  opened  it 
with  a  hand  trembling  like  palsy,  and  read 
it  over;  he  leaned  his  head  against  the 
chimney  when  he  finished,  ami  gave  me 
back  the' letter  without  a  word.  I  could 
not  bear  to  look  on  him,  and  left  the  room. 

When  I  returned  he  was  gone.  We  left 
the  chateau  the  same  evening  for  Paris. 
Marie  scarcely  spoke  one  word  during  the 
journey  ;  a  fatuous,  stupid  indifference  to 
everything  and  every  one  had  seized  her, 
and  she  seemed  perfectly  careless  whither 
Ave  went.  This  gradually  yielded  to  a  set- 
tled melancholy,  which  never  left  her.  On 
I  our  arrival  in  Paris,  I  did  not  dare  to  pre- 


270 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


sent  myself  with  her  at  the  Tuilcries  ;  so, 
feigning- her  ill-health  as  an  excuse,  I  re- 
mained some  weeks  at  Versailles,  to  en- 
deavor by  affection  and  care  to  overcome 
this  sad  feature  of  her  malady.  It  was 
about  six  weeks  after  this  that  I  read  in  the 
Journal  cles  Debats  an  announcement  that 
'  Claude  de  Lauzan  had  accepted  holy  or- 
ders, and  was  appointed  cure  of  La  Fleche, 
in  Brittany.'  At  first  the  news  came  on 
me  like  a  thunder-clap,  but  after  a  while's 
reflection  I  began  to  believe  it  was,  per- 
haps, the  very  best  thing  could  have  hap- 
pened ;  and  under  this  view  of  the  matter 
I  left  the  paper  in  Marie's  way. 

"  I  was  right.  She  did  not  appear  the 
next  morning  at  breakfast,  nor  the  entire  day 
after.  The  following  day  the  same ;  but 
in  the  evening  came  a  few  lines  written 
with  a  pencil,  saying  she  wished  to  see  me. 
I  went — but  I  cannot  tell  you.  My  very 
heart  is  bursting  as  I  think  of  her,  as  she 
sat  up  in  her  bed — her  long,  dark  hair 
falling  in  heavy  masses  over  her  shoulders, 
and  her  darker  eyes  flashing  with  a  bright- 
ness that  seemed  like  wandering  intellect. 
She  fell  upon  my  neck  and  cried  ;  her 
tears  ran  down  my  cheek,  and  her  sobs 
shook  me.  I  know  not  what  I  said,  but  1 
remember  that  she  agreed  to  everything  I 
had  arranged  for  her  ;  she  even  smiled  a 
sickly  smile  as  I  spoke  of  what  an  orna- 
ment she  would  be  to  the  l  belle  cour/ 
and  we  parted. 

"  That  Avas  the  last  good-night  I  ever 
wished  her.  The  next  day  she  was  re- 
ceived at  Court,  and  I  "was  ordered  to  Nor- 
mandy, thence  I  was  sent  to  Boulogne,  and 
soon  after  to  Ireland."' 

"  But  you  have  written  to  her — you  have 
heard  from  her  ?  " 

"Alas!  no.  I  have  written  again  and 
again,  but  either  she  has  never  received 
my  letters,  or  she  will  not  answer  them." 

The  tone  of  sorrow  he  concluded  in  left 
no  room  for  ,any  effort  at  consolation,  and 
we  were  silent ;  at  last  he  took  my  hand  in 
his,  and  as  his  feverish  fingers  pressed  it, 
he  said, 

"  'Tis  a  sad  thing  when  we  work  the 
misery  of  those  for  whose  happiness  we 
would  have  shed  our  heart's  blood." 


CHAPTER    X 

THE   CHURCHYARD. 


The  excitement  caused  by  the  mere  nar- 
ration of  his  sister's  suffering  weighed 
heavily    on   De    Meudon's  weak  and   ex- 


hausted frame  ;  his  thoughts  would  flow 
in  no  other  channel  ;  his  reveries  were  of 
home  and  long-past  years  ;  and  a  depres- 
sion far  greater  than  I  had  yet  witnessed 
settled  down  upon  his  jaded  spirits. 

"Is  not  my  present  condition  like  a  just 
retribution  on  my  ambitious  folly?"  was 
his  continued  reflection  :  and  so  he  felt  it. 
With  a  Frenchman's  belief  in  destiny,  he 
regarded  the  failure  of  all  his  hopes,  and 
the  ruin  of  the  cause  he  had  embarked  in, 
as  the  natural  and  inevitable  consequences 
of  his  own  ungenerous  conduct ;  and  even 
reproached  himself  for  carrying  his  evil 
fortune  into  an  enterprise  which,  without 
him,  might  have  been  successful.  These 
gloomy  forebodings,  against  which  reason 
Avas  of  no  avail,  grew  hourly  upon  him, 
and  visibly  influenced  his  chances  of  re- 
covery. 

It  was  a  sad  spectacle  to  look  on  one 
who  possessed  so  much  of  good  —  so 
many  fair  and  attractive  qualities— thus 
wasting  away  without  a  single  consola- 
tion he  could  lay  to  his  bruised  and 
wounded  spirit.  The  very  successes  he 
once  gloried  to  remember  now  only  added 
bitterness  to  his  fallen  estate  ;  to  think  of 
what  he  had  been,  and  look  on  what  he 
was,  was  his  heaviest  affliction,  and  he  fell 
into  a  deep,  brooding  melancholy,  in 
which  he  scarcely  spoke,  but  sat  looking 
at  vacancy,  waiting  as  it  were  for  death. 

I  remember  it  well.  I  had  been  sitting 
silently  by  his  bedside  ;  for  hours  he  had 
not  spoken,  but  an  occasional  deep-drawn 
sigh  showed  he  was  not  sleeping.  It  was 
night7  and  all  in  the  little  household  were 
at  rest ;  a  slight  rustling  of  the  curtain 
attracted  me,  and  I  felt  his  hand  steal 
from  the  clothes  and  grasp  my  own.         t 

"  I  have  been  thinking  of  you,  my  clear 
boy,"  said  he,  "  and  what  is  to  become  of 
you  whem  I'm  gone.  There,  do  not  sob  ; 
the  time  is  short  now,  and  I  begin  to  feel 
it  so  ;  for,  somehow,  as  Ave  approach  the 
confines  of  eternity,  our  mental  vision 
groAvs  clearer  and  more  distinct — doubts 
that  have  long  puzzled  us  seem  doubts  no 
longer.  Many  of  our  highest  hopes  and 
aspirations  — the  day-dreams  that  made  life 
glorious — pass  before  our  eyes,  and  become 
the  poor  and  empty  pageants  of  the  hour. 
Like  the  traveler  avIio,  as  he  journeys 
along,  sees  little  of  the  way,  but  at  the 
last  sits  doAvn  upon  some  grassy  bank,  and 
gazes  0A*er  the  long  line  of  road  ;  so,  as 
the  close  of  life  draws  near,  avc  throw  a 
backward  glance  upon  the  past.  But  Iioav 
differently  does  all  seem  to  our  eyes — Iioav 
many  of  those  we  envied  once  do  avc  pity 
now  ;  how  many  of  those  who  appeared 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


271 


V>w  and  humble,  whose  thoughts  seemed 
bowed  to  earth,  do  Ave  now  recognize  as 
soaring  aloft,  high  above  their  fellow-men, 

like  creatures  of  some  other  sphere  !  "  lie 
paused  ;  then  in  a  tone  of  greater  earnest- 
ness added,  "  5Ton  must  nol  join  these 
people,  Tom.  The  day  is  gone  by  when 
anything  great  or  good  could  have  been  ac- 
complished. The  horrors  of  civil  war  will 
ever  prevent  good  men  from  uniting  fchem- 
sevestoa  cause  which  has  no  other  road 
save  through  bloodshed  ;  and  many  wise 
ones,  who  Aveigh  well  the  dangers,  see  it 
hopeless.  France  is  your  country — there, 
liberty  has  been  won  ;  there  lives  one  great 
man,  whose  notice,  were  it  but  passingly 
bestowed,  is  fame.  If  life  were  spared  me, 
I  could  have  served  you  there — as  it  is,  I 
can  do  something." 

He  paused  for  a  while,  and  then  drawing 
the  curtain  gently  to  one  side,  said, 

"Can  it  be  moonlight,  it  is  so  very 
bright?" 

"Yes,"  said  I;  "the  moon  is  at  the 
full." 

He  sat  up  as  I  spoke,  and  looked  eagerly 
out  through  the  little  window. 

"  I  have  got  a  fancy — how  strange,  too, 
it  is  one  I  have  often  smiled  at  in  others, 
but  I  feel  it  strongly  now — it  is  to  choose 
some  spot  where  I  shall  be  laid  when  I  am 
dead.  There  is  a  little  ruin  at  the  bottom 
of  this  glen  ;  you  must  remember  it  well. 
If  I  mistake  not,  there  is  a  well  close  be- 
side it.  I  remember  resting  there  one 
hot  and  sultry  day  in  July.  It  was  an 
eventful  day,  too — we  beat  the  king's 
troops,  and  took  seventy  prisoners ;  and  I 
rode  from  Arklow  down  here  to  bring  up 
some  ammunition  that  we  had  secreted  in 
one  of  the  lead-mines.  Well  I  recollect 
falling  asleep  beside  that  well,  and  having 
such  a  delightful  dream  of  home,  when  I 
was  a 'child,  and  of  a  pony  which  Marie 
used  to  ride  behind  me,  and  I  thought  we 
were  galloping  through  the  vineyard,  she 
grasping  me  round  the  waist,  half  laugh- 
ing, half  in  fear  ;  and  when  I  awoke  I  could 
not  remember  where  I  was.  I  should  like 
to  see  that  old  spot  again,  and  I  feel  strong 
enough  now  to  try  it." 

I  endeavored,  with  all  my  power  of  per- 
suasion, to  prevent  his  attempting  to  walk 
such  a  distance,  and  in  the  night  air  too  ; 
but  the  more  I  reasoned  against,  the  more 
bent  was  he  on  the  project,  and  at  last  I 
was  obliged  to  yield  a  reluctant  consent, 
and  assist  him  to  rise  and  dress. 

The  energy  which  animated  him  at  first 
scon  sank  under  the  effort,  and  before  we 
had  gone  a  quarter  of  a  mile  he  grew 
faint  and  weary,  still  he  persevered,  and, 


leaning    heavily  on   my  arm,  he    tottered 
along. 

••  It'  I  make  no  better  progress,"  said  he, 
smiling  sadly,  "there  will  be  no  need  to 
assist  me  coming  back." 

Atlas!  we  reached  the  rain,  which,  like 
many  of  the  old  churches  in  Ireland,  wa-a 
a  mere  gable,  overgrown  with  ivy,  and 
pierced  with  a  single  window,  whose  rudely 
formed  arch  betokened  great  antiqnity. 
Vestiges  of  the  side  walls  remained  in 
pact,  hut  the  inside  of  the  building  was 
tilled  with  tombstones  and  grave-mounds, 
selected  by  the  people  as  being  a  pla 
more  than  ordinary  sanctity  ;  among  these 
the  rank  dock  weeds  and  nettles  grew 
luxuriantly,  and  the  tall  grass  lay  heavy 
and  matted.  We  sat  for  some  time  looking 
on  this  sad  spot  :  a  few  garlands  were 
withering  on  some  rude  crosses  of  stick,  to 
mark  the  latest  of  those  who  sought  their 
rest  there,  and  upon  these  my  companion's 
eyes  were  bent  with  a  melancholy  meaning. 

How  long  we  sat  there  in  silence  I  know 
not,  hut  a  rustling  of  the  ivy  behind  me 
was  the  first  thing  to  attract  my  attention. 
I  turned  quickly  round,  and  in  the  window 
of  the  ruin  beheld  the  head  of  a  man  bent 
eagerly  in  the  direction  we  were  in  ;  the 
moonlight  fell  upon  him  at  the  moment, 
and  I  saw  that  the  face  was  blackened. 

"  Who's  that  ?  "  I  called  aloud,  as  with 
my  finger  I  directed  De  Meudon  to  the 
spot.  No  answer  was  returned,  and  I 
repeated  my  question  yet  louder,  but  still 
no  reply,  while  I  could  mark  that  the  head 
was  turned  slightly  round,  as  if  to  speak 
with  some  one  without.  The  noise  of  feet, 
and  the  low  murmur  of  several  voices,  now 
came  from  the  side  of  the  ruin,  and  at  the 
same  instant  some  dozen  men,  their  faces 
blackened,  and  wearing  a  white  badge  on 
their  hats,  stood  up  as  if  out  of  the  very 
ground  around  us. 

"What  are  you  doing  here  at  this  time 
of  night  ?"  said  a  hard  voice,  in  tones  that 
boded  but  little  kindliness. 

"We  are  as  free  to  walk  the  country, 
when  we  like  it,  as  you  are,  I  hope,"  was 
my  answer. 

"I  know  his  voice  well."  said  another 
of  the  crowd.      "I  told  you  it  was  them." 

"Is  it  you  that  stop  at  Wild's,  in  the 
glen  ?"  said  the  first  speaker. 

"  Yes,"  replied  I. 

"  And  is  it  to  get  share  of  what's  going 
that  ye're  come  to  join  us  now  ?"  repeated 
he,  in  a  tone  of  mockery. 

"  Be  easy,  Lanty — 'tis  the  French  officer 

that  behaved  so  stout  up  at  Ross  :  it's  little 

!  he  cares  for  money,  as   myself  knows.     I 

saw  him  throw  a  handful  of  Gfoold  among 


%12 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


the  boys  when  they  slopped  to  pillage,  and 
bid  them  do  their  work  first,  and  that  he'd 
give  them  plenty  after/' 

"Maybe  he'd  do  the  same  now,"  said  a 
voice  from  the  crowd,  in  a  tone  of  irony  ; 
and  the  words  were  received  by  the  rest 
with  a  roar  of  laughter. 

"Stop  laughing,"  said  the  first  speaker, 
in  a  voice  of  command  ;  "  we've  small  time 
for  joking."  Ashe  spoke  he  threw  him- 
self heavily  on  the  bank  beside  De  Meudon, 
and,  placing  his  hand  familiarly  on  his 
arm,  said,  in  a  low,  but  clear  voice,  "  The 
boys  is  come  up  here  to-night  to  draw 
lots  for  three  men  to  settle  Barton,  that's 
come  down  here  yesterday,  and  stopping  at 
the  barrack  there.  We  knew  you  warn't 
well  lately,  and  we  didn't  trouble  you  ;  but 
now  that  you're  come  up  of  yourself  among 
us,  it's  only  fair  and  reasonable  you'd  take 
your  chance  with  the  rest,  and  draw  your 
lot  with  the  others." 

"Arrah  he's  too  weak — the  man  is  dy- 
ing," said  a  voice  near. 

"And  if  he  is,"  said  the  other,  "who 
wants  his  help,  sure,  isn't  it  to  keep  him 
quiet,  and  not  bethray  us."- 

"  The  devil  a  fear  of  that,"  said  the  for- 
mer speaker  ;  "  he's  thrue  to  the  backbone; 
I  know  them  that  knows  him  well." 

By  this  time  De  Meudon  had  risen  to  his 
feet,  and  stood  leaning  upon  a  tall  head- 
stone beside  him  ;  his  foraging  cap  fell  off  in 
bis  effort  to  stand,  and  his  long  thin  hair 
floated  in  masses  down  his  pale  cheeks  and 
on  his  shoulders  ;  the  moon  was  full  upon 
him,  and  what  a  contrast  did  his  noble 
features  present  to  the  ruffian  band  that  sat 
and  stood  around  him. 

"And  is  it  a  scheme  of  murder — of  cold, 
cowardly  assassination  you  have  dared  to 
propose  to  me  ?  "  said  he,  darting  a  look  of 
fiery  indignation  on  him  who  seemed  the 
leader.  "  Is  it  thus  you  understand  my 
presence  in  your  country,  and  in  your  cause  ? 
Think  ye  it  was  for  this  that  I  left  the 
glorious  army  of  France — that  I  quitted  the 
field  of  honorable  war  to  mix  with  such  as 
you  !  Ay,  if  it  were  the  last  word  I  were 
to  speak  on  earth,  I'd  denounce  you, 
wretches  that  stain  with  blood  and  mas- 
sacre the  sacred  cause  the  best  and  boldest 
bleed  for." 

The  click  of  a  trigger  sounded  harshly 
on  my  ear,  and  my  blood  ran  cold  with 
horror  ;  De  Meudon  heard  it  too,  and  con- 
tinued : 

"  You  do  but  cheat  me  of  an.hour  or  two, 
and  I  am  ready." 

He  paused,  as  if  waiting  for  the  shot. 
A  deadly  silence  followed,  it  lasted  for  some 
minutes,  when  again  he  spoke  : 


"I  came  here  to-night  not  knowing  of 
your  intentions,  not  expecting  you  ;  I  came 
here  to  choose  a  grave,  where,  before  an- 
other week  pass  over,  I  hoped  to  rest  ;  if 
you  will  it  sooner,  I  shall  not  gainsay  you." 

Low  murmurs  ran  through  the  crowd, 
and  something  like  a  tone  of  pity  could  be 
heard  mingling  through  the  voices. 

"Let  him  go  home,  then,  in  God's 
name  !  "  said  one  of  the  number  ;  "that's 
the  best  way." 

"  Ay,  take  him  home,"  said  another,  ad- 
dressing me.  "  .Dan  Kelly's  a  hard  man 
when  he's  roused." 

The  words  were  repeated  on  every  side, 
and  I  led  De  Meudon  forth  leaning  on  my 
arm,  for  already,  the  excitement  over,  a 
stupid  indifference  crept  over  him,  and  he 
walked  on  by  my  side  without  speaking. 

I  confess  it  was  not  without  trepidation, 
and  many  a  backward  glance  toward  the 
old  rum,  that  I  turned  homeward  to  our 
cabin.  There  was  that  in  their  looks  at 
which  I  trembled  for  my  companion,  nor 
do  I  yet  know  why  they  spared  him  at  that 
moment. 


CHAPTER  XL 


The  day  which  followed  the  events  I 
have  mentioned  was  a  sad  one  to  me.  The 
fatigue  and  the  excitement  together  brought 
on  fever  with  De  Meudon.  His  head  be- 
came attacked,  and  before  evening  his  facul- 
ties began  to  wander.  All  the  strange 
events  of  his  checkered  life  were  mixed  up 
in  his  disturbed  intellect,  and  he  talked  on 
for  hours  about  Italy,  and  Egypt,  the 
Tuileries,  La  Vendee,  and  Ireland,  without 
ceasing.  The  entire  of  the  night  he  never 
slept,  and  the  next  day  the  symptoms 
appeared  still  more  aggravated.  The  fea- 
tures of  his  insanity  were  wilder  and  less 
controllable.  He  lost  all  memory  of  me, 
and  sometimes  the  sight  of  me  at  his  bed- 
side threw  him  into  most  terrific  par- 
oxysms of  passion  ;  while,  at  others,  he 
would  hold  my  hand  for  hours  together, 
and  seemed  to  feel  my  presence  as  some- 
thing soothing.  His  frequent  recurrence 
to  the  scone  in  the  churchyard  showed  the 
deep  impression  it  had  made  upon  his 
mind,  and  how  fatally  it  had  influenced 
the  worst  symptoms  of  his  malady. 

Thus  passed  two  days  and  nights.  On 
the  third  morning  exhaustion  seemed  to 
have  worn  him  into  a  false  calm.  His  wild, 
staring  eye  had  become  heavier  ;  its  move- 
ments less  rapid  ;  the  spot  of  color  had  left 


"  BURKE  !     TOM    BTIRKE,     DON'T    BE    VIOLENT,     DON'T    BE    OUTRAGEOUS,     YOU     SEE     I'M    AKMED  I 
I'D  CUT   YOU    DOWN   WITHOUT    MERCY   IP   YOU   ATTEMPT    TO    LIFT   A   FINGER  I  "      (P.  284.) 


TO M  BURKE   OF  "OURS. 


273 


his  cheek  ;  the  mouth  was  pinched  up  and 
rigid  ;  and  a  flatness  of  the  muscles  of  the 
face  betokened  complete  depression.  He 
spoke  seldom,  and  with  a  voice  lionise  and 
cavernous,  but  no  longer  in  the  tour  of 
wild  excitement  as  before.  I  sat  by  his 
bedside  still  and  in  silence,  my  own  sad 
thoughts  my  only  company.  As  it  grew 
later,  the  sleepless  days  ana  nights  I  had 
passed,  and  the  stillness  of  the  sick-room, 
overcame  me,  and  I  slept. 

I  awoke  with  a  start :  some  dreamy  con- 
sciousness of  neglect  had  flashed  across  me, 
and  I  sat  up.  1  peeped  into  the  bed,  and 
started  back  with  amazement.  I  looked 
again,  and  there  lay  De  Meudon,  on  the 
outside  of  the  clothes,  dressed  in  his  full 
uniform — the  green  coat  and  white  facing, 
the  large  gold  epaulettes,  the  brilliant 
crosses  on  the  breast ;  his  plumed  chapeau 
lay  at  one  side  of  him,  and  his  sabre  at  the 
other.  He  lay  still  and  motionless.  I  held 
the  candle  near  his  face,  and  could  mark  a 
slight  smile  that  curled  his  cold  lip,  and 
gave  to  his  wan  and  wasted  features  some- 
thing of  their  former  expression. 

"  Oui,  mon  clier,"  said  he,  in  a  weak  whis- 
per, as  he  took  my  hand  and  kissed  it, 
" e'est  Men  moi;"  and  then  added,  "it 
was  another  of  my  strange  fancies  to  put 
on  these  once  more  before  I  died  ;  and, 
when  I  found  you  sleeping,  I  arose  and  did 
so.  I  have  changed  something  since  I 
wore  this  last :  it  was  at  a  ball  at  Camba- 
Ceres. " 

My  joy  at  hearing  him  speak  once  more, 
with  full  possession  of  -his  reason,  was 
damped  by  the  great  change  a  few  hours 
had  worked  in  his  appearance.  His  skin 
was  cold  and  clammy  ;  a  gluey  moisture 
rested  on  his  cheek,  and  his  teeth  were 
dark  and  discolored.  A  slimy  froth,  too, 
was  ever  rising  to  his  lips  as  he  spoke, 
while  at  every  respiration  his  chest  heaved 
and  waved  like  a  stormy  sea. 

"You  are  thirsty,  Charles,"  said  I, 
stooping  over  him  to  wet  his  lips. 

"No,"  said  he,  calmly,  "I  have  but  one 
thing  which  wants  relief  ;  it  is  here." 

lie  pressed  his  hand  to  his  heart  as  he 
spoke,  while  such  a  look  of  misery  as 
crossed  his  features  I  never  beheld. 

"Your  heart — " 

"Is  broken,"  said  he,  with  a  sigh. 

For  .some  minutes  he  said  nothing,  then 
whispered, 

"  Take  my  pocket-book  from  beneath  my 
pillow — yes,  that's  it.  There  is  a  letter 
you'll  give  my  sister — you'll  promise  me 
that  ;  well,  the  other  is  for  Lecharlier,  the 
chef  of  the  Polytechnique  at  Paris — that  is 
for  you — you  must  be  un  eUve  there. 
vol.  i. — 18 


There  are  some  live  or  six  thousand  francs 
—it's  all  I  have  now — they  are  yours. 
Marie  is  already  provided  for — tell  her 
but  no,  she  has  forgiven  un:  long  sine* — I 
feel  it.  You'll  one  day  win  your  grade — 
high  up  ;  yes.  yon  inusl  do  so.  Perhaps  it 
may  be  your  fortune  to  Bpeak  with  General 
Bonaparte  ;  if  -o,  1  beg  yon  say  to  him 
that,  when  Charles  de  Meudon  was  dying 
— in  exile — with  bur  one  friend  left  oi  all 
the  world,  he  held  this  portrait  to  his  lips, 
and,  with  his  last  breath,  he  kissed  it." 

The  fervor  of  the  action  drew  the  Mood 
to  his  face  and  temples,  which  as  sudden- 
ly became  pale  again;  a  shivering  ran 
through  his  limbs — a  quick  heaving  of  his 
bosom— a  sigh — and  all  was  still.  He  was 
dead. 

The  stunning  sense  of  deep  affliction  is  a 
mercy  from  on  high.  Weak  human  facul- 
ties, long  strained  by  daily  communing 
with  grief,  would  fall  into  idiocy,  \. 
their  acuteness  not  blunted,  and  their  per- 
ception rendered  dull.  It  is  for  memory 
to  trace  back  through  the  mazes  of  misery 
the  object  of  our  sorrow,  as  the  widow 
searches  for  the  corpse  of  him  she  loved 
amid  the  slain  upon  the  battle-field. 

I  sat  benumbed  with  sorrow,  a  vague  de- 
sire for  the  breaking  day  my  only  thought. 

Already  the  indistinct  glimmerings  of 
morning  were  visible,  when  I  heard  the 
sounds  of  men  marching  along  the  road 
toward  the  house.  I  could  mark,  by  the 
clank  of  their  firelocks,  and  their  regular 
step,  that  they  were  soldiers.  They  halted 
at  the  door  of  the  cabin,  whence  a  loud 
knocking  now  proceeded. 

"Holloa,  there!"  said  a  voice,  whose 
tones  seemed  to  sink  into  my  very  heart — 
"holloa,  Peter  !  get  up  and  open  the  door. "' 

"  What's  the  matter  ? "  cried  the  old 
man,  starting  up,  and  groping  his  way  to- 
ward the  door. 

The  sound  of  several  voices,  and  the 
noise  of  approaching  footsteps  drowned  the 
reply  ;  and  the  same  instant  the  door  of 
the  little  room  in  which  I  sat  opened,  and 
a  sergeant  entered. 

"Sorry  to  disturb  ye,  sir,"  said  he,  civ- 
illy, "  but  duty  can't  be  a. voided.  I  have 
a  warrant  to  arrest  Captain  de  Meudon,  a 
French  officer  that  is  concealed  here.  May 
I  ask  where  is  he  ?  " 

I  pointed  to  the  bed. 

The  sergeant  approached,  and  by  the 
half-light  could  just  perceive  the  glitter  of 
the  uniform,  as  the  body  lay  shaded  by  the 
curtain. 

"  I  arrest  you,  sir,  in  the  King's  name  !  " 
said  he.  "Holloa,  Kelly !  this  is  your 
prisoner,  isn't  he  ?  " 


274 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


Ahead  appeared  at  the  door  as  he  spoke, 

and,  as  the  eyes  wandered  stealthily  round 
the  chamber,  I  recognized,  despite  the 
change  of  color,  the  wretch  who  led  the 
party  at  the  churchyard. 

"Come  in,  d — n  ye,"  said  the  sergeant 
impatiently;  "what  are  you  afraid  for? 
Is  this  your  man  ?  Holloa  !  sir,"  said  he, 
shaking  the  corpse  by  the  shoulder. 

"  You  must  call  even  louder  yet,"  said 
I,  while  something  like  the  fury  of  a  fiend 
was  working  within  me. 

"  What  ! "  said  the  sergeant,  snatching 
up  the  light  and  holding  it  within  the  bed. 
He  started  back  in  horror  as  he  did  so,  and 
called  out,  "  He  is  dead  !  " 

Kelly  sprang  forward  (at  the  word,  and 
seizing  the  candle,  held  it  down  to  the 
face  of  the  corpse  ;  but  the  flame  rose  as 
steadily  before  those  cold  lips  as  though  the 
breath  of  life  had  never  warmed  them. 

"I'll  get  the  reward,  anyhow,  sergeant, 
won't  I  ?  "  said  the  ruffian,  while  the  thirst 
for  gain  added  fresh  expression  to  his  sav- 
age features. 

A  look  of  disgust  was  the  only  reply  he 
met  with,  as  the  sergeant  walked  into  the 
outer  room,  and  whispered  something  to 
the  man  of  the  house.  At  the  same  in- 
stant the  galloping  of  a  horse  was  heard  on 
the  causeway.  It  came  nearer  and  nearer, 
and  ceased  suddeuly  at  the  door,  as  a  dee]) 
voice  shouted  out, 

"  Well,  all  right,  I  hope,  sergeant.  Is 
he  safe  ?  " 

A  whispered  reply,  and  a  low,  muttered 
sound  of  two  or  three  voices  followed,  and 
Barton — the  same  man  I  had  seen  at  the 
fray  in  Malone's  cabin — entered  the  room. 
He  approached  the  bed,  and  drawing  back 
the  curtains  rudely,  gazed  on  the  dead 
man,  while  over  his  shoulder  peered  the 
demoniac  countenance  of  the  informer, 
Kelly,  his  savage  features  working  in  anx- 
iety lest  his  gains  should  have  escaped 
him. 

Barton's  eye  ranged  the  little  chamber 
till  it  fell  on  me,  as  I  sat  still  and  motion- 
less against  the  wall.  He  started  slightly, 
and  then  advancing  close,  fixed  his  piercing- 
glance  upon  me. 

"Ha!"  cried  he,  "you  here!  Well, 
that  is  more  than  I  looked  for  this  morn- 
ing. I  have  a  short  score  to  settle  with 
you.  Sergeant,  here's  one  prisoner  for 
you,  at  any  rate." 

"Yes,"  said  Kelly,  springing  forward, 
"  he  was  at  the  churchyard  with  the  other  ; 
I'll  swear  to  that" 

"  I  think  we  can  do  without  your  valua- 
ble aid  in  this  business,"  said  Barton,  smil- 
ing   maliciously.     "  Come    along,    young 


gentleman,   we'll  try  and  finish  the  educa 
tion  tlini  has  begun  so  prosperously." 

My  eyes  involuntarily  turned  to  the  table 
where  De  Meudon's  pistols  were  lying.  The 
utter  hopelessness  of  such  a  contest  deterred 
me  not,  I  sprang  toward  them  ;  but,  as  I 
did  so,  the  strong  hand  of  Barton  was  on 
my  collar,  and,  with  a  hoarse  laugh,  he 
threw  me  back  against  the  wall,  as  he 
called  out, 

"  Folly,  boy — mere  folly  ;  you  are  quite 
sure  of  the  rope  without  that.  Here,  take 
him  off." 

As  he  spoke,  two  soldiers  seized  me  on 
either  side,  and,  before  a  minute  elapsed, 
pinioned  my  arms  behind  my  back.  In 
another  moment  the  men  fell  in,  the  order 
was  given  to  march,  and  I  was  led  away 
between  the  files,  Kelly  following  at  the 
rear  ;  while  Barton's  voice  might  be  heard 
issuing  from  the  cabin,  as  he  gave  his  or- 
ders for  the  burial  of  the  body,  and  the  re- 
moval of  all  the  effects  and  papers  to  the 
barrack  at  Glencree. 

We  might  have  been  about  an  hour  on  the 
road  when  Barton  overtook  us.  He  rode  to 
the  head  of  the  party,  and,  handing  a  paper 
to  the  sergeant,  muttered  some  words — 
among  which  I  could  only  gather  the 
phrase,  "  Committed  to  Newgate;"  then, 
"turning  round  in  his  saddle,  he  fixed  his 
eyes  on  Kelly,  who,  like  a  beast  of  prey, 
continued  to  hang  upon  the  track  of  his 
victim. 

"Well,  Dan,"  cried  he,  "you  may  go 
home  again  now.  lam  afraid  you've  gained 
nothing  this  time* but  character," 

"  Home  ! "  muttered  the  wretch,  in  a 
voice  of  agony  ;  "is  it  face  home  after  this 
morning's  work  ?" 

"  And  why  not,  man  ?  Take  my  word 
for  it,  the  neighbors  will  be  too  much  afraid 
to  meddle  with  you  now." 

"  Oh  !  Mister  Barton — oh,  darling  !  don't 
send  me  back  there,  for  the  love  of  Heaven  ! 
Take  me  with  you,"  cried  the  miserable 
wretch,  in  tones  of  heart-moving  misery. 
"  Oh,  young  gentleman,"  said  he,  turning 
toward  me,  and  catching  me  by  the  sleeve, 
"  spake  a  word  for  me  this  day." 

"  Don't  you  think  he  has  enough 
of  troubles  of  his  own  to  think  of,  Dan  ?" 
said  Barton,  with  a  tone  of  seeming  kind- 
liness. "  Go  back,  man — go  back  ;  there's 
plenty  of  work  before  you  in  this  very 
country.  Don't  lay  your  hand  on  me,  you 
scoundrel  ;  your  touch  would  pollute  a 
hangman." 

The  man  fell  back  as  if  stunned  at  the 
sound  of  these  words  ;  his  face  became 
livid,  and  his  lips  white  as  snow.  He  stag- 
gered  a  pace  or  two,  like  a  drunken  man. 


TOM  B  URKE   OF  "01  'US. " 


27: 


and  then  stood  stock  still,  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  road. 

"Quick  march  !  "  said  the  sergeant. 

The  soldiers  stepped  out  again  ;  and  as 
we  turned  the  angle  of  the  road,  about  a 
mile  further,  I  beheld  Kelly  still  standing 
in  the  self-same  altitude  we  left  him.  Bar- 
ton, al'ier  .•■:>iue  order  to  the  sergeant,  soon 
left  us,  and  we  continued  our  march 
till  near  nine  o'clock,  when  the  party  halted 
to  breakfast.  They  pressed  me  to  eat  with 
every  kind  entreaty,  but  I  could  taste  noth- 
ing, and  we  resumed  our  road  after  half  an 
hour  ;  but,  the  day  becoming  oppressively 
hot,  it  was  deemed  better  to  defer  our 
march  till  near  sunset.  We  stopped,  then, 
during  the  noon,  in  a  shady  thicket  near  the 
roadside,  where  the  men,  unbuckling  their 
knapsacks  and  loosening  their  stocks,  lay 
down  in  the  deep  grass,  either  chatting  to- 
gether or  smoking.  The  sergeant  made  many 
attempts  to  draw  me  into  conversation,  but 
my  heart  was  too  full  of  its  own  sensations 
either  to  speak  or  listen  ;  so  he  abandoned 
the  pursuit  with  a  good  grace,  and  betook 
himself  to  his  pipe  at  the  foot  of  a  tree, 
where,  after  its  last  whiff  escaped,  he  sank 
into  a  heavy  sleep. 

Such  of  the  party  as  ^ere  not  disposed 
for  sleep  gathered  together  in  a  little  knot 
on  a  small  patch  of  green  grass,  in  the  mid- 
dle of  a  beech  clump,  where,  having  ar- 
ranged themselves  with  as  much  comfort  as 
the  place  permitted,  began  chatting  away 
over  their  life  and  its  adventures  pleasantly 
and  freely.  I  was  glad  to  seek  any  distrac- 
tion from  my  own  gloomy  thoughts  in  lis- 
tening to  them,  as  I  lay  only  a  few  yards 
off  ;  but,  though  I  endeavored  with  all  my 
might  to  attend  to,  and  take  interest  in, 
their  converse,  my  thoughts  always  turned 
to  him  I  had  lost  forever — the  first,  the 
only  friend  I  had  ever  known. 

All  care  for  myself  and  what  fortune 
awaited  me  was  merged  in  my  sorrow  for 
him.  If  not  indifferent  to  my  fate,  I  was 
at  least  unmindful  of  it,  and  although  the 
words  of  those  near  me  fell  upon  my  ear,  I 
neither  heard  nor  marked  them.  From 
this  dreamy  lethargy  I  was  at  last  suddenly 
aroused  by  the  hearty  bursts  of  laughter 
that  broke  from  the  party,  and  a  loud  clap- 
ping of  hands  that  denoted  their  applause 
of  something,  or  somebody  then  before 
them. 

"  I  say,  George,"  said  one  of  the  soldiers, 
"he's  a  queer  un  too,  that  piper." 

"  Yes, — he's  a  droll  chap,"  responded  the 
other,  solemnly,  as  he  rolled  forth  a  long  curl 
of  smoke  from  the  angle  of  his  mouth. 

"  Can  you  play  '  Kule  Britannia,'  then  ?  " 
asked  another  of  the  men. 


"  No,  sir,"  said  a  voice  I  at  once  knew  to 
be  no  other  than  my  friend  Darby's— "no, 
Bir ;  but  av  the  'Fox's  Lament,'  or 
•-Mary's  Dream  '  wasn't  uncongenial  to 
your  sentiments,   it  would   I  city  to 

me  to  expatiate  upon  the  same  b<  fore  yez." 

"  Eh,  Bell,"  ei  ied  a  rough  voi 
I  hat  beal  you  now  ?  " 

"No,"   said    another,     "not   a  bil  ;    he 
he'll   give   us  something   Irish    in- 
stead; he  don't  know  'Rule  Britannia!'" 

"Not  know  'Rule  Britannia!'  why 
where  the  devil  were  you  ever  bred  or  born', 
man  —eh  ?" 

"Kerry,  sir,  the  kingdom  of  Kerry, was 
the  nativity  of  my  father.     My  ma 
progenitrix  emanated  from  Clare.     Maybe 
you've  heard  the  adage — 


'From    Kerry    his    father,  from   Clare  came  hi.s 

mother, 
He's  more  rogue  nor  fool  on  or  and  the 

other.' 


Not  but  that,  in  my  humble  individuality, 
I  am  an  exceptious  illustration  of  the  pro- 
verbial catastrophe." 

Another  shout  of  rude  laughter  from  his 
audience  followed  this  speech,  amid  the 
uproar  of  which  Darby  began  tuning  his 
pipes,  as  if  perfectly  unaware  that  any  sin- 
gularity on  his  part  had  called  forth  the 
mirth. 

"  Well,  what  are  we  to  have,  old  fellow, 
after  all  that  confounded  squeaking  and 
grunting  ? "  said  he  who  appeared  the 
chief  spokesman  of  the  party. 

"  "Tis  a  trifling  production  of  my  own 
muse,  sir — a  kind  of  biographical,  poetical, 
and  categorical  dissertation  of  the  delights, 
devices,  and  daily  doings  of  your  obaydient 
servant,  and  ever  submissive  slave,  Darby 
the  Blast." 

Though  it  was  evident  very  little  of  this 
eloquent  announcement  was  comprehended 
by  the  party,  their  laughter  was  not  less 
ready,  and  a  general  chorus  proclaimed 
their  attention  to  the  song. 

Darby  accordingly  assumed  his  wonted 
dignity  of  port,  and  Inning  given  some 
half  dozen  premonitory  flourishes,  which 
certainly  had  the  effect  of  astonishing  and 
overawing  the  audience,  he  began  to  the 
air  of  "  The  Night  before  Larry  was 
stretched,''  the  following  ditty  : — 

DARBY  THE  BLAST. 

Oh  !  my  name  it  is  Darby  the  Blast, 

My  country  is  Ireland  all  over. 
Mv  religion  is  never  to  fast, 

But  live,  as  I  wander,  in  clover  : 


276 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


To  make  fun  for  myself  every  day, 
The  ladies  to  plaze  when  I'm  able, 

The  boys  to  amuse,  as  1  play, 
An  make  the  jugs  dance  on  the  table. 
Oli!  success  to  the  chanter,  my  dear. 

Your  eyes  on  each  side  yen  may  cast, 

But  there  isn't  a  house  that  is  near  ye 
But  they're  glad  to  have  Darby  the  Blast, 

And  they'll  tell  ye  'tis  he  that  can  cheer  ye. 
Oh!  "lis  he  can  put  life  in  a  feast, 

What  music  lies  under  his  knuckle, 
As  he  plays  "  Will  1  send  for  the  Priest  ?" 

Or  a  jig  they  call  "  Cover  the  Buckle." 

Oh  !  good  luck  to  the  chanter,  your  sowl. 

But  give  me  an  audience  in  rags, 

They're  illigant  people  for  list'ning  ; 
'Tis  they  that  can  humor  the  bags, 

As  1  rise  a  tine  tune  at  a  christ'ning. 
There's  many  a  weddin'  I  make 

Where  they  never  get  further  nor  sighing  ; 
And  when  I  perform  at  a  wake, 

The  corpse  looks  delighted  at  dying. 

Oh  !  success  to  the  chanter,  your  sowl. 

"Eh!  what's  that?"  cried  a  gruff 
voice  ;  "  the  corpse  does  what  ?  " 

"  'Tis  a  rhetorical  amplifi cation,  that 
means,  he  wpuld  if  he  could,"  said  Darby, 
stopping  to  explain. 

"I  say,"  said  another,  "that's  all  gam- 
mon and  stuff ;  a  corpse  couldn't  know 
what  was  doing — eh  !  old  fellow  ?" 

"'Tis  an  Irish  corpse  I  was  describin'," 
said  Darby,  proudly,  and  evidently,  while 
sore  pushed  for  an  explanation,  having  a 
severe  struggle  to  keep  down  his  contempt 
for  the  company  that  needed  it. 

An  effort  I  made  at  this  moment  to  ob- 
tain a  nearer  view  of  the  party,  from  whom 
I  was  slightly  separated  by  some  low  brush- 
wood, brought  my  hand  in  contact  wich 
something,  sharp  ;  I  started  and  looked 
round,  and  to  my  astonishment  saw  a  clasp- 
knife,  such  as  gardeners  carry,  lying  open 
beside  me.  In  a  second  I  guessed  the 
meaning  of  this.  It  had  been  so  left  by 
Darby,  to  give  me  an  opportunity  of  cutting 
the  cords  that  bound  my  arms,  and  thus  fa- 
cilitating my  escape.  His  presence  was 
doubtless  there  for  this  object,  and  all  the 
entertaining  powers  he  displayed  only 
brought  forth  to  occupy  the  soldiers'  at- 
tention while  I  effected  my  deliverance. 
Kegret  for  the  time  lost  was  my  first 
thought,  my  second,  more  profitable,  was 
not  to  waste  another  moment ;  so  kneeling 
down  I  managed  with  the  knife  to  cut  some 
of  my  fastenings,  and  after  some  little 
struggle  freed  one  arm  ;  to  liberate  the 
other  was  the  work  of  a  second,  and  I 
stood  up  untrammeled.  What  was  to  be 
clone  next  ?  for  although  at  liberty,  the 
soldiers  lay  nbout  me  on  every  side,  and  es- 
cape seemed  impossible  ;    besides,  I  knew 


not  where  to  turn,  where  to  look  for  one 
friendly  face,  nor  any  one  who  would  af- 
ford me  shelter.  Just  then  I  heard  Dar- 
by's voice  raised  above  its  former  pitch., 
and  evidently  intended  to  be  heard  by  me. 

"Sure  there's  Captain  Bubbleton,  of  the 
Forty-fifth  Regiment,  now  in  Dublin,  m 
George's-street  Barracks.  Ay,  in  George's- 
street  Barracks,"  said  he,  repeating  the 
words  as  if  to  impress  them  on  me.  "'Tis 
himself  could  tell  you  what  I  say  is  thrue  ; 
and  if  you  wouldn't  put  confidential  au- 
thentification  on  the  information  of  a  poor 
leather-squeezing,  timber-ticking  crayture 
like  myself,  sure  you'd  have  reverential 
obaydience  to  your  own  commissioned  cap- 
tain. " 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  much  of  that  song 
of  yours,  anyhow,  eld  Blow,  or  Blast,  or 
whatever  your  name  is.  Have  you  nothing 
about  the  service — eh  ?  '  The  British  Gren- 
adiers,' give  us  that." 

"Yes;  'The  British  Grenadiers/  that's 
the  tunc  !  "  cried  a  number  of  the  party  to- 
gether. 

"I  never  heard  them  play  but  onst,  sir," 
said  Darby,  meekly,  "  and  they  wrere  in  sich 
a  hurry  that  day,  I  couldn't  pick  up  the 
tune." 

"  A  hurry  !  what  el'you  mean  ?  "  said  the 
corporal. 

"  Yes,  sir,  'hvas  the  day  but  one  after  the 
French  landed  ;  and  the  British  Grenadiers 
that  you  were  talking  of  was  running  away 
toward  Castlebar." 

"  What's  that  you  say  there  ?  "  cried  out 
one  of  the  soldiers,  in  a  voice  of  passion. 

"  'Tis  that  they  wor  running  away,  sir," 
replied  Darby,  with  a  most  insulting  cool- 
ness :  "and  small  blame  to  thim  for  that 
same,  av  they  wor  frightened." 

In  an  instant  the  party  sprang  to  their 
legs,  while  a  perfect  shower  of  curses  fell 
upon  the  luckless  piper,  and  fifty  humane 
proposal's  to  smash  his  skull,  break  big  neck 
and  every  bone  in  his  body,  were  mooted 
on  all  sides.  Meanwhile,  M'Keown  remon- 
strated in  a  spirit  which  in  a  minute  I  per- 
ceived was  not  intended  to  appease  their 
irritation  ;  on  the  contrary,  his  apologies 
were  couched  in  very  different  guise,  being 
rather  excuses  for  his  mishap  in  having 
started  a  disagreeable  topic,  than  any  re- 
gret for  the  mode  in  which  he  treated  it. 

"And  sure,  sir,"  continued  he,  address- 
ing the  corporal,  "'twasn't  my  fault  av 
they  tuck  to  their  heels  ;  wouldn't  any  one 
run  for  his  life  av  he  had  the  opportunity." 

He  raised  his  voice  once  more  at  these 
words  with  such  significance,  that  I  resolved 
to  profit  by  the  counsel  if  the  lucky  mo- 
ment should  offer.     I  had  not  long  to  wait 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


277 


— the  insulting  manner  of  Darby,  still 
more  than  his  words,  had  provoked  them 
beyond  endurance,  and  one  of  the  soldiers, 
drawing  his  bayonet,  drove  it  through  the 
leather  bag  of  his  pipes;  a  shout  of  rage 
from  the  piper,  and  a  knock-down  blow  thai 
L<  veled  the  offender,  replied  to  the  insult. 
[n  an  instant  the  whole  party  were  upon 
him — their  very  numbers,  however,  defeat- 
ed their  vengeance  ;  as  I  could  hear  from 
the  tone  of  Darby's  voice,  who,  far  from 
declining  the  combat,  continued  to  throw 
in  every  possible  incentive  to  battle,  as  he 
struck  right  and  left  of  him.  "Ah,  you 
got  that — well  done — 'tis  brave  you  arc — 
ten  against  one — devil  fear  you  !  " 

The  scuffle  by  this  time  had  brought  the 
sergeant  to  the  spot,  who  in  vain  endea- 
vored to  ascertain  the  cause  of  the  tumult, 
as  they  rolled  over  one  another  on  the 
ground,  while  caps,  belts,  and  fragments 
of  bag}) i  pes,  were  scattered  about  on  every 
side.  The  uproar  had  now  reached  its 
height,  and  Darby's  yells  and  invectives 
were  poured  forth  with  true  native  fluency. 
The  moment  seemed  propitious  to  me.  I 
was  free — no  one  near  :  the  hint  about 
Bubbleton  was  evidently  intended  for  my 
guidance.  I  crept  stealthily  a  few  yards 
beneath  the  brushwood,  and  emerged  safe- 
ly upon  the  road.  The  sounds  of  the  con- 
flict, amid  which  Darby's  own  voice  rose 
pre-eminent,  told  me  that  all  were  too  busi- 
ly engaged  to  waste  a  thought  on  me.  I 
pressed  forward  at  my  best  pace  and  soon 
reached  the  crest  of  a  hill,  from  which  the 
view  extended  for  miles  on  every  side  ;  my 
eyes,  however,  were  bent  in  but  one  direc- 
tion— they  turned  westward,  where  a  vast 
plain  stretched  away  toward  the  horizon,  it- 
varied  surfape  presenting  all  the  rich  and 
cultivated  beauty  of  a  garden,  villas  and 
mansions  surrounded  with  large  parks, 
waving  corn-fields  and  orchards,  in  all  the 
luxuriance  of  blossom.  Toward  the  east 
lay  the  sea,  the  coast  line  broken  into  jut- 
ting promontories  and  little  bays,  clotted 
with  white  cottages,  with  here  and  there 
some  white-sailed  skiff,  scarce  moving  in 
the  calm  air.  But  amid  all  this  outspread 
loveliness  of  view,  my  attention  was  fixed 
upon  a  dense  and  heavy  cloud  that  seemed 
balanced  in  the  bright  atmosphere  faraway 
in  the  distance  ;  thither  my  eyes  turned, 
and  on  that  spot  was  my  gaze  riveted,  for  I 
knew  that  beneath  that  canopy  of  dull 
smoke  lay  Dublin.  The  distant  murmur 
of  the  angry  voices  still  reached  me  as  I 
stood.  I  turned  one  backward  look,  the 
road  was  lonely,  not  a  shadow  moved  upon 
it  ;  before  me  the  mountain  road  descend- 
ed in  a  zigzag  course  till  it  reached  the  val- 


ley :  1  sprang  overthe  lowwall  thai  ski: 

the  wayside,  and  with  my  eyes  still  fixed 
upon  tin'  dark  cloud  I  hurried  on — my 
hearl  grew  lighter  with  everj  Btep,  and 
whenal  length  I  reached  the  shelter  of  a 
pine  wood,  and  perceived  do  sis  n  of  '  eing 
pursued,  my  spirits  rose  to  such  a  pitch  of 
excitement  'that  1  shouted  for  \  i  r\  joy. 

Fi  i-  above  an  hour  my  path  emit 
within  the  -heller  of  the  wood,  and  when 
al  last  I  emerged,  it  ws&  i  o1  without  a 
eofsudden  fear  thai  !  looked  back  upon 
the  mountains  which  frowned  above  me, 
and  seemed  still  so  near.  1  thought,  too, 
I  could  mark  figures  on  t!  od  ima- 

gined I  could  see  them  moving  backward 
and  forward,  like  persons  seeking  for  some- 
thing, and  then  I  shuddered  to  think  thai 
they  too  might  be  at  that  very  mon 
looking  at  me;  the  thought  added  fn 
speed  to  my  flight,  and  for  some  mile-  1 
pressed  forward  without  even  turning  once. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  as  I  drew  near 
the  city  ;  hungry  and  tired  as  1  was,  the 
fear  of  being  overtaken  was  uppermosl  in 
my  thoughts,  and  as  I  mingled  in  the 
crowds  that  strolled  along  the  roads  enjoy- 
ing the  delicious  calmness  of  a  eumm 
eve,  T  shrank  from  every  eve  like  something 
guilty,  and  feared  that  every  glance  that 
fell  on  me  was  detection  itself. 

It  was  not  until  I  entered  the  city,  and 
found  myself  traversing  the  crowded  and 
narrow  streets  that  formed  the  outskirts, 
that  I  felt  at  ease,  and  inquiring  my  way 
to  George's-street  Barracks,  I  hurried  on, 
regardless  of  the  strange  sights  and  sounds 
about.  At  that  hour,  the  humbler  portion 
of  the  population  was  all  astir  ;  their  daily 
work  ended,  they  were  either  strollimr  along 
with  their  families  for  an  evening  walk,  or 
standing  in  groups  around  the  numerous 
ballad-singers,  who  delighted  their  audience 
with  diatribes  against  "the  Union."  and 
ridiculous  attacks  on  the  ministry  of  the 
day.  These,  however,  were  not  always  un- 
molested, for,  as  I  passed  on,  I  saw  more 
than  one  errant  minstrel  seized  on  by  the 
soldiery,  and  hurried  off  to  the  guard-house 
to  explain  some  uncivil  or  equivocal  allusion 
to  Lord  Castlereagh  or  Mr.  Cook,  such  evi- 
dences of  arbitrary  power  being  sure  to 
elicit  a  hearty  groan  or  shout  of  derision 
from  the  mob,  which  in  turn  was  replied  to 
by  the  soldiers  ;  these  scolding  mati 
gave  an  appearance  of  tumult  to  the  town, 
which  on  some  occasions  did  not  stop  short 
at  mere  war  of  words. 

In  the  larger  and  better  streets  such  scenes 
were  unfrequent — but  here  patrols  of 
mounted  dragoons  or  police  passed  from 
time  to  time,   exchanging  aa  they  went 


278 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


certain  signals  as  to  the  state  of  the  city ; 
while  crowds  of  people  thronged  the  path- 
ways, and  conversed  in  a  low  tone,  which 
broke  forth  now  and  then  into  a  savage  yell 
as  often  as  some  interferenee  on  the  part  of 
the  military  seemed  to  excite  their  angry 
passions.  At  the  Castle  gates  the  crowd 
was  more  dense,  and  apparently  more  dar- 
ing, requiring  all  the  efforts  of  the  dragoons 
to  keep  (hem  from  pressing  against  the 
railings,  and  leave  a  space  for  the  exit  of 
carriages,  which  from  time  to  time  issued 
from  the  Castle  yard.  Few  of  these,  in- 
deed, went  forth  unnoticed.  Some  watch- 
ful eye  would  detect  the  occupant  as  he  lay 
back  to  escape  observation — his  name  would 
be  shouted  aloud,  as  an  inevitable  volley  of 
hisses  and  execrations  showered  upon  him  ; 
and  in  this  way  were  received  the  names  of 
Mr.  Bingham,  Colonel  Loftus,  the  Right 
Hon.  Denis  Browne,  Isaac  Corry,  and 
several  others  who  happened  that  day  to  be 
dming  with  the  Lord-Lieutenant,  and 
were  now  on  their  way  to  the  House  of 
Commons. 

Nothing  struck  me  so  much  in  the  scene 
as  the  real  or  apparent  knoAvledge  possessed 
by  the  mob  of  all  the  circumstances  of 
each  individual's  personal  and  political 
career ;  and  thus  the  price  for  which  they 
had  been  purchased — either  in  rank,  place, 
or  pounds  sterling,  was  cried  aloud  amid 
shouts  of  derision  and  laughter,  or  the  more 
vindictive  yells  of  an  infuriated  populace. 

"  Ha  !  Ben,  what  are  you  to  get  for  Bal- 
tinglass  ?  Boroughs  is  up  in  the  market. — 
Well,  Dick,  you  won't  take  the  place — ■ 
nothing  but  hard  cash. — Don't  be  hiding, 
Jemmy. — Look  at  the  Prince  of  Orange, 
boys. — A  groan  for  the  Prince  of  Orange  !" 
here  a  fearful  groan  from  the  mob  echoed 
through  the  streets.  "There's  Luke  Fox 
— ha  !  stole  away  ! "  here  followed  another 
yell. 

With  difficulty  I  elbowed  my  way  through 
the  densely-packed  crowd,  and  at  last 
reached  the  corner  of  George's  street,  where 
a  strong  police  force  was  stationed,  not 
permitting  the  passage  of  any  one  either  up 
or  down  that  great  thoroughfare.  Finding 
it  impossible  to  penetrate  by  this  way,  I 
continued  along  Dame  street,  where  I  found 
the  crowd  to  thicken  as  I  advanced.  Not 
only  were  the  pathways,  but  the  entire 
streets  filled  with  people — through  whom 
the  dragoons  could  with  difficulty  force  a 
passage  for  the  carriages,  which  continued 
at  intervals  to  pass  down.  Around  the 
statue  of  King  William  the  mob  was  in  its 
greatest  force.  Not  merely  the  railings 
around  the  statue,  but  the  figure  itself  was 
surmounted  by  persons,   who,   taking  ad- 


vantage of  their  elevated  and  secure  posi* 
tion,  hurled  their  abuse  upon  the  police 
and  military  with  double  bitterness.  These 
sallies  of  invective  were  always  accom- 
panied by  some  humorous  allusion,  which 
created  a  laugh  among  the  crowd  beneath, 
to  which,  as  the  objects  of  the  ridicule 
were  by  no  means  insensible,  the  usual  reply 
was  by  charging  on  the  people,  and  a  com- 
mand to  keep  back — a  difficult  precept 
when  pressed  forward  by  som.e  hundreds 
behind  them.  As  I  made  my  way  slowly 
through  the  moving  mass,  I  could  see  that 
a  powerful  body  of  horse  patrolled  between 
the  mob  and  the  front  of  the  College,  the 
space  before  which  and  the  iron  railings 
being  crammed  with  students  of  the  Uni- 
versity, for  so  their  caps  and  gowns  bespoke 
them.  Between  this  party  and  the  others 
a  constant  exchange  of  abuse  and  insult 
was  maintained,  which  even  occasionally 
came  to  blows  whenever  any  chance  oppor- 
tunity of  coming  in  contact,  unobserved  by 
the  soldiery,  presented  itself. 

In  the  interval  between  these  rival  parties 
each  member's  carriage  was  obliged  to  pass, 
and  here  each  candidate  for  the  honors  of 
one  and  the  execrations  of  the  other,  met 
his  bane  and  antidote. 

"Ha!  broken  beak,  there  you  go  !  bad 
luck  to  you  !     Ha  !  old  vulture,  Flood." 

"  Three  cheers  for  Flood,  lads  ! "  shouted 
a  voice  from  the  College,  and  in  the  loud 
cry  the  yells  of  their  opponents  were 
silenced,  but  only  to  break  forth  the  next 
moment  into  further  license. 

"Here  he  comes,  here  he  comes,"  said 
the  mob  ;  "make  way  there,  or  he'll  take 
you  flying.  It's  himself  can  do  it.  God 
bless  your  honor,  and  may  you  never  want 
a  good  baste  under  ye  ! '"' 

This  civil  speech  was  directed  to  a  smart, 
handsome-looking  man  of  about  five-and- 
forty,  who  came  dashing  along  on  a  roan 
thoroughbred,  perfectly  careless  of  the 
crowd,  through  which  he  rode  with  a  smil- 
ing face  and  a  merry  look.  His  leathers 
and  tops  Avere  all  in  perfect  jockey  style, 
and  even  to  his  long-lashed  whip  he  was  in 
everything  a  sportsmanlike  figure. 

"That's  George  Ponsonby,"  said  a  man 
beside  me,  in  answer  to  my  question  ;  "  and 
I  suppose  you  know  who  that  is  ?" 

A  perfect  yell  from  the  crowd  drowned 
my  reply,  and  amid  the  mingled  curses  and 
execrations  of  the  mass,  a  dark-colored  car- 
riage moved  slowly  on  ;  the  coachman 
evidently  fearful  at  every  step  lest  his 
horses  should  strike  against  some  of  the 
crowd  and  thus  license  the  outbreak  that 
seemed  only  waiting  an  opportunity  to 
burst  forth. 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "Of RS. 


279 


"Ha!  Bladderchops,  Bloody  Jack,  arc 
you  there?''  shouted  the  savage  ringlead- 
ers, as  they  pressed  np  to  the   very  .via- 
of  the  carriage,  and  stared  al  the  occupant. 

"Who  is  it  ? "  said  I,  again. 

"John  Toler,  the  Attorney-General." 

Amid  deafening  cries  of  vengeance 
against  him  the  carriage 'moved  on,  and 
then  rose  the  wild  cheers  of  the  College 
men  to  welcome  their  partisan.  A  hurrah 
from  the  distant  end  of  Dame  street  now 
broke  on  the  ear,  which,  taken  up  by  those 
nearer,  swelled  into  regular  thunder,  and 
at  the  same  moment  the  dragoons  cried  out 
to  keep  back,  a  lane  was  formed  in  a 
second,  and  down  it  came  six  smoking 
thoroughbreds  ;  the  postilions  in  white  and 
silver,  cutting  and  spurring  with  all  their 
might.  Never  did  I  hear  such  a  cheer  as 
now  burst  forth ;  a  yellow  chariot,  its 
panels  covered  with  emblazonry,  came  fly- 
ing past ;  a  hand  waved  from  the  window 
in  return  to  the  salutation  of  the  crowd, 
and  the  name  of  Tom  Conolly  of  Castle- 
town rent  the  very  air  ;  two  outriders  in 
their  rich  liveries  followed,  unable  to  keep 
their  place  through  the  thick  mass  that 
wedged  in  after  the  retiring  equipage. 

Scarcely  had  the  last  echo  of  the  voices 
subsided  when  a  cheer  burst  from  the  op- 
posite* side,  and  a  waving  of  caps  and  hand- 
kerchiefs proclaimed  that  some  redoubted 
champion  of  Protestant  ascendancy  was  ap- 
proaching. The  crowd  rocked  to  and  fro 
as  question  after  question  poured  in. 

"  Who  is  it,  who  is  coming  ?  "  But  none 
could  tell,  for  as  yet  the  carriage,  whoso 
horses  were  heard  at  a  smart  trot,  had  not 
turned  the  corner  of  Grafton  street  ;  in  a 
few  moments  the  doubt  seemed  resolved, 
for  scarcely  did  the  horses  appear  in  sight 
when  a  perfect  yell  rose  from  the  crowd 
and  drowned  the  cheers  of  their  opponents. 
I  cannot  convey  anything  like  the  outbreak 
of  vindictive  passion  that  seemed  to  con- 
vulse the  mob,  as  a  splendidly-appointed 
carriage  drove  rapidly  past  and  made 
toward  the  colonnade  of  the  Parliament- 
house.  A  rush  of  the  people  was  made  at 
the  moment,  in  which,  as  in  a  wave,  I  was 
borne  along  in  spite  of  me.  The  dragoons, 
with  drawn  sabres,  pressed  down  upon  the 
crowd,  and  a  scene  of  frightful  confusion 
followed  ;  many  were  sorely  wounded  by 
the  soldiers,  some  were  trampled  under 
foot,  and  one  poor  wretch  in  an  effort  to 
recover  himself  from  stumbling,  was  sup- 
posed to  be  stooping  for  a  stone,  and  cut 
through  the  skull  without  mercy.  He  lay 
there  insensible  for  some  time,  but  at  last 
a  party  of  the  crowd  braving  everything, 
rushed  forward  and  carried  him  away  to  an 


hospital.  During  this,  I  had  established 
myself  on  the  top  of  a  lamp-post,  which 
gave  me  a  full  view,  not  only  of  all  the 
proceedings  of  the  mob,  bu1  of  the  difl 
cut  arrivals  as  they  drew  ap  at  t  he  door  of 
the  house.  The  carriage  whose  approach 
was  signalized  by  all  these  disasters,  had 
now  reached  the  colonnade.  Tin-  steps 
were  lowered,  and  a  young  man  of  the  very 
handsomesi   and   mosl  I    appean 

descended  slowly  from  the  chariol  ;  his 
dress  was  in  the  height  of  the  reigning 
fashion,  but  withal  had  a  certain  negli- 
gence that  bespoke  one  who  less  paid 
trillion  to  toilet,  than  tl 
was  a  thing  of  course,  which  could  nor  bul 
be,  like  all  about  him,  in  the  mosl  per 
taste.  In  his  hand  he  held  a  white  hand- 
kerchief, which,  as  he  carelessh  hook,  the 
perfume  floated  over  the  savage-looking, 
half-naked  crowd  around  ;  he  turned  to 
give  some  directions  to  his  coachman,  and 
at  the  same  moment  a  dead  (at  was  hurl*  d 
by  some  one  in  the  crovJd  and  -truck  him 
on  the  breast,  a  cry  of  exultation  rending 
the  very  uir  in  welcome  of  this  ruffian  act  : 
as  for  him,  he  slowly  moved,  his  face  round 
toward  the  mob,  and  as  he  brushed  the 
dirt  from  his  coat  with  his  kerchief  he  he- 
stowed  on  them  one  look,  so  full  of  im- 
measurable heartfelt  contempt,  that  they 
actually  quailed  beneath  it  ;  the  cry  grew 
fainter  and  fainter,  and  it  was  only  as  he 
turned  to  enter  the  House  that  they  re- 
covered self-possession  enough  to  renew 
their  insulting  shout.  I  did  not  need  to 
ask  the  name,  for  the  yell  of  bloody  Castle- 
reagh  shook  the  very  air. 

"Make  way  there — make  way,  hoys!*' 
shouted  a  rough  voice  from  the  crowd,  and 
a  roar  of  laughter,  that  seemed  to  hurst 
from  the  entire  street,  answered  the  com- 
mand, and  the  same  instant  a  large  burly 
figure  advanced  through  a  lane  made,  for 
him  in  the  crowd,  mopping  his  great 
bullet-head  with  a  bright  scarlet  handker- 
chief. 

"Long  life  to  you,  Mr.  Egan  !"  shout- 
ed one. 

"  Three  cheers  for  Bully  Egan,  boys  !  " 
cried  another,  and  the  appeal  was  respond- 
ed to  at  once, 

"Make  way,  you  blackguards,  make 
way,  I  say,"  said  Egan,  affecting  to  be  dis- 
pleased at  this  display  of  his  popularity, 
"don't  you  see  who's  coming?"  Every 
eye  was  turned  at  once  toward  Daly's  club- 
house, in  which  direction  he  pointed  ;  but 
it  was  some  minutes  before  the  dense  crowd 
would  permit  anything  to  be  seen.  Sud- 
denly, however,  a  cheer  arose  wilder  and 
louder  than  any  I  had  yet  heard  ;  from  the 


280 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


street  to  the  very  housetops  the  cry  was 
caught  up  and  repeated,  while  a  tumult- 
uous joy  seemed  to  rock  the  crowd  as  they 
moved  to  and  fro. 

At  this  moment  the  excitement  was  almost 
maddening  ;  every  neck  was  strained  in  one 
direction,  every  eye  pointed  thither,  while 
the  prolonged  cheering  was  sustained  with 
a  roar  as  deafening  as  the  sea  in  a  storm. 
At  last  the  crowd  were  forced  back,  and  I 
saw  three  gentlemen  advancing  abreast: 
the  two  outside  ones  were  holding  between 
them  the  weak  and  trembling  figure  of  an  old 
and  broken  man,  whose  emaciated  form  and 
withered  face  presented  the  very  extreme 
of  lassitude  and  weakness  ;  his  loose  coat 
hung  awkwardly  on'his  spare  and  shrunken 
form,  and  he  moved  along  in  a  shuffling, 
slip-shod  fashion.  As  they  mounted  the 
steps  of  the  Parliament-house,  the  cheer- 
ing grew  wilder  and  more  enthusiastic,  and 
I  wondered  how  he  who  was  evidently  the 
object,  could  seem  so  indifferent  to  the 
welcome  thus  giyen  him,  as  with  bent- 
down  head  he  pressed  on,  neither  turning 
right  nor  left.  With  seeming  difficulty 
he  was  assisted  up  the  steps,  when  he 
slowly  turned  round,  and,  removing  his 
hat,  saluted  the  crowd.  The  motion  was 
a  simple  one,  but  in  its  very  simplicity  wTas 
its  power.  The  broad  white  forehead, 
across  which  some  scanty  hair  floated  ;  the 
eye  that  now  beamed  proudly  forth,  was 
turned  upon  them,  and  never  was  the 
magic  of  a  look  more  striking  ;  for  a  sec- 
ond all  was  hushed,  and  then  a  very  thun- 
der of  applause  rolled  out,  and  the  name 
of  Henry  Grattan  burst  from  every  tongue. 
Just  then  one  of  the  mob,  exasperated  by 
a  stroke  from  the  flat  of  a  dragoon's  sabre, 
had  caught  the  soldier  by  the  foot  and 
flung  him  from  his  saddle  to  the  ground  ; 
his  comrades  flew  to  his  rescue  at  once,  and 
charged  the  crowd,  which  fell  back  be- 
fore' them.  The  College  men,  taking  ad- 
vantage of  this,  sprang  forward  on  the 
mob,  armed  with  their  favorite  weapons, 
their  hurdles  of  Strong  oak  ;  the  street  was 
immediately  torn  up  behind,  and  a  shower 
of  paving  stones  poured  in  upon  the  luck- 
less military,  now  completely  hemmed  in 
between  both  parties.  Yells  of  rage  and 
defiance  rose  on  either  side,  and  the  cheers 
of  the  victors  and  cries  of  the  wounded 
were  mixed  m  mad  confusion.  My  lamp- 
post was  no  longer  an  enviable  position, 
and  I  slipped  gently  down  toward  the 
the  ground  ;  in  doing  so,  however,  I  un- 
fortunately kicked  off  a  soldier's  cap.  The 
man  turned  on  me  at  once  and  collared  me, 
and  notwithstanding  all  my  excuses  insist- 
ed on  carrying  me  off  to  the  guard-house. 


The  danger  of  such  a  thing  at  once  struck 
i iic,  and  I  resisted  manfully.  The  mob 
cheered  me,  at  which  the  soldier  only  be- 
came more  angry  ;  and  ashamed,  too,  at 
being  opposed  by  a  mere  boy,  he  seized  me 
rudely  by  the  throat.  My  blood  rose  at 
this,  and  I  struck  boldly  at  him,  my  fist 
met  him  in  the  face,  and  before  he  could 
recover  himself  the  crowd  were  upon  him. 
Down  he  went,  while  a  rush  of  the  mob, 
escaping  from  the  dragoons,  flowed  over 
his  body  ;  at  the  same  moment  the  shout, 
"Guard,  turn  out  !  "  was  heard  from  the 
angle  of  the  Bank,  and  the  clattering  of 
arms  and  the  roll  of  a  drum  followed.  A 
cheer  from  the  mob  seemed  to  accept  the 
challenge,  and  every  hand  was  employed 
tearing  up  the  pavement  and  preparing  for 
the  fray.  Whether  by  my  own  self-ap- 
pointment, or  by  common  consent,  I  cannot 
say,  but  I  at  once  took  the  leadership,  and 
having  formed  the  crowd  into  two  parties, 
directed  them,  if  hard  pressed,  to  retreat 
either  by  College  street  or  Westmoreland 
street.  Thus  one  party  could  assist  the 
other  by  enfilading  the  attacking  force, 
unless  they  were  in  sufficient  strength  to 
pursue  both  together.  We  had  not  long  to 
wait  the  order  of  battle.  The  soldiers  were 
formed  in  a  second,  and  the  word  was  giv- 
en to  advance  at  a  charge.  The  sam'e  in- 
stant I  stepped  forward  and  cried,  "  Fire  ! " 
Never  was  an  order  so  obeyed — a  hundred 
paving  stones  showered  down  on  .  the 
wretched  soldiers,  who  fell  here  and  there 
in  the  ranks.  "Again  !"  I  shouted  to  my 
second  battalion,  that  stood  waiting  for 
the  word,  and  down  came  another  hail- 
storm, that  rattled  upon  their  caps  and 
muskets,  and  sent  many  a  stout  fellow  to 
the  rear.  A  wild  cheer  from  the  mob  pro- 
claimed the  victory,  but  at  the  same  in- 
stant a  rattling  of  ramrods,  and  a  clank  of 
firelocks,  was  heard  in  front ;  and  from 
the  rear  of  the  soldiers  a  company  marched 
out  in  echelon,  and  drew  up  as  if  on  pa- 
rade. All  was  stilled,  not  a  man  moved  in 
the  crowd,  indeed  our  tactics  seemed 
now  at  an  end,  when  suddenly  the  word, 
"  Make  ready — present  !  "  was  called  out, 
and  the  same  instant  a  ringing  discharge 
of  musketry  tore  through  the  crowd.  Nev- 
er did  I  witness  such  a  scene  as  followed. 
All  attempts  to  retreat  were  blocked  up  by 
the  pressure  from  behind  ;  and  the  sight  of 
the  wounded,  who  fell  by  the  discharge  of 
the  soldiers,  seemed  to  paralyze  every  effort 
of  the  mob.  One  terrified  cry  rose  from 
the  mass,  as  they  shrank  from  the  muskets. 
Again  the  ramrods  were  heard  clinking  in 
the  barrels.  I  saw  there  was  but  one  mo- 
ment, and  cried  out,  "  Courage,  lads,  and 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OUBS." 


281 


down  upon  them  !"  ami  with  that  I  dashed 
madly  forward,  followed  by  the  mob  that, 
like  a  mighty  mass,  now  rolled  heavily  al- 
ter me.  The  soldiers  fell  hack  ;;-  we  came 
on;  their  bayonets  were  brought  to  the 
charge,  the  word  ''Fire  low  !"  was  passed 
along  the  line,  and  a  bright  sheet  of  flame 
flashed  forth,  and  was  answered  by  a 
scream  of  anguish  that  drowned  the  crash 
of  the  fire.  In  the  rush  backward  I  was 
thrown  on  the  ground,  and  at  first  believed 
1  had  heen  shot,  but  I  soon  perceived  I  was 
safe  and  sprang  to  my  legs  ;  but  the  same 
moment  a  blow  on  the  head  from  the  butt- 
end  of  a  musket  smote  mo  to  the  earth, 
and  I  neither  saw  nor  heard  of  anything 
very  clearly  afterward.  I  had,  indeed,  a 
faint,  dreamy  recollection  of  being  danced 
upon  and  trampled  by  some  hundred 
heavy  feet,  and  then  experiencing  a  kind 
of  swinging,  rocking  motion,  as  if  carried 
on  something  ;  but  these  sensations  are  far 
too  vague  to  reason  upon,  much  less  to 
chronicle. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


A  CHARACTER. 


There  must  have  been  a  very  consider- 
able interval  from  the  moment  I  have  last 
recorded  to  that  in  which  I  next  became  a  re- 
sponsible individual ;  but  in  what  manner, 
in  what  place,  or  in  what  company  it  was 
passed,  the  reader  must  excuse  my  divulg- 
ing for  many  important  reasons,  one  of 
which  is,  I  never  clearly  knew  anything  of 
the  matter. 

To  date  my  recollections  from  my  first 
consciousness,  I  may  state  that  I  found  my- 
self on  my  back  in  a  very  narrow  bed,  a  ta- 
ble beside  me  covered  with  phials  and  small 
flasks,  with  paper  cravats,  some  of  which 
hung  down,  queue  fashion,  to  an  absurd 
extent.  A  few  rush-backed  and  bottomed 
chairs  lay  along  the  walls,  which  were 
coarsely  whitewashed.  A  window,  of  very 
unclean  and  unprepossessing  aspect,  was 
partly  shaded  by  a  faded  scarlet  cur- 
tain, while  the  floor  was  equally  spar- 
ingly decked  with  a  small  and  ragged 
carpet.  Where  was  I  ?  was  the  "fre- 
quent but  unsatisfactory  query  I  ever 
put  to  myself.  Could  this  be  a  prison- 
had  I  been  captured  on  that  riotous  even- 
ing and  carried  off  to  a  jail — or  was  I  m 
Darby  M'Keown's  territory  ?  for,  somehow, 
a  very  general  impression  was  on  my  mind 
that  Darby's  gifts  of  ubiquity  Avere  some- 
what remarkable ;  or,  lastly  (and  the 
thought  was  not  a  pleasant  one),  was  this 


the  domicile  of  Anthony  Basset,  Esq.,  At- 
torney-at-Law  ?  To  have  resolved  any  or 
all  of  these  doubts,  by  rising  and  taking  a 
pei  nnal  survey  of  the  premises,  would  b 
been  my  first  thoughl  ;  but,  unluckily,  I 
found  one  of  my  arms  bandaged,  and  in- 
closed in  a  brace  of  wooden  splints ;  a  \ 
considerable  general  impression  p  .'.ailed 
me  of  bruises  and  injui  iea  all  o\  tr  my 
body  ;  and,  worse  still,  a  kind  of  megrim 
accompanied  every  attempl  to  lift  my  nead 
from  the  pillow,  that  made  me  heartily 
glad  to  he  down  again,  and   be  at 

That  I  had  not  fallen  into  tmfrieudly 
hands  was  about  the  extern  to  which  my 
deductions  led  me,  and  with  this  consola- 
tory fact,  and  a  steady  resolve  to  remain 
awake  three  days,  if  necessary,  so  as  to 
interrogate  the  first  visitor  who  Bhould 
approach  me,  I  mustered  all  my  | 
and  waited  quietly.  Whal  hour  of 
day  it  was  when  first  I  awoke  to  even  thus 
much  of  consciousness  I  cannol  Bay  ;  but 
I  well  remember  watching  what  appeared 
to  me  twelve  mortal  hours  in  my  anxious 
expectation  ;  at  last  a  key  turned  in  an 
outer  lock,  a  door  opened,  and  I  heard  a 
heavy  foot  enter.  This  was  shortly  fol-. 
lowed  by  another  step,  whose  less  imposing 
tread  was,  I  suspected,  a  woman's. 

'"Where,  in  the  devil's  name,  is  the  can- 
dle?" said  a  gruff  voice,  that  actually 
seemed  to  me  not  unknown.  "I  left  it 
on  the  table  when  I  went  out.  Oh  !  my 
shin's  broke — that  infernal  table!" 

"  Oh,  Lord  !  oh,  Lord  ! "  screamed  a 
female  voice. 

"Ah!  you've  caught  it  too,"  cried  the 
other  in  glee;  "did  you  think  you  saw  a 
little  blue  flame  before  you  when  your  shin 
was  harked  ?  " 

"You're  a  monster,"  said  the  lady,  in  a 
tone  of  passionate  indignation. 

"Here  it  is— I  have  it,"  replied  the 
other,  not  paying  the  slightest  att<  ntion  to 
the  endearing  epithet  last  bestowed  :  "and 
d — n  me,  if  it's  not  burned  down  to  the 
socket.  Holloa  there  !  Peter  Dodd— you 
scoundrel — where  are  you  ?  " 

"Call  him  Saladin,  said  the  lady,  with 
a  sneer,   "  and  perhaps  he'll  answer." 

"Imp  of  darkness,  where  are  you  gone 
to  ?  Peter— Dodd— Dodd— Peter  !  Ah  ! 
yon  young  blackguard,  where  were  you  all 
this  time  ?  " 

"  Asleep,  sir ;  sure  you  know  well,  sir,  it's 
little  rest  I  get,"  said  a  thin,  childish  voice, 
in  answer.  "Wasn't  it  live  o'clock  this 
morning  when  I  divded  the  two  kidneys  ye 
had  for  supper  for  the  four  officers  and  had 
to  borrey  the  Kian  pepper  over  the  way  ?  " 

"I'll  bore  a  gimlet-hole  through  your 


282 


CHARLES  LEVERS    WORKS. 


pineal  gland,  and  stuff  it  with  brass-headed 
nails,  if  you  reply  to  me.  Anna  Maria, 
that  was  a  fine  thought,  eh  ?  — glorious,  by 
Jove  !  There,  put  the  candle  there  ;  hand 
your  mistress  a  chair  ;  give  me  my  robe  de 
chambre.  Confound  me,  if  it's  not  getting 
like  the  kingdom  of  Prussia  on  the  map, 
full  of  very  straggling  dependencies.  Sup- 
per, Saladin." 

"  The  sorrow  taste — " 

"  What !  thou  piece  of  human  ebony, 
what  do  you  say  ?  " 

"Me  hab  no— a — ting  in  de  larder," 
cried  the  child,  in  a  broken  voice. 

"Isn't  there  a  back  of  a  duck  and  two 
slices  of  cold  bacon?"  asked  the  lady,  in 
the  tone  of  a  cross-examining  barrister. 

"  I  poisoned  the  bacon  fbr  the  rats, 
Miss  ;  and  for  the  duck—" 

"Let  me  strangle  him  with  my  own 
hands,"  shouted  the  man;  "let  me  tear 
him  up  into  merry- thoughts.  Look  here, 
sirrah,"  said  he,  in  a  voice  like  John  Kem- 
ble,  "there  may  be  nothing  which  man 
eats  within  these  walls,  there  may  not  be 
wherewithal  to  regale  a  sickly  fly — no,  not 
enough  for  one  poor  spider  to  lunch  upon  ; 
but  if  you  ever  dare  to  reply  to  me,  save 
in  Oriental  phrase,  I'll  throw  you  in  a  sack, 
call  my  mutes,  and  hurl  you  into  the  Bos- 
phorus. " 

"Where,  sir  ?" 

"  The  Dodder,  you  son  of  a  burnt  father. 
My  hookah." 

"  My  slippers,"  repeated  the  lady. 

"  My  lute,  and  the  sherbet,"  added  the 
gentleman. 

By  the  stir  in  the  chamber,  these  ar- 
rangements, or  something  equivalent  to 
them,  seemed  to  have  taken  place,  when 
again  I  heard, 

"  Dance  a  lively  measure,  Saladin ;  my 
soul  is  heavy." 

Here  a  most  vile  tinkling  of  a  guitar 
was  heard,  to  which,  by  the  sounds  of  the 
feet,  I  could  perceive  Saladin  was  moving 
in  a  species  of  dance. 

"  Let  the  child  go  to  bed,  and  don't  be 
making  a  fool  of  yourself,"  said  the  lady,  in 
a  voice  of  bursting  passion. 

"Thank  Heaven!"  said  I,  half  aloud, 
"she  isn't  mad." 

"  Tink,  tink,  a-tink-a-tink,  tink-a-tink- 
a-dido,"  thrummed  out  her  companion. 
"  I  say,  Saladin,  heat  me  a  little  porter, 
with  an  egg,  and  some  sugar." 

The  door  closed  as  the  imp  made  his 
exit,  and  there  was  silence  for  some  seconds, 
during  which  my  uppermost  thought  was, 
"  What  infernal  mischance  has  thrown  me 
into  a  lunatic  asylum  ?  "  At  length  the 
man  spoke  : 


"  I  say,  Anna  Maria,  Cradock  lias  this 
run  of  luck  a  long  time." 

"He  plays  better  than  you,"  responded 
the  lady,  sharply. 

"  I  deny  it,"  rejoined  he,  angrily.  "I 
play  whist  better  than  any  man  that  ever 
lived,  except  the  Begum  of  Soutaneantan- 
tarabad,  who  beat  my  father.  They  played 
for  lacs  of  rupees  on  the  points,  and  a  ter- 
ritory on  the  rub ;  five  to  two,  first  game 
against  the  loser,  in  white  elephants." 

"How  you  do  talk,"  said  Anna  Maria; 
"  do  you  forget  that  all  this  rubbish  doesn't 
go  down  Avith  me." 

"Well,  I  mean  old  Hickory,  that  had  the 
snuff-shop  in  Bath,  used  only  to  give  me 
one  point  in  the  rub,  and  we  played  for 
sixpence — damme,  I'll  not  forget  it — he 
cleaned  me  out  in  no  time.  Tink,  tink,  a- 
tink-a-tink,  tink-a-tink-a-dido.  Here,  Sala- 
din, bear  me  the  spicy  cup,  ambrosial  boy  ! " 

"Ahem  !"  said  the  lady,  in  a  tone  that 
didn't  sound  exactly  like  concurrence. 

"  Eat  a  few  dates,  and  then  repose,"  said 
the  deep  voice. 

"  I  wish  I  had  them,  av  they  were  eat- 
able," said  Saladin,  as  he  turned  away. 

"  Wretch  !  you  have  forgotten  to  salaam  ; 
exit  slowly.  Tink,  tink,  a-tink-a-tink. 
Anna  Maria,  he's  devilish  good,  now,  for 
black  parts.  I  think  I'll  make  Jones  bring 
him  out.  Wouldn't  it  be  original  to  make 
Othello  talk  broken  English  ?  '  Farewell  de 
camp  ! '  Eh  !  by  Jove,  that's  a  fine 
thought.  '  De  spirit-stir  a  drum,  de  piercy 
pipe  ' — by  Jove  !  I  like  that  notion." 

Here  the  gentleman  rose  in  a  glorious 
burst  of  enthusiasm,  and  began  repeating 
snatches  from  Shakespeare,  in  the  pleasant 
travesty  he  had  hit  upon. 

"  Cradock  revoked,  and  you  never  saw 
him,"  said  the  lady,  dryly,  interrupting  the 
monologue. 

"I  did  see  it  clearly  enough,  but  I  had 
done  so  twice  the  same  game,"  said  he, 
gayly  ;  "  and,  if  the  grave  were  to  give  up 
its  dead,  I,  too,  should  be  a  murderer. 
Fine  thought  that,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"He  won  seven teen-and-sixpence  from 
you,"  rejoined  she,  pettishly. 

"  Two  bad  half-crowns — dowlas,  filthy 
dowlas,"  was  the  answer. 

"And  the  hopeful  young  gentleman  in 
the  next  room,  what  profitable  intentions, 
may  I  ask  you,  have  you  with  respect  to 
him  ?  " 

"  Burke  !  Tom  Burke  !  Bless  your  heart, 
he's  only  son  and  heir  to  Burke  of  Mount 
Blazes,  in  the  county  Galway.  His  father 
keeps  three  packs  of  harriers,  one  of  fox, 
and  another  of  stag-hounds— a  kind  of 
brindled  devils,  three  feet  eight  in  height ; 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


283 


he  won't  take  them  under.  His  father  and 
mine  were  schoolfellows  at  Dundundera- 
mud,  in  the  Himalaya,  and  ho — that  is,  old 
Burls — saved  my  father's  life  in  a  ciger- 
liuni  ;  and  am  I  to  forget  the  heritage  of 
gratitude  my  father  left  me  ?  " 

"You  ought  not,  perhaps,  since  it  was 
the  only  one  he  bequeathed,"  quoth  the 
lady. 

"\\  hat  !  Is  the  territory  of  Shamdoonah 
and  Bunfunterabad  nothing?  Are  the 
great  suits  of  red  emeralds  and  blue  opal, 
that  were  once  the  crown-jewels  of  Saidh 
Sing  Doolah,  nothing ?  Is  the  scimitar  of 
Hafiz,  with  verses  of  the  Koran  in  letters 
of  pure  brilliants,  nothing  ?" 

"You'll  drive  me  distracted  with  your 
insane  folly,"  rejoined  the  lady,  rising  and 
pushing  back  her  chair  with  violence. 
"To  talk  this  way  when  you  know  you 
haven't  got  a  five-pound  note  in  the  world." 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  laughed  out  the  jolly 
voice  of  the  other;  "that's  good,  faith. 
If  I  only  consented  to  dip  my  Irish  pro- 
perty, I  could  rake  fourteen  hundred  and 
seventy  thousand  pounds,  so  Mahony  tells 
me.  But  I'll  never  give  up  the  royalties — 
never.  There,  you  have  my  last  word  on 
the  matter  ;  rather  than  surrender  my  tin- 
mine,  I'd  consent  to  starve  on  twelve  thou- 
sand a  year,  and  resign  my  claim  to  the 
title,  which,  I  believe,  the  next  session  will 
give  me  ;  and  when  you  are  Lady  Machinery 
— something  or  other — maybe  they  won't 
bite,  eh  ?     Ramskins  versus  wrinkles." 

A  violent  bang  of  the  door  announced  at 
this  moment  the  exit  of  the  lady  in  a  rage, 
to  which  her  companion  paid  no  atten- 
tion, as  he  continued  to  mumble  to  him- 
self. 

"Surrender  the  royalties— never.  Oh, 
she's  gone — well,  she's  not  far  wrong  after 
all.  I  dare  not  draw  a  check  on  my  own 
exchequer  at  this  moment  for  a  larger  sum 
than — let  me  see — twrenty-four,  twenty-five, 
twenty-eight  and  tenpence  ;  with  twenty- 
nine  shillings,  the  grand  firm  of  Bubbleton 
and  Co.  must  shut  up  and  suspend  their 
payments. "  So  saying,  he  walked  from  the 
room  in  stately  fashion,  and  closed  the  door 
after  him. 

My  first  thought,  as  I  listened  to  this 
speech,  was  one  of  gratefulness  that  I  had 
fallen  into  the  friendly  hands  of  my  old 
coach  companion,  whose  kindness  still 
lived  fresh  in  my  memory  ;  my  next  was, 
what  peculiar  form  of  madness  could  ac- 
count for  the  strange  outpouring  I  had  just 
overheard,  in  which  my  own  name  was  so 
absurdly  introduced,  coupled  with  family 
circumstances  I  knew  never  had  occurred. 
Sleep  was  now  out  of  the  question  with 


me  ;  for  whole  hours  long  T  could  do 
no!  ding  but  revolve  in  my  mind  all  the  ex- 
traordinary odds  and  ends  of  my  friend 
Bubbleton  a  conversation,  which  I  remem- 
bered to  have  been  so  struck  by  at  my  first 
meeting  with  him.  The  miraculous  ad- 
ventures of  his  career,  his  hair-breadth 
'scapes,  his  enormous  wealth,  the  voluptu- 
ous ease  of  his  daily  life,  and  his  habits  of 
luxury  and  expenditure  with  which  he  then 
astounded  me,  had  now  received  some  solu- 
tion— while,  at  the  same  time,  there  was 
something  in  Ins  own  common-sense  obser- 
vations to  himself  that  puzzled  me  much. 
and  gave  a  great  difficulty  to  all  my  calcula- 
tions concerning  him. 

To  all  these  conflicting  doubts  and  dif- 
ficulties sleep  at  last  succeeded  ;  but  betteT 
far  for  me  it  had  not  ;  for  with  it  came 
dreams  such  as  sick  men  only  experiei 
all  the  distorted  images  that  rose  b<  I 
my  wandering  faculties,  mingling  with  the 
strange  fragments  of  Bubbleton's  conversa- 
tion, made  a  phantasmagoria  the  most  per- 
plexing and  incomprehensible;  and  which, 
even  on  waking,  I  could  not  banish,  so 
completely  had  Saladin  and  his  pas  seul, 
the  guitar,  the  hookah,  and  the  suit  of  red 
emeralds  taken  hold  of  my  erring  intellect. 

Candid,  though  not  fair  reader,  have  you 
ever  been  tipsy  ?  Have  you  ever  goni 
far  over  the  boundary  line  that  separ 
the  land  of  mere  sobriety  from  its  neigh- 
boring territory,  the  country  of  irresponsi- 
ble impulses,  "that  you  actually  doubted 
which  was  the  way  back,  that  you  thought 
you  saw  as  much  good  sense  and  good  judg- 
ment on  the  one  side  of  the  frontier  as  the 
other,  with  only  a  strong  balance  of  good- 
fellowship  to  induce  a  preference  ?  If  you 
know  this  state,  if  you  have  taken  the  ] pre- 
cise quantum  of  champagne,  or  moselle 
mousseux,  that  induces  it,  and  yet  goes  no 
farther,  then  do  you  perfectly  understand 
all  the  trials  and  difficulties  of  my  waking 
moments,  and  you  can  appreciate  the  ar- 
duous task  I  undertook  in  my  effort  to 
separate  the  real  from  the  imaginary,  the 
true  types  from  their  counterfeits  ;  in  a 
word,  the  wanderings  of  my  own  brain 
from  those  of  Captain  Bubbleton's. 

In  this  agreeable  and  profitable  occupa- 
tion was  I  engaged,  when  the  same  im- 
posing tread  and  heavy  footstep  I  had 
heard  the  previous  evening  entered  the  ad- 
joining room  and  approached  my  door. 
The  lock  turned,  and  the  illustrious  cap- 
tain himself  appeared  :  and  here  let  me 
observe,  that  if  grave  censure  be  occasion- 
ally bestowed  on  persons  who  by  the  as- 
sumption of  voice,  look,  or  costume,  seek 
to  terrorize  over  infant  minds,   a  no  less 


284 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


heavy  sentence  should  be  bestowed  on  all 
who  lord  it  over  the  frail  faculties  of  sick- 
ness by  any  absurdity  in  their  personal 
appearance  ;  and  that  I  may  not  seem  cap- 
tious, let  me  describe  my  friend.  The 
captain,  who  was  somewhere  about  the  for- 
ties, was  a  full-faced,  chubb}r,  good-looking 
fellow,  of  some  five  feet  ten  or  eleven 
inches  in  height  ;  his  countenance  had 
been  intended  by  nature  for  the  expression 
of  such  emotions  as  arise  from  the  enjoy- 
ment of  turtle,  milk-punch,  truffled  tur- 
keys, mulled  port,  mulligatawney,  stilton, 
stout,  and  pickled  oysters  ;  a  rich,  mellow- 
looking  pair  of  dark-brown  eyes,  with  large 
bushy  eyebrows,  meeting  above  the  nose, 
which  latter  feature  was  a  little  "  on  the 
snub,  and  off  the  Roman  ;"  his  mouth  was 
thick-lipped,  and  had  that  peculiar  mo- 
bility which  seems  inseparable,  wherever 
eloquence  or  imagination  predominate  ;  in 
color,  his  face  was  of  that  uniform  hue 
painters  denominate  as  "warm,"  in  fact, 
a  rich  sunset  Claude-Lorrainish  tint,  that 
seemed  a  compound,  the  result  of  high -sea- 
soned meats,  j)lethora,  punch,  and  the  trop- 
ics ;  in  figure,  he  was  like  a  huge  pudding- 
bag,  supported  on  two  short  little  dumpy 
pillars  that,  from  a  sense  of  the  super- 
incumbent weight,  had  wisely  spread  them- 
selves out  below,  giving  to  his  lower  man 
the  appearance  of  a  stunted  letter  A ;  his 
arms  were  most  preposterously  short,  and 
for  the  convenience  of  locomotion,  he  used 
them  somewhat  after  the  fashion  of  fins  ; 
as  to  his  costume  on  the  morning  in  ques- 
tion, it  was  a  singularly  dirty  and  patched 
dressing-gown  of  antique  silk,  fastened 
about  the  waist  by  a  girdle,  from  which 
depended  a  scimitar  on  one  side,  and  a 
meerschaum  on  the  other  ;  a  well-worn  and 
not  over  clean-looking  shawl  was  fastened 
in  fashion  of  a  turban  round  his  head  ;  a 
pair  of  yellow  buskins  with  faded  gold 
tassels  decorated  legs  which  occasionally 
peeped  from  the  folds  of  the  robe  de  cliaia- 
bre,  without  any  other  covering. 

Such  was  the  outward  man  of  him  who 
suddenly  stopped  short  at  the  doorway, 
while  he  held  the  latch  in  his  hand,  and 
called  out, 

"  Burke  !  Tom  Burke,  don't  be  violent, 
don't  be  outrageous,  you  see  I'm  armed  ! 
I'd  cut  you  down  without  merc}r  if  you 
attempt  to  lift  a  finger  !  Promise  me  this 
— do  you  hear  me  ?  " 

That  any  one  even  unarmed  could  have 
conceived  fear  from  such  a  poor,  weak  ob- 
ject as  I  was,  seemed  so  utterly  absurd, 
that  I  laughed  outright  ;  an  emotion  on 
my  pari  that  seemingly  imparted  but  little 
confidence  to  my  friend  the  Captain,  who 


retreated  still  closer  to  the  door,  and 
seemed  ready  for  flight.  The  first  use  I 
could  make  of  speech,  however,  was,  to 
assure  him  that  I  was  not  only  perfectly 
calm  and  sensible,  but  deeply  grateful  for 
kindness  which  I  knew  not  how,  nor  to 
whom  I  became  indebted. 

"Don't  roll  your  eyes  there  ;  don't  look 
so  d — d  treacherous  !  "  said  he  ;  "  keep 
down  your  hands  ;  keep  them  under  the 
bed-clothes.  I'd  put  a  bullet  through  your 
skull  if  you  stired  ! " 

I  again  protested  that  any  manifestation 
of  quietness  he  asked  for  I  would  imme- 
diately comply  with,  and  begged  him  to  sit 
down  beside  me  and  tell  me  where  I  was  and 
how  I  had  come  hither.  Having  established 
an  outwork  of  a  table  and  two  chairs  between 
us,  and  cautiously  having  left  the  door  ajar, 
to  secure  his  retreat,  he  drew  the  scimitar 
and  placed  it  before  him,  his  eyes  being 
fixed  on  me  the  entire  time. 

"Well,"  said  he,  as  he  assumed  a  seat, 
and  leaned  his  arm  on  the  table,  "  so  you 
are  quiet  at  last.  Lord  !  what  a  frightful 
lunatic  you  were.  Nobody  would  approach 
your  bed  but  me.  The  stoutest  keeper  of 
Swift's  hospital  fled  from  the  spot,  while  I 
said,  '  Leave  him  to  me.  The  human  eye 
is  your  true  agent  to  humble  the  pride  of 
maniacal  frenzy.'  " 

With  these  words  he  fixed  on  me  a  look 
such  as  the  chief  murderer  in  a  melodrama 
assumes  at  the  moment  he  proceeds  to  im- 
molate a  whole  family. 

"  You  infernal  young  villain,  how  I  sub- 
dued you — how  you  quailed  before  me  ! " 

There  was  something  so  ludicrous  in  the 
contrast  of  this  bravery  with  his  actual 
terror,  that  again  I  burst  out  a-laughing, 
upon  which  he  sprang  up,  and  brandishing 
his  sabre,  vowed  vengeance  on  me  if  I 
stirred.  After  a  considerable  time  spent 
thus,  I  at  last  succeeded  in  impressing  him 
with  the  fact,  that  if  I  had  all  the  will  m 
the  world  to  tear  him  to  pieces,  my  strength 
would  not  suffice  to  carry  me  to  the  door. 
An  assurance  which,  however  sorrowfully 
made  by  me,  I  perceived  to  afford  him  the 
most  unmixed  satisfaction. 

"That's  right,  quite  right,"  said  he, 
"and  mad  should  he  be  indeed  who  would 
measure  strength  with  me.  The  red  men 
of  Tuscarora  always  called  me  the  great 
buffalo.  I  used  to  carry  a  bark  canoe  with 
my  squaw  and  nine  little  black  devils  under 
one  arm,  so  as  to  leave  the  other  free  for 
my  tomahawk.  '  He,  how,  he  ! '  that's  the 
war  step." 

Here  he  stooped  down  to  his  knees,  and 
then  sprang  up  again,  with  a  yell  that  ac- 
tually made  me  start,  and  brought  a  new 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


285 


actor  on  the  scene  in  the  person  of  Anna 
Maria,  whose  name  I  had  so  frequently 
heard  the  night  before. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  said  the  lady,  a 
short,  squab-like  woman,  of  nearly  the  cap- 
tain's age,  but  none  of  his  personal  all. ac- 
tions. "  We  can't  have  him  screaming  all 
day  in  thai;  fashion." 

"It  isn't  he,  it  was  I  who  was  perform- 
ing the  war  dance.  Come,  now,  let  down 
your  hair,  and  be  a  squaw — do.  What 
trouble  is  it  ?  and  bring  in  Saladin  ;  we'll 
get  up  a  combat  scene  ;  devilish  fine  thought 
that  !" 

The  indignant  look  of  the  lady  in  reply 
to  this  modest  proposal  again  overpowered 
me,  and  I  sank  back  in  my  bed  exhausted 
with  laughter,  an  emotion  which  1  was 
forced  to  subdue  as  well  as  I  might  on  be- 
holding the  angry  countenance  with  which 
the  lady  regarded  me. 

"I  say,  Burke,"  cried  the  captain,  "let 
me  present  you  to  my  sister,  Miss  Anna 
Maria  Bubbleton." 

A  very  dry  recognition  on  Miss  Anna 
Maria's  part  replied  to  the  effort  I  made  to 
salute  her,  and  as  she  turned  on  her  heel 
she  said  to  her  brother, "  Breakfast's  ready," 
and  left  the  room. 

Bubbleton  jumped  up  at  this,  rubbed  his 
mouth  pleasantly  with  his  hand,  smacked 
his  lips,  and  then  dropping  his  voice  to  a 
whisper,  muttered  : 

"  Excuse  me,  Tom,  but  if  I  have  a  weak- 
ness it  is  for  Yarmouth  bloaters,  and  an- 
chovy toast,  milk  chocolate,  marmalade, 
hot  rolls,  and  reindeer  tongue,  witli  a  very 
small  glass  of  pure  white  brandy,  as  a  qua- 
lifier." So  saying,  he  whisked  about  and 
made  his  exit. 

While  my  host  was  thus  occupied  I  was 
visited  by  the  regimental  surgeon,  who  in- 
formed me  that  my  illness  had  now  been  of 
some  weeks'  duration  ;  severe  brain  fever, 
with  various  attending  evils,  and  a  broken 
arm,  being  the  happy  results  of  my  even- 
ing's adventure  at  the  Parliament-house. 

"  Bubbleton  is  an  old  friend  of  yours," 
continued  the  doctor  ;  and  then,  without 
giving  me  time  to  reply,  added,  "capital 
fellow,  no  better  ;  a  little  given  to  the  mi- 
raculous— eh  !  but  nothing  worse.'' 

"Why  he  does  indeed  seem  to  have  a 
strong  vein  for  fiction,"  said  I,  half  timidly. 

"  Bless  your  heart,  he  never  ceases  ;  his 
world  is  an  ideal  thing,  full  of  impossible 
people  and  events,  where  he  has  lived  at 
least  some  centuries,  enjoying  the  intima- 
cies of  princes,  statesmen,  poets,  and  war- 
riors ;  he  has,  in  his  own  estimation,  un- 
limited wealth  and  unbounded  resources, 
the  want  of  which  he  is  never  convinced  of 


till  pressed  for  five  shillings  to  buy  his 
dinner." 

"  And  his  sister,"  said  I,"  what  of  her  ?  " 

"Just  as  strange  a  character  in  tl 
posite  direction.     She  is  as   matter-of-f 

as  he  is  imaginative.       To  all  his  flights  die 

as  resolutely  enters  a  dissentienl  ;  and  be 
never  inflates  bis  balloon  of  miracles  with- 
out her  stepping  forward  to  punch  a  hole 
in  it.     Bui  here  they  come." 

"Isay,  Pepper,  how  goes  your  patieni  ? 
Spare    no  pains,  old  feflo  p<  ase  ; 

only  get  him  round.     I've  let;   a  check  for 
for  five  hundred   in   the  next    room. 
This  is  no   regimental  ease—-  me, 

it's  my  way.  and  1  insisl  upon  it." 

Pepper  bowed  with  an  air  of  the  d 
gratitude,  and  actually  loo  overpow- 

ered by  the  liberality,  that  1  began  to 
pect  there  might  be  less  truth   in   his  ac- 
count of  Bubbleton  than  I  thought  a  few 
minutes  before. 

"All  insanity  has  left  him  —  that's 
pleasant.  I  say,  Tom,  you  must  have  had 
glorious  thoughts,  eh  ?  When  you  \ 
mad,  did  you  ever  think  you  were  an  ana- 
conda bolting  a  goat,  or  tire  Eddystone 
lighthouse  when  the  foundation  began  to 
shift  ?  " 

"  No,  never." 

"  How  odd  !  I  remember  being  once 
thrown  on  my  head  off  a  drag.  1  was 
breaking  in  a  pair  of  young  unicorns  for 
the  Queen  of — " 

"No  !  "  said  Anna  Maria,  in  a  voice  of 
thunder,  holding  up  her  linger,  at  the  same 
moment,  in  token  of  reproof. 

The  captain  became  mute  on  the  instant, 
and  the  very  word  he  was  about  to  utter 
stuck  in  his  throat,  and  he  stood  with  his 
mouth  open,  like  one  in  enchantment. 

"You  said  a  little  weak  tea,  1  think," 
said  Miss  Bubbleton,  turning  toward  the 
doctor. 

"  Yes,  and  some  dry  toast,  if  he  liked  it: 
and,  in  a  day  or  two,  a  half  glass  of  wine- 
and- water."    . 

"  Some  of  that  tokay  old  Pippo  Ester- 
hazy  sent  us." 

"  No,"  said  the  lady  again,  in  the  same 
tone  of  menace. 

"And,  perhaps,  after  a  week,  the  open 
air  and  a  little  exercise  in  a  carriage." 

"The  barouche  and  the  four  ponies,"  in- 
terrupted Bubbleton. 

"No,"  repeated  Miss  Anna  Maria,  but 
in  such  a  voice  of  imperious  meaning,  that 
the  poor  captain  actually  fell  hack,  and 
only  muttered  to  himself, 

•'••What  would  be  the  use  of  wealth,  if 
one  couldn't  contribute  to  the  enjoyment  of 
one's  friends  ?  " 


28G 


CHARLES  LEVER 8  WORKS. 


"  There's  the  drum  for  parade,"  cried  the 
doctor  ;  "you'll  be  late,  and  so  shall  I." 

They  both  bustled  out  of  the  room  to- 
gether, while  Miss  Anna  Maria,  taking  her 
work  out  of  a  small  bag  she  carried  on  her 
arm,  drew  a  chair  to  the  window  and  sat 
down,  having  quietly  intimated  to  me  that, 
as  conversation  was  deemed  injurious  to 
me,  I  must  not  speak  one  syllable. 


CHAPTEK  XIII. 

AN   UNLOOKED-FOR   VISITOR. 

All  my  endeavors  to  ascertain  the  steps 
by  which  I  came  to  occupy  my  present 
abode  were  fruitless,  inasmuch  as  Captain 
Bubbleton  contrived  to  surround  his  expla- 
nation with  such  a  mist  of  doubtful,  if  not 
impossible,  circumstances,  that  I  gave  up 
the  effort  in  despair,  and  was  obliged  to  sit 
down  satisfied  with  the  naked  fact,  that  it 
was  by  some  soldiers  of  his  company  I  was 
captured,  and  by  them  brought  to  the 
guard-house.  "Strangely  enough,  too,  I 
found  that,  in  his  self-mystification,  the 
worthy  captain  had  invested  me  with  all  the 
honors  of  a  staunch  loyalist  who  had  earned 
his  cracked  skull  in  defense  of  the  soldiery 
against  the  mob  ;  and  this  prevailing  im- 
pression gave  such  a  tone  to  his  narrative, 
that  he  not  only  set  to  work  to  trace  back  a 
whole  generation  of  Burkes  famed  for  their 
attachment  to  the  House  of  Hanover,  but 
also  took  a  peep  into  the  probable  future, 
where  he  saw  me  covered  with  rewards  for 
my  heroism  and  gallantry. 

Young  as  I  was,  I  hesitated  long  how  far 
I  dare  trust  him  with  the  real  state  of  the 
case.  I  felt  that  in  so  doing  I  should 
either  expose  him  to  the  self-reproach  of  hav- 
ing harbored  one  he  would  deem  a  rebel — 
or,  by  withdrawing  from  me  his  protection, 
give  him,  perhaps,  greater  pain  by  com- 
pelling him  to  such  an  ungracious  act. 
Yet  how  could  I  receive  attention  and  kind- 
ness under  these  false  colors  ?  This  wras  a 
puzzling  and  difficult  thing  to  resolve  ;  and 
a  hundred  times  a  day  I  wished  I  had  never 
been  rescued  by  him,  but  taken  my  chance 
of  the  worst  fortune  had  in  store  for  me. 

While,  therefore,  my  strength  grew  with 
every  day,  these  thoughts  harassed  and  de- 
pressed me.  The  continual  conflict  in  my 
mind  deprived  me  of  all  ease  ;  and  scarcely 
a  morning  broke  in  which  I  had  not  decided 
on  avowing  my  real  position  and  my  true 
sentiments ;  and  still,  when  the  moment 
came,  the  flighty  uncertainty  of  Bubble- 
ton's  manner — his  caprice  and  indiscretion — 


all  frightened  me,  and  I  was  silent.  I 
I  hoped,  too,  that  some  questioning  on  his 
part  might  give  me  a  fitting  opportunity 
for  such  a  disclosure  ;  but  here  again  I  was 
deceived.  The  jolly  captain  was  far  too 
busy  inven  1  i  ng  his  own  history  of  me, to  think 
of  asking  for  mine  ;  and  I  found  out  from 
the  surgeon  of  the  regiment,  that  accord- 
ing to  the  statement  made  at  the  mess- 
table,  I  was  an  only  son,  possessed  of  im- 
mense estates — somewhat  incumbered,  to 
be  sure  (among  other  debts,  a  large  jointure 
to  my  mother) — that  I  had  come  up  to 
town  to  consult  the  Attorney-General  about 
the  succession  to  a  title  long  in  abeyance 
in  my  family,  and  was  going  down  to  the 
House  in  Lord  Castlereagh's  carriage,  when, 
fired  by  the  ruffianism  of  the  mob,  I  sprang 
out,  and  struck  one  of  the  ringleaders,  etc., 
etc. 

How  this  visionary  history  had  its  origin, 
or  whether  it  had  any,  save  in  the  wander- 
ing fancies  of  his  brain,  I  knew  not ;  but 
either  by  frequent  repetition  of  it,  or  by 
the  strong  hold  a  favorite  notion  sometimes 
wTill  take  of  a  weak  intellect,  he  so  far 
believed  it  true,  that  he  wrote  more  than 
one  letter  to  Lord  Castlereagh,  to  assure 
him  that  I  was  rapidly  recovering,  and 
would  be  delighted  to  receive  him — which, 
whether  from  a  knowledge  of  the  captain's 
character,  or  his  indifference  as  to  my  fate, the 
secretary  certainly  never  took  any  notice  of 
whatever. 

Bubbleton  had  too  much  experience  of 
similar  instances  of  neglect  to  be  either 
afflicted  or  offended  at  this  silence  ;  on  the 
contrary,  he  satisfied  his  mind  by  an  excuse 
of  his  own  inventing,  and  went  about  say- 
ing, "  I  think  we'll  have  Castlereagh  down 
to-day  to  see  Burke,"  until  it  became  a  cant 
on  parade,  and  a  jest  at  mess. 

Meanwhile,  his  active  mind  was  not  lying 
dormant.  Indignant  that  no  inquiries  had 
been  made  after  me,  and  astonished  that  no 
aide-de-camp — not  even  a  liveried  menial  of 
the  Viceroy's  household — had  come  down 
to  receive  the  daily  bulletin  of  my  health, 
and  somewhat  piqued,  perhaps,  that  his 
own  important  services  regarding  me  re- 
mained unacknowledged,  he  set  about 
springing  a  mine  for  himself  which  very 
nearly  became  my  ruin. 

After  about  ten  days  spent  by  me  in  this 
state  of  painful  vacillation,  my  mind 
vibrating  between  two  opposite  courses, 
and  seeing  arguments  for  cither,  both  in  the 
matter-of-fact  shortness  of  Miss  Bubbleton's 
not  over-courteous  manner,  and  !  he  splen- 
didly liberal  and  vast  conceptions  of  her 
brother,  I  went  to  my  bed  one  night, 
resolved  that  on  the  very  next  morning  I 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


287 


would  hesitate  no  longer ;  and  as  my 
strength  would  now  permit  of  my  being 
able  to  walk  unassisted,  I  would  explain 
freely  to  Bubbleton  every  circumstance  of 
my  life,  and  take  my  leave  of  him,  to  wan- 
der, I  knew  not  where.  This  decision  at 
length  being  come  to,  I  slept  more  soundly 
than  I  had  slept  for  many  nights,  nor 
awoke  until  the  loud  step  and  the  louder 
voice  of  the  captain  had  aroused  me  from 
my  slumbers. 

••  Ml i,  Tom— a  good  night,  my  lad  ? 
How  soundly  you  sleep  !  Just  like  the 
Lachigong  Indians  :  they  go  to  bed  after 
the  hunting  season,  and  never  wake  till  the 
bears  come  in  next  fall.  I  had  the  knack 
myself  once,  but  then  I  always  took  six  or 
seven  dozen  of  strong  Burton  ale  first  —and 
that,  they  said,  wasn't  quite  fair  ;  but  for 
a  white  man,  I'd  back  myself  for  a  thou- 
sand to-morrow.  But  what's  this  I  have  to 
tell  you  ?  Something  or  other  was  in  my 
head  for  you.  Oh,  I  have  it  !  I  say,  Tom, 
old  fellow,  I  think  I  have  touched  them  up 
to  some  purpose.  They  didn't  expect  it — 
no,  hang  it !  they  little  knew  what  was  in 
store  for  them.  They  weren't  quite  pre- 
pared for  it.    By  Jove,  that  they  weren't  ! " 

"  Who  are  they  ?  "  said  I  sitting  up  in 
my  bed,  and  somewhat  curious  to  hear 
something  of  these  astonished  individuals. 

"  The  Government,  my  lad  ! — the  Castle 
— the  Private  Sec. — the  Major— the  Trea- 
sury— the  Board  of  Green  Cloth — the — 
what  d'ye  call  them? — the  Privy  Council." 

"  Why,  what  has  happened  them  ?" 

"  I'll  show  you  what's  happened.  Lie 
down  again,  and  compose  yourself.  He 
won't  be  here  before  twelve  o'clock ;  though, 
by-the-by,  I  promised  on  my  honor  not  to 
say  a  word  about  his  coming.  But  it's  over 
now." 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  said  I  eagerly. 

"  Oh,  I  can't  tell  now.  You'll  see  him 
very  soon,  and  right  glad  he'll  be  to  see 
you,  so  he  says.  But  here  they  are — here's 
the  whole  affair."  So  saying,  he  covered 
the  bed  with  a  mass  of  newspapers,  and 
blotted,  ill-written  manuscripts,  among 
which  he  commenced  a  vigorous  search  at 
once. 

"  Here  it  is.  I've  found  it  out.  Listen 
to  this  :  '  The  Press,  Friday,  August  10. — 
The  magnificent  ourang-outang  that  Cap- 
tain Bubbleton  is  about  to  present  to  the 
Lady-Lieutenant — '  No  ;  that  isn't  it. 
■It  must  be  in  Faulkner.  Ay,  here  we  have 
it  :  '  In  Captain  Bubbleton's  forthcoming 
volume,  which  we  have  been  favored  with  a 
private  perusal  of,  a  very  singular  account  is 
given  of  the  gigantic  mouse  found  in  Can- 
dia,  which  grows  to  the  size  of  a  common , 


masi iff    '     No  :    that's    not    it.      You've 
heard  of  that,  Tom,  though,  haven'l  you  ?" 
"  Never,"    said    I,    trying   to   rep] 

smile. 

"I'm  amazed  at  that.  Never  beard  of 
my  curious  speculations  aboul  the  Candian 

mouse?      The  fellow    ha-:  a   voiee  like  a  hu- 
man being     you'd    hear  him  crying  in  the 

wood-,  and  youM  swear  it  wasa  child.  I've 
a  notion  that  the  Greeks  took  their  word 
'mousikos'  from  this  fellow;  hut  ti 
not  what  I'm  looking  for.  No  :  but  here 
it  is.  This  is  squib  No.  1  :  'Tuesday 
morning. — We  are  at  length  enabled  to 
state  that  the  young  gentleman  who  took 
such  a  prominent  pari  in  defending  the 
military  againsi  the  savage  and  murderous 
attack  of  the  mob  in  the  late  riot  in  Col- 
lege green  is  now  out  of  danger  ;  being  re- 
moved to  Captain  Bubbleton'-  quarters  in 
George's  street  Barracks,  he  was  immediate- 
ly trepanned — " 

"Eh  ?  trepanned  !" 

"No,  you  weren't  trepanned  :  but  Pep- 
per said  you  might  have  been  though,  and 
he'd  just  as  soon  do  it  as  not  ;  so  1  put  in 
trepanned.  'The  pia-materwas  fortunate- 
ly not  cut  through.'  That  you  don't  un- 
derstand ;  but  no  matter — hem.  hem! 
'Congestion  of — '  hem,  hem!  'In  our 
next,  we  hope  to  give  a  still  more  favorable 
report.'  Then  here's  the  next  :  '  To  the 
aide-de-camp  sent  to  inquire  after  the  "he- 
ro of  College  green,"  the  answer  this  morn- 
ing was — "  Better — able  to  sit  up. "  '  Well, 
here  we  go.  No.  3:  'His  Excellency 
mentioned  this  morning  at  the  Privy  Coun- 
cil the  satisfaction  he  felt  at  being  able  to 

announce    that   Mr.  (from    motives  of 

delicacy  we  omit  the  name)  is  now  permit- 
ted to  take  some  barley-gruel,  with  a  spoon- 
ful of  old  Madeira.  The  Bishop  of  Ferns 
and  Sir  Boyle  Roach  both  left  their  cards 
yesterday  at  the  barracks.'  I  waited  a  day 
or  two  after  this  ;  but — would  you  believe 
it  ? — no  notice  was  taken  ;  not  even  the 
opposition  papers  said  a  word,  except  some 
insolent  rascal  in  The  Press  asks — •  Can 
you  tell  your  readers  are  we  to  have  any- 
thing more  from  Captain  Bubbleton  ?'  So 
then  I  resolved  to  come  out  in  force,  and 
here  you  see  the  result  :  •  Friday,  20th. — 
It  is  now  our  gratifying  task  to  announce 
the  complete  restoration  of  the  young  gen- 
tleman whose  case  has,  for  some  weeks  past, 
been  the  engrossing  topic  of  conversation 
of  all  ranks  and  classes,  from  the  table  of 
the  Viceroy  to  the  humble  denizen  of  Mud 
Island.  Mr.  Burke  is  the  only  son  and 
heir  to  the  late  Matthew  Burke,  of  Cre- 
more,  county  of  Galway.  His  family  have 
been  long  distinguished  for  their  steady, 


288 


CHARLES  LEVERS    WORKS 


uncompromising  loyalty  :  nor  is  the  he- 
reditary glory  of  their  house  likely  to  suffer 
iu  the  person  of  the  illustrious  youth,  who, 
we  learn,  is  now  to  be  raised  to  the  baro- 
netcy, under  the  title  of  Sir  Thomas  Bub- 
bleton  Burke,  the  second  name  assumed  to 
commemorate  the  services  of  Captain  Bub- 
bleton,  whose — '  Of  course  I  dilated  a 
little  here  to  round  the  paragraph.  Well, 
this  did  it.  Here  was  the  shell  that  ex- 
ploded the  magazine  ;  for  early  this  morn- 
ing I  received  a  polite  note  from  the  Castle  ; 
I  won't  tell  you  the  writer  though.  I  like 
a  good  bit  of  surprise  ;  and,  egad,  now  I 
think  on't,  I  won't  say  anything  more  about 
the  letter  either,  only  that  Ave're  in  luck, 
my  lad,  as  you'll  soon  acknowledge. 
What's  the  hour  now  ?  Ah  !  a  quarter  to 
twelve.  But  wait,  I  think  I  hear  him  m 
the  next  room  ;  jump  up,  and  dress  as  fast 
as  you  can,  while  I  do  the  honors." 

With  this  the  captain  bustled  out  of  the 
room  ;  and,  although  ho  banged  the  door 
after  him,  I  could  hear  his  voice  in  the  act 
of  welcoming  some  new  arrival. 

In  spite  of  the  sea  of  nonsense  and  ab- 
surdity through  which  I  had  waded  in  the 
last  half-hour,  the  communication  he  had 
made  me  excited  my  curiosity  to  the  ut- 
most, and  in  some  respect  rendered  me  un- 
easy. It  was  no  part  whatever  of  my  object 
to  afford  any  clue  to  Basset  by  which  he 
might  trace  me,  and,  although  much  of  the 
fear  I  had  formerly  entertained  of  that 
dreaded  personage  had  evaporated  with  in- 
creased knowledge  of  the  world,  yet  old  in- 
stincts preserved  their  influence  over  me, 
and  I  felt  as  though  Tony  Basset  would  be 
a  name  of  terror  to  me  for  my  life  long. 
It  was  quite  clear,  however,  that  the  ap- 
plication from  the  Castle  to  which  he  al- 
luded could  have  no  reference  to  the  honest 
attorney  ;  and  with  this  comforting  reflec- 
tion, which  I  confess  came  somewhat  late, 
I  finished  my  dressing,  and  prepared  to 
leave  my  room. 

"  Oh  !  here  he  comes,"  cried  Bubbleton, 
as  he  flung  open  my  door,  and  announced 
my  approach.  "Come  along,  Tom,  and 
let  us  see  if  your  face  will  let  you  be  recog- 
nized. " 

I  scarcely  had  crossed  the  threshold 
when  I  started  back  with  affright,  and,  had 
it  not  been  for  the  wall  against  which  I 
leaned,  must  have  fallen.  The  stranger, 
whose  visit  Avas  to  afford  me  so  much  of 
pleasure,  was  no  other  than  Major  Barton  ; 
there  he  stood,  his  arm  leaning  on  the 
chimney-piece,  the  same  cool  malicious 
smile  playing  about  the  angles  of  his  mouth, 
which  I  noticed  the  first  day  I  saw  him  in 
the  glen.     His  sharp  eyes  shot  on  me  one 


quick,  searching  glance,  and  then  turned 
to  the  door,  from  which  again  they  were 
directed  to  me,  as  if  some  passing  thought 
had  moved  them. 

Bubbleton  was  the  first  to  speak,  for,  not 
noticing  either  the  agitation  I  was  under 
or  the  stern  expression  of  Barton's  features, 
he  ran  on  : 

"  Eh,  Major  !  that's  your  friend — isn't 
it  ?  Changed  a  bit,  I  suppose — a  little 
blanched  ;  but  in  a  good  cause,  you  know, 
— that's  the  thing.     Come,  Tom,  you  don't 

forget  your  old  friend,  Major what's 

the  name  ?  " 

"  Barton,"  repeated  the  other,  dryly. 

"Yes,  Major  Barton  ;  he's  come  from  his 
Excellency.  I  knew  that  last  paragraph 
would  do  it — eh,  Major  ?" 

"  You  were  quite  right,  sir,"  said  Bar- 
ton, slowly  and  distinctly,  "  that  paragraph 
did  do  it ;  and  very  fortunate  you  may 
esteem  yourself,  if  it  will  not  do  you  also." 

"Eh,  what!  how  me?  What  do  you 
mean  ?  " 

"  How  long,  may  I  beg  to  ask,"  contin- 
ued Barton,  in  the  same  quiet  tone  of  voice, 
"  have  you  known  this  young  gentleman  ?" 

"Burke — Tom  Burke? — bless  your  heart, 
since  the  height  of  that  fender.  His  father 
and  mine  were  schoolfellows.  I'm  not  sure 
he  wasn't  my  godfather,  or,  at  least,  one  of 
them  ;  I  had  four."  Here  the  captain  be- 
gan counting  on  his  fingers.  ''  There  was 
the  Moulah,  one  ;  the  Cham,  two — " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  for  the  interrup- 
tion," said  Barton,  with  affected  politeness; 
"how  long  has  he  occupied  these  quarters? 
That  fact  may  possibly  not  be  too  antiquat- 
ed for  your  memory." 

"How  long?"  said  Bubbleton,  reflcct- 
ingly.  "  Let  me  see  :  here  we  are  in  Au- 
gust— " 

" Three  weeks  on  Tuesday  last,"  said  I, 
interfering,  to  prevent  any  further  drain  on 
so  lavish  an  imagination. 

"  Then  you  came  here  on  the  day  of  the 
riots  ?  "  said  Barton. 

"  On  that  evening,"  was  my  reply, 

"On  that  evening — just  so.  Before  or 
after,  may  I  ask  ?  " 

"I  shall  answer  no  further  questions," 
said  I,  resolutely.  "If  you  have  any 
charge  against  me,  it  is  for  you  to  prove  it." 

"  Charge  against  you  !  "  said  Bubbleton, 
laughing.  "  Bless  your  heart,  boy,  don't 
mistake  him  ;  they've  sent  him  down  to 
compliment  you.  Lord  Castlereagh  men- 
tions in  his  note — where  the  devil  did  I 
throw  that  note  ?  " 

"It's  of  no  consequence,  Captain,"  said 
Barton,  dryly  ;  "his  Lordship  usually  en- 
trusts the  management  of  these  matters  to 


TOM   l:\RKE   OF  "OURS." 


289 


me.  May  I  learn,  is  this  young  gentleman 
Known  in  your  regimenl  ?     Has  he  been  .it 

your  mess  ?  " 

"Tom  Burke  known  among  us  !     Why, 

man,  he's  called  nothing  but  '  Burke  of 
Ours."  He's  our  of  ourselves— not  gazetted, 
you  know,  but  all  the  same  in  fact.  We 
couldn't  get  on  without  him  ;  lie's  like 
the  mess-plate,  or  the  orderly-book,  or  the 
regimental  snuff-box." 

"  I'm  sincerely  sorry,  sir,"  rejoined  Bar- 
ton, slowly,  "to  rob  you  and  the  gallahl 
Forty-fifth  of  one  upon  whom  you  place 
such  just  value  ;  but  '  Burkeof  Ours '  musi 
consent  to  be  Burke  of  mine  at  present." 

"  To  be  sure,  my  dear  Major,  of  course  ; 
anything  convivial —nothing  like  good  fel- 
lowship. We'll  lend  him  to  you  for  to-day 
— one  day,  mark  me — we  can't  spare  him 
longer  :  and,  now  I  think  of  it,  don't  press 
him  with  his  wine,  he's  been  poorly  of 
late." 

"  Have  no  fears  on  that  score,"  said  Bar- 
ton, laughing  outright  ;  "our  habits  of  life, 
in  his  circumstances,  are  rigidly  temperate." 
Then,  turning  to  me,  he  continued  in  an 
altered  voice,  "  I  need  scarcely  explain  to 
you,  sir,  the  reason  of  my  visit.  When  last 
we  parted  I  did  not  anticipate  that  our 
next  meeting  would  have  been  in  a  royal 
barrack  ;  but  you  may  thank  your  friend 
here  for  my  knowledge  of  your  abode — " 

Bubbleton  attempted  to  interpose  here  a 
panegyric  on  himself,  but  Barton  went  on  : 

"  Here  is  an  order  of  the  Privy  Council 
for  your  apprehension,  and  here — " 

"  Apprehension  !  "  echoed  the  captain,  in 
a  voice  of  wonderment  and  terror. 

"Here,  sir,  is  your  committal  to  New- 
gate. I  suppose  you'll  not  give  me  the 
trouble  of  using  force  ;  I  have  a  carriage  in 
waiting  below,  and  recmest  that  we  may 
lose  no  more  time." 

"lam  ready,  sir,"  said  I,  as  stoutly  as  I 
was  able. 

"To  Newgate  ! "  repeated  Bubbleton,  as, 
overcome  with  fright,  he  sank  back  in  a 
chair,  and  crossed  his  arms  on  his  breast. 
"  Poor  fellow  !  poor  fellow  !  perhaps  they'll 
bring  it.  in  manslaughter,  eh  ? — or  was  it  a 
bank  robbery  ?  " 

Not  even  the  misery  before  me  could 
prevent  my  smiling  at  the  worthy  captain's 
rapidly-conceived  narrative  of  me.  I  was 
in  no  merry  mood,  however  ;  and,  turning 
to  him,  grasped  his  hand. 

"It  may  happen,"  said  I,  "that  we 
never  meet  again.  I  know  not — indeed,  I 
hardly  care — what  is  before  me  ;  but,  with 
all  my  heart,  I  thank  you  for  your  kind- 
ness.    Farewell. " 

"Farewell,"  said  he,  half  mechanically, 
VOL.  i. — 19 


as  lie  grasped  my  hand  in  both  of  hi--,  and 
the  large  tears  rolled  'town  his  cheeks. 
••  Poor  fellow  !  all  my  fault    -see  it  now." 

I  hurried  after  Barton  down-stairs,  a 
nervous  choking  in  my  throal  uearlj  suffo- 
cating me.  Jusl  a- I  reached  the  door  the 
carriage  <lrew  up.  and  ;i  policeman  lei 
dow  ii  i  !m'  steps.  Alreadj  mj  fool  \ 
them,  when  Bubbleton  was  beside  me. 

'•I'll  go  with  him,  .Major:  you'll  permit 
me.  won't  yon  ?  " 

"  Not  at  present,  ( laptain,"  aid  Barton, 
significantly;  "it  may  happen  that  we 
shall  warn  you  one  of  these  days.  Good- 
by." 

lie  pushed  me  forward  as  he  spoke,  and 
entered  the  carriage  after  me.  J  felt  the 
pressure  of  poor  Bubbleton's  hand  as  he 
grasped  mine  for  the  last  time,  and  discov- 
ered he  had  slipped  something  into  my 
palm  at  parting.  1  opined  and  found 
two  guineas  in  gold,  which  the  kind- 
hearted  fellow  had  given  me;  perhaps  they 
were  his  only  ones  in  the  world. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 


THE   JAIL. 


From  the  moment  the  carriage-door 
closed  upon  us,  Barton  never  addressed  one 
word  to  me,  but,  leaning  back,  seemed  only 
anxious  to  escape  being  recognized  by  the 
people,  whose  attention  was  drawn  to  the 
vehicle  by  seeing  two  mounted  policemen 
ride  at  either  side  of  it.  We  drove  along 
the  quays,  and,  crossing  an  old,  dilapi- 
dated bridge,  traversed  several  obscure  and 
mean-looking  streets,  through  which  num- 
bers of  persons  were  hurrying  in  the  same 
direction  we  were  going.  At  length  we  ar- 
rived at  a  large  open  space,  thronged  with 
people,  whose  dress  and  appearance  bespoke 
them  from  the  country.  They  were  all 
conversing  in  a  low,  murmuring  tone,  and 
looking  up.  from  time  to  time,  toward  a 
massive  building  of  dark  granite,  which  I 
had  only  to  glance  at  to  guess  was  Newgate. 
Our  pace  slackened  to  a  walk  as  we  entered 
the  crowd;  ami  while  we  moved  slowly 
along,  I  was  struck  by  the  eager  and  ex- 
cited faces  I  saw  on  every  side.  It  could 
be  no  commen  occasion  which  impressed 
that  vast  multitude  with  the  one  character 
of  painful  anxiety  I  beheld.  As  they  stood 
gazing  with  upturned  faces  at  the  frowning 
portals  of  the  jail,  the  deep,  solemn  toll- 
ing of  a  bell  rung  out  at  the  moment,  and 
as'its  sad  notes  vibrated  through  the  air, 
it  seemed  to  strike  with  a  mournful  power 


290 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


on  every  heart  in  the  crowd.  In  an  in- 
stant, too,  the  windows  of  all  the  houses 
were  thronged  with  eager  faces — even  the 
parapets  were  crowded — and,  while  every 
sound  was  hushed,  each  eye  was  turned  in 
one  direction.  I  followed  with  my  own 
whither  the  others  were  bent,  and  beheld 
above  my  head  the  dark  framework  of  the 
"drop,"  covered  with  black  cloth,  above 
which  a  piece  of  rope  swung  backward  and 
forward  with  the  wind.  The  narrow  door 
behind  was  closed  ;  but  it  was  clear  that 
each  second  that  stole  by  was  bringing 
some  wretched  criminal  closer  to  his  awful 
doom. 

As  we  neared  the  entrance,  the  massive 
doors  were  opened  on  a  signal  from  a  po- 
liceman on  the  box  of  the  carriage,  and  we 
drove  inside  the  gloomy  vestibule.  It  was 
only  then,  as  the  heavy  door  banged  behind 
me,  that  my  heart  sank.  Up  to  that  moment 
a  mingled  sense  of  wrong,  and  a  feeling  of 
desperate  courage  had  nerved  me  ;  but  sud- 
denly a  cold  chill  ran  through  my  veins,  my 
knees  smote  each  other,  and  fear,  such  as 
till  then  I  never  knew,  crept  over  me.  The 
carriage-door  was  now  opened,  the  steps 
lowered,  and  Barton  descending  first,  ad- 
dressed a  few  words  to  a  person  near  him, 
whom  he  called  Mr.  Gregg. 

It  was  one  of  those  moments  in  life 
in  which  every  passing  look,  every  chance 
word,  every  stir,  every  gesture,  are  trea- 
sured up,  and  remembered  ever  after  ;  and 
I  recollect  now  how,  as  I  stepped  from  the 
carriage,  a  feeling  of  shame  passed  across 
me,  lest  the  bystanders  should  mark  my 
fear  ;  and  what  a  relief  I  experienced  on 
rinding  that  my  presence  was  unnoticed  ; 
and  then  the  instant  after  that  very  same 
neglect,  that  cold,  cold  indifference  to  me, 
smote  as  heavily  on  my  spirits,  and  I  looked 
on  myself  as  one  whose  fate  had  no  interest 
for  any — in  whose  fortune  none  sympa- 
thized. 

"  Drive  on 
coachman  ; 

through    the    narrow    passage    in 
some  dozen  of   persons  were   now 


! "  cried  a  rough  voice  to  the 
and     the     carriage      moved 
which 
stand- 


ing. The  next  moment,  a  murmur  of 
"They  are  coming-!"  was  heard,  and  the 
solemn  tones  of  a  man's  voice  chanting  the 
last  offices  of  the  Romish  Church  reached 
us,  with  the  measured  footfall  of  persons 
crossing  the  flagged  court-yard.  In  the 
backward  movement  now  made  by  those 
around  me,  I  was  brought  close  to  a  small 
arched  doorway,  within  which  a  flight  of 
stone  steps  ascended  in  a  spiral  direction, 
and  toward  this  point  I  remarked  that  the 
persons  who  approached  were  tending. 
My   eyes   scarcely   glanced    on   those  who 


came  first,  but  they  rested  with  a  fearful 
interest  on  the  bare  headed  priest,  who,  in 
ail  the  trappings  of  his  office,  walked, 
book  in  hand,  repeating  with  mournful  im- 
pressiveness  the  litany  for  the  dead.  -A*  he; 
came  nearer,  I  could  see  that  his  eyes  were 
dimmed  with  tears,  and  his  pale  lips  quiv- 
ered with  emotion,  while  his  very  cheek 
trembled  with  a  convulsive  agony.  Not  so 
he  avIio  followed.  He  was  a  young  man, 
scarce  four-and-twent  y,  dressed  in  loose 
white  trowsers  and  shirt,  but  without  coat, 
vest,  or  cravat  :  his  head  hare,  and  dis- 
playing a  broad  forehead,  across  which 
some  straggling  hairs  of  light  brown  were 
blown  by  the  wind.  His  eye  was  bright 
and  flashing,  and  in  the  center  of  his  pale 
cheek  a  small  crimson  spot  glowed  with  a 
hectic  coloring.  His  step  was  firm,  and 
as  he  planted  it  upon  the  ground,  a  kind 
of  elasticity  seemed  to  mark  his  footfall. 
He  endeavored  to  repeat  after  the  priest 
the  words  as  they  fell  from  him  ;  but  as  he 
looked  wildly  around,  it  was  clear  his  mind 
was  straying  from  the  subject  which  his 
lips  expressed,  and  that  thoughts  far  dif- 
ferent were  passing  within  him.  Suddenly 
his  eyes  fell  upon  the  Major,  who  stood 
close  to  where  I  was.  The  man  started 
back,  and  for  a  second  even  that  small  spot 
of  crimson  left  his-  cheek,  which  became 
nearly  livid  in  its  pallor.  A  ghastly  smile, 
that  showed  his  white  teeth  from  side  to 
side,  crossed  his  features,  and  with  a  voice 
of  terrible  earnestness,  he  said, 

"  'Tis  easy  for  you  to  look  calm,  sir,  at 
your  mornin's  work,  and  I  hope  you're 
plazed  at  it."  Then  frowning  fearfully,  as 
his  face  grew  purple,  he  added,  "But,  by 
the  Eternal  !  you'd  not  look  that  way  av 
we  two  stood  by  ourselves  on  the  side  of 
Sliebmish,  and  nothing  but  our  own  four 
arms  between  us." 

The  horrible  expression  of  vengeance 
that  lit  up  his  savage  face  at  these  words 
seemed  to  awe  even  the  callous  and  stern 
nature  of  Barton  himself.  All  his  efforts 
to  seem  calm  and  at  ease  were  for  the  mo- 
ment unavailing,  and  he  shrank  from  the 
proud  and  flashing  eye  of  the  felon,  as 
though  he  were  the  guilty  one  in  the  pres- 
ence of  his  accuser. 

Another  stroke  of  the  heavy  bell  rang 
out;  the  prisoner  started,  and,  turning 
round  his  head,  seemed  to  peer  anxiously 
through  the  crowd  behind  him,  when  his 
eyes  fell  upon  the  figure  of  a  man  appa- 
rently a  year  or  two  younger  than  himself, 
and  whose  features,  even  in  their  livid  col- 
oring, bore  a  striking  resemblance  to  his 
own. 

"  Come,  Patsey,"  cried  he — "come  along 


TOM  BVJIKE   OF  "OURS. 


Ml 


with  us."  Then  turning  to  the  jailer, 
while  his  face  assumed  a  smile,  and  his 
voice  a  tone  of  winning  softness,  lie  added, 
"It  is  my  brother,  sir,  he  is  come  up  nigh 
eighty  miles  to  see  me,  and  1  hope  you'll 
let  him  come  upon  the  drop." 

There  was  something  in  the  quiet  ear- 
nestness of  his  manner  in  such  a  moment 
thai  thrilled  upon  the  heart  more  pain- 
fully than  even  the  violent  outbreak  of  his 
passion;  and  when  I  saw  the  two  brothers 
hand  in  hand,  march  step  by  step  along, 
and  then  disappear  in  the  winding  of  the 
dark  stair,  a  sick,  cold  feeling  came  over 
me,  and  even  the  loud  shout  that  rent  the 
air  from  the  assembled  thousands  without 
scarce  roused  me  from  my  stupor. 

"Come,  sir,"  cried  a  man,  who  in  the 
dress  of  an  official  had  been  for  some  min- 
utes carefully  reading  over  the  document 
of  my  committal,  "after  me,  if  you 
please." 

I  followed  him  across  the  court-yard  in 
the  direction  of  a  small  building  which 
stood  isolated  and  apart .  from  the  rest, 
when  suddenly  he  stopped,  and  carefulty 
examining  the  paper  in  his  hand,  he  said, 

"  Wait  a  moment,  I'll  join  you  present- 

With  these  words  he  hurried  back  to- 
ward the  gate,  where  Barton  still  stood 
with  two  or  three  others.  What  passed 
between  them  I  could  not  hear,  but  I  could 
distinctly  mark  that  Barton's  manner  was 
more  abrupt  and  imperious  than  ever  ;  and 
that  while  the  jailer— for  such  he  was— 
expressed  his  scruples  of  one  kind  or  anoth- 
er, the  Major  would  not  hear  him  with  pa- 
tience, but,  turning  his  back  upon  him, 
called  out  loud  enough  to  be  heard  even 
where  I  stood — 

ft  I  tell  you  I  don't  care — regular  or  irreg- 
ular— if  you  refuse  to  take  him  in  charge, 
on  your  own  head  be  it.  We  have  come  to 
a  pretty  pass,  Pollock,"  said  he,  turning  to 
a  person  beside  him,  "when  there  is  more 
sympathy  for  a  rebel  in  his  Majesty's  jail, 
than  respect  for  a  Government  officer." 

"I'll  do  it.  sir— I'll  do  it,"  cried  the 
jailer  ;  saying  which  he  motioned  me  to 
follow,  while  he  muttered  between  his 
teeth,  "there  must  come  an  end  to  this, 
one  day  or  other." 

With  that  he  unlocked  a  strongly  barred 
gate,  and  led  me  along  a  narrow  passage, 
at  the  extremity  of  which  he  opened  a  door 
into  a  small  and  rather  comfortably  fur- 
nished room. 

"Here,  sir,"  said  he,  "you'll  be  better 
than  where  I  have  my  orders  to  put  you, 
and,  in  any  case,  I  trust  that  our  acquain- 
tance will  be  but  a  short  one." 


The-  li-   first  words  of  kindness  I 

had  heard  for  some  time  past.     1  turned  to 
thank   the  speaker,   bu1   already    the  door 

hail  closed,  ami    be  wa 

The  quickh  succeeding  incidents  of  my 
life  t be  dark  destiny  t hat  seen  ed  to  track 
me — hail  eivi  o  a  reflective  character  to  my 
mind  while  1  \.  boy.     The  troubles 

of  life,  that    in   man  ho  >d 
only    to    mold    and    fashion    eh.: 
call  forth  efforts  of  endurance,  ">  courage, 
or  ability,  come  upon  as  in  early  years  with 
far  differenl  <  Sect,  and  far  diffei 
ing.     Every  lesson  of  deceit  and  duplicity 
is  a  direct  shock  t<>  nunc  preconceived  no- 
tion of  faith  and  bono)- ;  every  punishment, 
whose  severitj  in  after  years  we  had 
gotten    in    its   justice,  has,  to  the   '■ 
youth,  a   character  of   vindictive  cruelty. 
Looking    only    to    effects,    and   never    to 
causes,  our  views  of  life  are  one-sided  and 
imperfect  ;  the  better  parts  of  our  nature 
will  as  often  mislead  us  by  false  sympathy, 
as  will  the  worst  ones  by  their  pernicious 
tendency. 

From  the  hour  1  quitted  my  father's 
house  to  the  present,  I  had  seen  nothing 
but  what  to  me  appeared  the  sufferings  of  i 
poor,defenseless  people  at  the  hands  of  wan- 
ton tyranny  and  outrage.  I  had  seen  the 
peasant's  cabin  bu  rued,  because  il  had  been  a 
shelter  to  an  outcast.  I  had  heard  the  loud 
and  drunken  denunciations  of  a  ruffianly 
soldiery  against  those  who  professed  no 
other  object,  who  acknowledged  no  other 
wish,  than  liberty  and  equality  :  and  in 
my  heart  I  vowed  a  rooted  hate  to  the  ene- 
mies of  my  country — a  vow  that  lost  noth- 
ing of  its  bitterness  because  it  was  made 
within  the  walls  of  a  prison. 

In  reflections  like  these  my  evening 
passed  on,  and  with  it  the  greater  part  of 
the  night  also.  My  mind  was  too  much 
excited  to  permit  me  to  sleep,  and  1  1< 
for  daybreak  with  that  craving  impatience 
which' sick  men  feel,  who  count  the  long 
hours  of  darkness,  and  think  the  morning 
must  bring  relief.  It  came  at  last,  and  the 
heavy,  clanking  sounds  of  massive  doors 
opening  and  shutting—  the,  mournful  echoes 
that  told  of  captivity  and  durance — sighed 
along  the  corridors,  and  then  all  was  still. 

There  is  a  time  in  reverie  when  silence 
seems  not  to  encourage  thought,  hut  rather, 
like  some  lowering  cloud,  to  hangover  and 
spread  a  gloomy  insensibility  around  us. 
Long  watching  and  much  thinking  had 
brought  me  now  to  this,  and  I  sat  looking 
upon'  the  faint  streak  of  sunlight  that 
streamed  through  the  barred  window,  and 
speculating  within  myself  when  it  would 
fall   upon   the  hearth."     Suddenly  I  heard 


292 


(  7/, I  R  L  ES   L  E  VERS  WORKS. 


the  sound  of  footsteps  in  the  corridor,  my 
door  was  opened,  and  the  jailer  entered, 
followed  by  a  man  carrying  my  breakfast. 

"  Come,  sir,"  said  the  former,  "I  hope 
you  have  got  an  appetite  for  our  prison  fare. 
Lose  no  time,  for  there  is  a  carriage  in 
waitingto  bring  you  to  the  Castle,  and  the 
Major  himself  is  without." 

"  I  am  ready  this  moment,"  said  I,  start- 
ing up,  and  taking  my  hat ;  and  notwith- 
standing every  entreaty  to  eat,  made  with 
kindness  and  good-nature,  I  refused  every- 
thing, and  followed  him  out  into  the  court- 
yard, where  Barton  was  pacing  up  and 
down,  impatiently  aAvaiting  our  coming. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


THE    CASTLE. 


Scarcely  had  the  carriage  driven  from 
the  gloomy  portals  of  the  jail,  and  entered 
one  of  the  long,  straggling  streets  that  led 
toward  the  river,  when  I  noticed  a  singular- 
looking  figure  who  ran  alongside,  and  kept 
up  with  us  as  we  went.  A  true  type  of  the 
raggedness  of  old  Dublin,  his  clothes  flut- 
tered behind  him  like  ribbons  ;  even  from 
his  hat,  his  long,  red  hair  straggled  and 
streamed,  while  his  nether  garments  dis- 
played a  patchwork  no  tartan  could  vie 
with  ;  his  legs  were  bare,  save  where  a 
single  top-boot  defended  one  of  them,  the 
other  was  naked  to  the  foot,  clad  in  an  old 
morocco  slipper,  which  he  kicked  up  and 
caught  again  as  he  went  with  surprising 
dexterity,  accompanying  the  feat  with  a 
wild  yell  which  might  have  shamed  a  war- 
whoop  ;  he  carried  a  bundle  of  printed 
papers  over  one  arm,  and  flourished  one  of 
them  in  his  right  hand,  vociferating  some- 
thing all  the  while  with  uncommon  energy. 
Scarcely  had  the  carriage  drawn  up  at  the 
door  of  an  old-fashioned  brick  building 
when  he  was  beside  it. 

"How  are  ye,  Major  ?  How  is  every  bit 
of  you,  sir  ?  Are  ye  taking  them  this 
mornin'  ? — 'tis  yourself  knows  how  !  Buy 
a  ha'porth,  sir."  " 

"  What  have  you  got  to-day,  Toby  ?  " 
said  the  Major,  with  a  greater  degree  of 
complacency  in  his  manner  than  I  had  ever 
noticed  before. 

"An  illigant  new  song  about  Buck 
Whaley  ;  or,  maybe,  you'd  like  'Beresford's 
Jig  ;  or,  the  Humors  of  Malbro'  Green."  ' 

"Why.  man,  they're  old  these  three 
weeks." 

"  True  for  ye,  Major.  Begorra  !  there's 
no  chafing  you  at  all,  at  all.     Well,  maybe 


you'll  have  this.  Here's  the  bloody  and 
cruel  outrage  committed  by  the  yeomen  on 
the  body  of  a  dacent  and  respectable  young 
man,  by  the  name  of  Darby  M'Keown, 
with  the  full  and  true  account  of  how  he 
was  inhumanly  stabbed  and  murdered  on 
the  8th  day  of  July—" 

"Ay,  give  me  that ;  I  hope  they've  done 
for  that  scoundrel  ;  I  have  been  on  his  track 
three  years." 

The  fellow  drew  near,  and,  as  he  handed 
the  paper  to  the  Major,  contrived  to  ap- 
proach close  to  where  I  stood.  "  Buy  one, 
master,"  said  he  ;  and,  as  he  spoke,  he 
turned  completely  round,  so  as  only  to  be 
observed  by  myself,  and  as  suddenly  the 
whole  expression  of  his  vacant  features 
changed  like  magic,  and  I  saw  before  me 
the  well-known  face  of  Darby  himself. 

"  Did  you  get  ah  answer  to  that  for  me, 
Toby  ?  "  said  the  Major. 

"  Yes,  sir,  here  it  is."  And  with  that 
he  pulled  off  his  tattered  hat,  and  Avithdrew 
a  letter  which  lay  concealed  within  the  lin- 
ing. "  'Tis  sixpence  you  ought  to  be  afther 
givin'  me  this  mornin',  Major,"  continued 
he,  in  an  insinuating  tone  of  voice  ;  "the 
devil  a  less  than  twenty-one  mile  it  is  out 
of  this,  not  to  spake  of  the  danger  I  run, 
and  the  boys  out  on  every  side  o'  me." 

"And  what's  the  news  up  the  country, 
Toby  ?  "  asked  the  Major,  as  he  broke  the 
seal  of  the  letter. 

"  'Tis  talking  of  a  risin'  they  do  be  still, 
sir — av  the  praties  was  in  ;  glory  be  to  God, 
they  say  it'll  be  a  great  sayson." 

"For  which,  Toby — the  cups  or  the 
croppies  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Toby,  with  a  most 
provoking  look  of  idiocy.  "  And  you 
won't  buy  Darby,  sir?"  rejoined  he,  flour- 
ishing the  printed  placard.  "No  matter  ; 
here's  the  whole,  full,  thrue,  and  particular 
account — "  And  so  he  turned  the  angle  of 
the  building,  and  I  could  hear  his  voice 
mingling  with  the  street  noises  as  he  wended 
his  way  down  Dame  street.  The  Major 
looked  after  him  and  smiled,  and  brief  as 
was  that  smile,  I  saw  in  it  how  thoroughly 
he  was  duped. 

"  Come,  sir,  follow  me,  if  you  please," 
said  he,  addressing  me. 

I  mounted  a  flight  of  old  and  neglected 
stairs,  and  entered  an  anteroom,  where, 
having  waited  for  a  few  seconds,  the  Major 
whispered  an  order  to  the  porter,  and 
passed  on  to  the  inner  room,  leaving  me 
behind.  . 

As  Major  Barton  passed  out  by  one  door, 
I  he  porter  turned  the  key  in  the  other,  and, 
placing  it  in  his  pocket,  drew  his  chair  to 
the  window  and  resumed  the  newspaper  he 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OfrRS." 


293 


was  reading  when  we  entered.  How  long  I 
waited  1  cannot  say.  My  thoughts,  though 
sad  ones,  chased  each  other  rapidly,  and  I 
felt  not  the  time  as  it  passed.  Suddenly  the 
door  opened,  and  I  heard  my  name  called. 
1  drew  a  deep  breath,  like  one  who  fell  h 
fate  was  in  the  balance,  and  entered. 

The  room,  which  was  plainly  furnished, 
seemed  to  serve  as  an  office.  The  green- 
covered  table  that  stood  in  the  middle  was 
littered  with  letters  and  paper-,  among 
which  a  large,  heavy-browed,  dark-featured 
man  was  searching  busily  as  I  came  in. 
Behind,  and  partly  beside  him,  stood  liar- 
ton,  in  an  attitude  of  respectful  attention, 
while,  with  his  back  to  the.fire,  was  a  third 
person,  whose  age  might  have  been  from 
thirty-five  to  forty.  His  dress  was  in  the 
perfection  of  the  mode,  his  top-boots  reach- 
ing to  the  middle  of  his  leg;  his  coat,  of 
the  lightest  shade  of  sky-blue,  was  lined 
with  white  silk;  and  two  watch-chains 
hung  down  beneath  his  buff  waistcoat,  in 
the  acme  of  the  then  fashion.  His  features 
were  frank  and  handsome,  and,  saving  a 
dash  of  puppyism  that  gave  a  character  of 
weakness  to  the  expression,  I  should  deem 
him  a  manly,  fine-looking  fellow. 

"  So  this  is  your  '  Robespierre  ! '  Major, 
is  it  ?  "  cried  he,  bursting  into  a  laugh,  as  I 
appeared. 

Barton  approached  nearer  to  him,  and 
muttered  something  in  a  low,  mum- 
bling tone,  to  which  the  other  seemed  to 
pay  little,  if  any,  attention. 

"You  are  here,  sir,"  said  the  dark-fea- 
tured man  at  the  table,  holding  in  his  hand 
a  paper  as  he  spoke — "You  are  here,  under 
a  warrant  of  the  Privy  Council,  charging 
you  with  holding  intercourse  with  that  re- 
bellious and  ill-fated  faction  who  seek  to 
disturb  the  peace  and  welfare  of  this  coun- 
try— disseminating  dangerous  and  wicked 
doctrines,  and  being  in  alliance  with 
France — with  France —  What's  that  word, 
Barton  ?— to—  " 

"In  two  words,  young  gentleman,  said 
the  young  man  at  the  fire,  "  you  are  charged 
with  keeping  very  bad  company — learning 
exceedingly  unprofitable  notions,  and  incur- 
ring very  considerable  present  risk.  Now 
1  am  not  disposed  to  think  that,  at  your 
age,  and  with  your  respectable  connections, 
either  the  cause  or  its  associates  can  have 
taken  a  very  strong  hold  of  your  mind.  I 
am  sure  that  you  must  have  received  your 
impressions,  such  as  they  are,  from  artful 
and  designing  persons,  who  had  only  their 
own  ends  in  view  when  involving  you  in 
their  plots.  If  I  am  justified  in  this 
opinion,  and  if  you  will  pledge  me  your 
honor —  " 


'•I   say,  Cooke,  you  can't  do  this.     The 

warrant  sets  fori  h — " 
•■  Well,  well,  we'll  admil  him  to  bail." 
••  It    is  not   bailable,  Bight   Honorable," 

said    Barton;  addressing  the  I-  ..t 

t  he  table. 

"  Phelan,"  said  the  younger  man.  turn- 
in   pique,  •'  we  reallj  have  n    t- 
of   more  importance  than   this  b< 
case  to  look  after." 

"  Boy  a     hi    is,  Bir,"  said   Barton, 
quiously,  "he  was  in  the  full  confidence 
of  thai  notorious  French  captain  for  whose 
capture  you  offered  a  reward  of  one  thou- 
sand  p"U||(ls." 

••Yon  like  to  run  your  Eos  to  earth, 
Barton,"  replied  the  Under-Secretary, 
calmly,  for  it  was  he  who  spoke. 

"In  alliance  with  Prance,"  continued 
the  dark  man,  reading  from  the  paper, 
over  which  he  continued  to  pore  ever  since, 
"for  the  propagation — ay,  that's  it  -the 
propagation  of  democratic — " 

"Come,  come,  Browne,  nevermind  the 
warrant  ;  if  he  can  find  bail — say  five 
hundred  pounds — for  his  future  appear- 
ance, we  shall  be  satisfied.'' 

Browne,  who  never  took  his  eyes  from 
the  paper,  and  seemed  totally  insensible  to 
everything  but  the  eurrenl  of  his  own 
thoughts,  now  looked  up,  and,  fixing  his 
dark  and  beetling  look  upon  me,  uttered  in 
a  deep,  low  tone  : 

'5  You  see,  sir.  the  imminent  dang 
your  present  position,  and  at  the  same 
time  the  merciful  leniency  which  has 
always  characterized  his  Majesty's  Govern- 
ment— ahem  !  If,  therefore,  you  will 
plead  guilty  to  any  transportable  felony, 
the  grand  jury  will  find  true  bills — " 

"You  mistake.  Browne,"*  said  Cooke, 
endeavoring  with  his  handkerchief  to 
repress  a  burst  of  laughter,  "  we  are  going 
to  take  his  bail." 

"  Bail  !  "  said  the  other,  in  a  voice  and 
with  a  look  of  amazement  absolutely  comic. 

Up  to  this  moment  1  had  not  broken 
silence,  but  I  was  unable  to  remain  longer 
without  speaking. 

"I  am  quire    ready,   sir."  said  I, 
lutely,    •'  to  stand    my  trial   for  anything 
laid  to  my  charge.     I  am  neither  ashamed 
of  the  opinions  1  profess,  nor  afraid  of  the 
dangers  the\   involve." 

"You  hear  him,  sir,  you  hear  him," 
said  Barron,  triumphantly,  turning  toward 
the  Secretary,  who  bit  his  lip  in  disap- 
pointment, and  frowned  on  me  with  a 
mingled  expression  of  anger  and  warning. 
••  Let  him  only  proceed,  and  you'll  be 
quite  satisfied,  on  his  own  showing,  that 
he  cannot  be  admit  red  to  bail." 


294 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


"Bail!"  echoed  the  right  honorable, 
whose  faculties  seemed  to  have  stuck  fast 
in  the  mud  of  thought,  and  were  totally 
unable  to  extriqate  themselves. 

At  the  same  moment,  a  gentle  tap  was 
heard  at  the  door,  and  the  porter  entered 
with  a  card,  which  he  delivered  to  the  Sec- 
retary. 

"  Let  him  wait,"  was  the  brief  reply,  as 
he  threw  his  eyes  over  it.  "  Captain  Bub- 
bleton,"  muttered  he,  between  his  teeth. 
"  Don't  know  him." 

I  started  at  the  name,  and  felt  my  cheek 
flush  ;  he  saw  it  at  once. 

"You  know  this  gentleman,  then,"  said 
he  mildly. 

"Yes;  to  his  humanity  I  am  indebted 
for  my  life." 

"I  think  I  shall  be  able  to  show,  sir," 
said  Barton,  interposing,  "that  through 
this  Burke's  instrumentality  a  very  deep 
scheme  of  disaffection  is  at  this  moment  in 
operation  among  the  troops  in  garrison.  It 
was  in  the  barrack  at  George's  street  that  I 
apprehended  him." 

"  You  may  withdraw,  sir,"  said  the  Sec- 
retary, turning  toward  me.  "Let Captain 
Bubbleton  come  in." 

As  I  left  the  room,  the  burly  captain  en- 
tered ;  but  so  flurried  and  excited  was  he, 
that  lie  never  perceived  me,  as  we  passed 
each  other. 

I  had  not  been  many  minutes  in  the  out- 
er room  when  a  loud  laugh  attracted  .me, 
in  which  I  could  distinctly  recognize  the 
merry  cadence  of  my  friend  Bubbleton;  and 
shortly  after  the  door  was  opened,  and  I 
was  desired  to  enter. 

"You  distinctly  understand,  then,  Cap- 
tain Bubbleton,"  said  Mr.  Cooke,  "  that  in 
accepting  the  bail  in  this  case,  I  am  assum- 
ing a  responsibility  which  may  involve  me 
in  trouble  ?  " 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  it,"  muttered  Bar- 
ton, between  his  teeth. 

"  We  shall  require  two  sureties  of  five 
hundred  pounds  each." 

"  Take  the  whole  myself,  by  Jove  !"  broke 
in  Bubbleton,  with  a  flourish  of  his  hand. 
"  In  for  a  penny — eh,  Tom  ?" 

"  You  can't  do  that,  sir,"  interposed  Bar- 
ton. 

The  Secretary  nodded  an  assent,  and  for 
a  moment  or  two  Bubbleton  looked  non- 
plussed. 

"  You'll  of  course  have  little  difficulty  as 
to  a  co-surety,"  continued  Barton  with  a 
grin.  "Burke  of  'Ours'  is  sufficiently 
popular  in  the  Forty-fifth  to  make  it  an  easy 
matter." 

" True,"  cried  Bubbleton,  "quite  true  ; 
but  in  a  thing  of  this   kind,  every  fellow 


will  be  so  deuced  anxious  to  come  forward 
— a  kind  of  military  feeling,  you  know." 

"  I  understand  it  perfectly,"  said  Cooke, 
with  a  polite  bow  ;  "although  civilian,  I 
think  1  can  estimate  the  ' esprit  de  corps' 
you  speak  of." 

"Nothing  like  it,  nothing  like  it,  by 
Jove  !  I'll  just  tell  you  a  story — a  little 
anecdote  in  point.  When  we  were  m  the 
Neelgharries,  there  was  a  tiger  devilish  fond 
of  one  of  ours.  Some  way  or  other,  Forbes 
— that  was  his  name — " 

"The  tiger's  ?" 

"  No  !  the  captain's.  Forbes  had  a  dev- 
ilish insinuating  way  with  him — women 
always  liked  him — and  this  tiger  used  to 
come  in  after  mess,  and  walk  round  to 
where  he  was  sitting,  and  Forbes  used  to 
give  him  his  dinner,  just  as  you  might  a 
dog—" 

The  Castle  clock  struck  three  just  at  this 
moment ;  the  Secretary  started  up  : 

"My  dear  captain,"  cried  he,  puttinghis 
hand  on  Bubbleton's  arm,  "  I  never  was  so 
sorry  in  my  life  ;  but  I  must  hurry  away  to 
the  Privy  Council.  I  shall  be  here,  how- 
ever, at  four  ;  and  if  you  will  meet  me  at 
that  time  with  the  other  security,  we  can 
arrange  this  little  matter  at  once."  Sosay- 
ing,  he  seized  his  hat,  bowed  politely  roun(£ 
the  room,  and  left  us. 

"Come  along,  Tom,"  cried  Bubbleton. 
taking  me  by  the  arm  ;  "devilish  good  fel- 
low that  ;  knew  I'd  tickle  him  with  the 
tiger  ;  nothing  to  what  I  could  have  told 
him,  however,  if  he  had  waited." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Barton, 
interposing  between  us  and  the  door,  "Mr. 
Burke  is  in  custody  until  the  formality  at 
least  of  a  bail  be  gone  through." 

"So  he  is,"  said  Bubbleton  ;  "I  forgot 
all  about  it.  So  good-by,  Tom,  for  half 
an  hour  :  I'll  not  be  longer,  depend  on  it."" 

With  this  he  shook  me  warmly  by  the 
hand,  bustled  out  of  the  room,  and  hurried 
down-stairs,  humming  a  tune  as  he  went, 
apparently  in  capital  spirits,  while  I  knew 
from  his  manner  that  the  bail  he  was  in 
search  of  had  about  as  much  existence  as 
the  tiger  in  the  Neelgharries. 

"  You  can  wait  in  /this  room,  sir,"  said 
Barton,  opening  the  door  of  a  small  apart- 
ment which  had  no  other  exit  save  through 
this  office. 

I  sat  down  in  silence  and  in  sorrow  of 
heart,  to  speculate,  as  well  as  I  was  able, 
on  the  consequences  of  my  misfortune.  I 
knew  enough  of  Bubbleton  to  be  certain 
that  all  chance  of  assistance  in  that  quarter 
was  out  of  the  question— the  only  source  Ikt 
could  draw  upon  being  his  invention — the 
only  wealth  he  possessed,  the  riches  of  his 


TOM   BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


295 


imagination — which  had,  however,  this  ad- 
vantage over  any  other  species  of  property 
I  ever  heard  of  the  more  he  squandered  it, 
themore  affluent  did  he  become.  Time  wore 
on  ;  the  clock  struck  four ;  and  yel  no  ap- 
pearance of  Bubbleton.  Another  hour 
rolled  by—no  one  came  near  me,  and  at 
length,  from  the  perfect  stillness  without,  1  j 
believed  they  had  forgotten  me. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    BAIL. 

Six  o'clock,  seven,  and  even  eight  struck, 
and  yet  no  one  came.  The  monotonous 
tread  of  the  sentry  on  guard  at  the  Oastlc 
gate,  and  the  occasional  challenge  to  some 
passing  stranger,  were  the  only  sounds  I 
heard  ahove  the  distant  hum  of  the  city, 
which  grew  fainter  gradually  as  evening 
fell.  At  last  I  heard  the  sound  of  a  key 
moving  in  a  lock,  the  hang  of  a  door,  and 
then  came  the  noise  of  many  voices,  as  the 
footsteps  mounted  the  stairs,  amid  which 
Bubbleton's  was  pre-eminently  loud.  The 
party  entered  the  room  next  to  where  I  sat, 
and,  from  the  tones,  I  could  collect  that 
Major  Barton  and  Mr.  Cooke  were  of  the 
number.  Another  there  was,  too,  whose 
voice  was  not  absolutely  new  or  strange  to 
my  ears,  though  I  could  not  possibly  charge 
my  memory  where  1  had  heard  it  before. 

While  I  was  thus  musing,  the  door  open- 
ed noiselessly,  and  Bubbleton  entering 
without  a  word,  closed  it  behind  him,  and 
approached  me  on  tiptoe. 

"  All  right,  my  boy  ;  they're  doing  the 
needful  outside;  ready  in  ten  minutes; 
never  was  such  a  piece  of  fortune  ;  found 
out  a  glorious  fellow ;  heard  of  him  from 
Hicks,  the  money-lender  ;  heTi  go  security 
to  any  amount  ;  knows  your  family  well  ; 
knew  your  father,  grandfather,  I  believe  ; 
delighted  to  meet  you  ;  says  he'd  rather  see 
you  than  fifty  pounds  !" 

"  Who  is  he,  for  Heaven's  sake  ?"  said  1, 
impatiently  ;  for  it  was  a  new  thing  to  me 
to  receive  anything  like  kindness  on  the 
score  of  my  father's  memory. 

"  Eh  !  who  is  he  ?  He's  a  kind  of  a 
bill-broking,  mortgaging,  bail-giving,  dev- 
ilish good  sort  of  fellow.  I've  a  notion 
he'd  do  a  bit  of  something  at  three 
months." 

"  But  his  name — what's  he  called.'' 

"  His  name  is — let  me  see — his  name  is 

But  who  cares  for  his  name  ?    He  can 

write  it,  I  suppose,  on  a  stamp,  my  boy — 
that's  the  mark.     Bless  your  heart,  I  only 


spoil  a  stamp  when  I  pnl  my  autograph 
across  ii — it  would  be  worth  prime  cos!  til] 
thru.  Wh;it  ;i  glorious  thing  is  youth  — 
unfledged,  unblemished  youth  to  posa  aa 
;i  name  new  to  the  Jews  a  reputation 
against  which  no  one  has  '  prot  sted  ! ' 
Tom  Burke,  my  boy,  1  envy  you.  Now. 
when  1  write  George  Frederick  Augustus 
Bubbleton  on  any  bill,  warrant,  or  quit- 
tance, straightway  there's  a  grin  around 
the  circle  a  kind  of  a  d-  d  impertinent 
sort  of  a  half-civil  smile,  as  though  t 
'nulla  bona,  payable  nowhere.  Bui  hold! 
thai  was  a  tap  al  the  door  -oh,  they  want 
us." 

So  saying,  the  captain  opened  the  door 
and  nil  reduced  me. 

"I    say,   Tom,"  cried  he,    "come  here, 

and     thank    our    kind    friend,   Mr.    , 

Mr. " 

"Mr.  Basset,"  said  I,  starting  back,  as 
my  eyes  beheld  the  pale,  sarcastic  features 
of  the  worthy  attorney,  who  stood  at  the 
table,  conversing  in  a  low  tone  with  the 
Under-Secretary. 

'•Eh!  what's  the  matter?"  whispered 
Bubbleton,  as  he  saw  my  color  come  ami 
go,  and  perceived  that  I  leaned  on  a  chair 
for  support.  "  What  the  devil's  wrong 
now  ?  " 

"  You've  betrayed  me  to  my  greatest 
enemy,"  said  I,  in  a  low,  distinct  voice. 

"Eh!  what! — why  you  seem  to  have 
nothing  but  foes  in  the  world.  Confound 
it.  that's  always  my  luck — my  infernal 
good  nature  is  everlastingly  making  a  wrong 
plunge." 

"  In  that  case,  if  I  understand  the  mat- 
ter aright,  the  bail  is  unnecessarv,"  said 
Mr.  Cooke,  addressing  Basset,  who  never 
turned  his  head  to  the  part  of  the  room 
where  we  stood. 

"  No,  sir,  it  is  not  necessary.  While  the 
law  assists  me  to  resume  my  guardianship  of 
tins  young  gentleman,  I  am  answerable  for 
Ins  appearance." 

"  The  indentures  are  quite  correct,"  said 
Barton,  as  he  laid  the  papers  on  the  table, 
"as  I  believe  Mr.  Basset's  statement  to  be 
also." 

••No  bail  necessary,"  interrupted  Bub- 
bleton, rubbing  his  hands  pleasantly,  "so 
much  the  belter.  Wish  them  good  even- 
ing, Tom,  my  hearty  ;  we  shall  be  back  in 
time  for  supper.  You  wouldn't  take  an 
oyster,  Mr.  Cook?  ?" 

"  I  thank  you  very  much,  but  I  am  un- 
fortunately engaged. " 

"Not  so  fast,  Captain,  1  beg  you."  said 
Basset,  with  a  most  servile  but  malig- 
nant expression  in  his  features.  "The 
habits  I  would  inculcate  to  my  apprentice 


29« 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


are  r.ot  exactly  consistent  with  mess-parties 
and  barrack-suppers." 

'•'Apprentice!  apprentice!"  said  Bub- 
bleton,  starting  as  if  stung  by  a  wasp. 
"Eh  !  you're  surely  not — not  the — the — " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;. there's  the  indenture,  signed 
and  sealed,  if  you  are  desirous  to  satisfy 
yourself.  The  young  gentleman  himself 
will  not  deny  his  father's  instructions  con- 
cerning him." 

I  hung  down  my  head,  abashed  and 
ashamed.  The  tears  started  to  my  eyes ; 
I  turned  away  to  wipe  them,  and  feared  to 
face  the  others  again  ;  I  saw  that  Bubble- 
ton,  my  only  friend,  believed  I  had  prac- 
ticed some  deceit  on  him — and  how  to  ex- 
plain, without  disclosing  what  I  dare  not  ! 
There  was  a  bustle  in  the  room — a  sound 
of  voices — the  noise  of  feet  descending  the 
stairs ;  and  when  I  again  looked  round,  they 
were  all  gone,  save  Basset,  who  was  leisure- 
ly collecting  his  papers  together,  and  fasten- 
ing them  with  a  string.  I  turned  my  eyes 
everywhere  to  see  if  Bubbleton  had  not  re- 
mained. But  no,  he  had  left  me  like  the 
rest,  and  I  was  alone  with  the  man  I  most 
dreaded  and  disliked  of  all  the  world." 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Basset,  as  he  thrust 
the  papers  into  the  pocket  of  his  great- 
coat, "  I'm  ready  now." 

"Where  to,  sir!'"'  replied  I,  sternly,  as 
he  moved  to  leave  the  room  ;  for  without 
thinking  of  how  and  winy  I  was  to  succeed 
in  it,  a  vague  resolution  of  defiance  flitted 
through  my  mind. 

"To  my  house,  sir,  or  to  Newgate,  if 
you  prefer  it.  Don't  mistake,  young  gen- 
tleman, for  a  moment,  the  position  you 
occupy — you  owe  your  liberation  at  this 
moment  not  to  any  merits  of  your  own. 
Your  connection  with  the  disaffected  and 
rebellious  body  is  well  known  :  my  interest 
with  the  government  is  your  only  protec- 
tion. Again,  sir,  let  me  add,  that  I  have  no 
peculiar  desire  for  your  company  in  my 
family  ;  neither  the  habits  nor  the  opinions 
you  have  acquired  will  suit  those  you'll 
meet  there." 

"  Why,  then,  have  you  interfered  with 
me?"  said  I,  passionately.  "Why  not 
have  left  me  to  my  fate  ?  Be  it  what  it 
might,  it  would  have  been  not  less  accept- 
able, I  assure  you,  than  to  become  an  in- 
mate of  your  house." 

"  That  question  were  very  easily  an- 
swered," said  he,  interrupting  me. 

"  Then,  why  not  do  so  ?  " 

"Come,  come,  sir,  these  are  not  the 
terms  which  are  to  subsist  between  us,  nor 
is  this  the  place  to  discuss  our  difference. 
Follow  me." 

He  led  the  way  down-stairs  as  he  spoke. 


and,  taking  my  arm  within  his,  turned 
into  the  street.  Without  a  word  on  either 
side  we  proceeded  down  Parliament  street, 
and  crossing  Essex  bridge,  followed  the 
quays  for  some  time,  then  turning  into 
Stafford  street,  we  arrived  at  a  house,  when 
having  taken  a  latch-key  from  his  pocket, 
Basset  opened  the  door  and  ushered  me  in, 
muttering  half  aloud  as  he  turned  the  key 
in  the  lock,  and  fastened  the  bolt,  "Safe 
at  last."  We  turned  from  the  narrow  hall 
into  a  small  parlor,  which,  from  its  dingy 
furniture  of  writing-desk  and  stools,  I 
guessed  to  serve  as  an  office.  Here  my 
companion  lit  a  candle  from  the  embers  of 
the  fire,  and  having  carefully  closed  the 
door  he  motioned  me  to  a  seat. 

"  I  have  already  told  you,  sir,  that  I  am 
not  in  the  least  covetous  of  your  company 
in  my  house  ;  circumstances,  which  I  may 
or  may  not  explain  hereafter,  have  led  me 
to  rescue  you  from  the  disgrace  you  must 
eventually  have  brought  upon  your  family." 

"Hold,  sir,  I  have  none,  save  a  brother — " 

"Well,  sir,  and  your  brother's  feelings 
are,  I  trust,  not  to  be  slightingly  treated — 
a  young  gentleman  whose  position  and 
prospects  are  of  the  very  highest  order." 

"You  are  his  agent,  I  perceive,  Mr. 
Basset,"  said  I,  with  a  significant  smile. 

"  I  am,  sir,"  replied  he,  with  a  deep 
flush  that  mounted  even  to  his  forehead. 

"  Then  let  me  save  you  all  further 
trouble  on  my  account,"  said  I,  calmly. 
"My  brother's  indifference  to  me  or  my 
fate  has  long  since  absolved  me  from  any 
regret  I  might  feel  for  the  consequences 
which  my  actions  might  induce  on  his  for- 
tunes. His  own  conduct  must  stamp  him, 
as  mine  must  me.  I  choose  to  judge  for 
myself,  and  not  even  Mr.  Basset  shall  de- 
cide for  me,  although  I  am  well  aware  his 
powers  of  discrimination  have  had  the 
double  advantage  of  experience  on  both 
sides  of  the  question." 

As  I  said  this  his  face  became  almost 
livid,  and  his  white  lips  quivered  with  pas- 
sion. He  knew  not  before  that  I  was  ac- 
quainted with  3iis  history,  nor  that  I  knew 
of  his  having  sold  to  the  government  in- 
formation which  brought  his  schoolfellow 
and  benefactor  to  the  scaffold. 

"Come,  come,"  continued  I,  gaining 
courage,  a's  I  saw  the  effect  my  words  pro- 
duced, "it  is  not  your  interest  to  injure 
me,  however  it  may  be  your  wish.  Is  there 
no  arrangement  we  can  come  to,  mutually 
advantageous  ?  We  shall  be  but  sorry  com- 
panions. I  ought  to  have  some  property 
under  my  grandfather's  will." 

"  There  is,  I  believe,  five  hundred 
pounds,"  said  Basset,  with  a  slow  distinct- 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


297 


ness,  as  if  not  rejecting  the  turn  the  con- 
versation had  taken. 

"  Well,  then,  what  will  you  take  and 
cancel  that  indenture  ?  You  don't  sol  a 
-very  high  value,  on  my  services,  I  sup- 
pose ?" 

"You  forget,  Ijperceive,"  said  he,  "  thai 
I  am  answerable  for  your  future  appearance, 
if  called  on." 

"There  was  no  bail-bond  drawn  out, 
no  sum  mentioned,  if  I  mistake  not,  Mr. 
Basset." 

"  Very  true,  sir,  very  true  ;  but  I  pledged 
myself  to  the  law  adviser — my  character  is 
responsible.'' 

"  Well,  well,  let  me  have  two  hundred 
pounds — burn  that  cursed  indenture — " 

"  Two  hundred  pounds  !  Do  you  fancy, 
then,  that  you  are  in  the  possession  of  this 
legacy?  Why,  it  never  may,  in  all  likeli- 
hood it  never  will,  be  yours — it's  only  pay- 
able on  your  attaining  your  majority/' 

"Give  me  one  hundred  pounds,  then — 
give  me  fifty — let  me  only  be  free,  at 
liberty,  and  not  absolutely  a  beggar  on  the 
streets." 

Basset  leaned  his  head  on  the  chimney, 
and  seemed  sunk  in  reflection,  while  I, 
wound  up  to  the  highest  pitch  of  excite- 
ment, trod  up  and  down  the  room,  pour- 
ing forth  from  time  to  time  short  and 
broken  sentences,  declaratory  of  my  desire 
to  surrender  all  that  I  might  chance  to  in- 
herit by  every  casualty  in  life,  to  my  last 
guinea,  only  let  there  be  no  constraint  on 
my  actions — no  attempt  to  control  my  per- 
sonal liberty. 

"I  see,"  cried  I,  passionately — "I  see 
what  hampers  you — you  fear  I  may  com- 
promise my  family  /  It  is  my  brother's 
fair  fame  you  are  thinking  of  ;  but  away 
with  all  dread  on  that  score — I'll  leave  Ire- 
land— I  have  long  since  determined  on 
that." 

"Indeed!"  said  Basset,  slowly,  as  he 
turned  round  his  head,  and  looked  me  full 
in  the  face.  "  Would  you  go  to  America, 
then?" 

"  To  America  !  no — to  France  !  that  shall 
be  the  land  of  my  adoption,  as  it  is  this 
moment  of  all  my  heart's  longings." 

His  eyes  sparkled,  and  a  gleam  of  plea- 
sure shot  across  his  cold  features,  as  if  he 
caught  a  glow  of  the  enthusiasm  that  lit 
up  mine. 

"Come,"  cried  he,  "I'll  think  of  tins- 
give  me  till  to-morrow,  and  if  you'll 
pledge  yourself  to  leave  Ireland  within  a 
week — " 

"Til  pledge  myself  to  nothing  of  the 
kind,"  replied  I,  fiercely.  "It  is  to  be  free 
— free  in  thought  as  in  act,  that  I  would 


barter  all  my  prospects  with  you.  There 
must  be  but  one  compact  between  us — it 
must  begin  and  end  here.  Take  a  n  ii 
you  will  to  think  it  ever,  and  to-morrow 
morning — " 

"  Well,  then,  to-morrow  morning  be  it," 
said  he, with  more  of  animation  in  hie 
"  and  now  to  supper." 

"  To  bed,    iai her,"  said    I.   "  if  I 
speak  my  mind,  for  rest  is  whal  1  now  stand 
most  in  deed  of." 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

MI!.  BASSET'S  DWELLING. 

Excepting  the  two  dingy-looking,  dust- 
covered  parlors,  which  served  as  office  and 
dining-room,  the  only  portion  of  Mr.  Bas- 
set's dwelling  untenanted  by  lodgers  were 
the  attics.  The  large  brass  plate  that 
adorned  the  hall-door,  settingforth  in  con- 
spicuous letters,  "Anthony  Basset,  At- 
torney," gave  indeed  a  most  inadequate 
notion  of  the  mixed  population  within, 
whose  respectability,  in  the  inverse  ratio  i  f 
their  height  from  the  ground,  went  on 
growing  beautifully  less,  till  it  found  its 
culminating  point  in  the  host  himself,  on 
whose  venerable  head  the  lighl  streamed 
from  a  cobweb-covered  pane  m  the  roof. 
The  stairs  were  dark  and  narrow,  the  walls 
covered  with  a  dull-colored  old  wainscot, 
that  flapped  and  banged  with  every  foot 
that  came  and  went,  while  the  windows 
were  defended  by  strong  iron  railings,  as  if 
anything  inside  them  could  possibly  de- 
mand such  means  of  protection. 

I  followed  Mr.  Basset  as  he  led  the  way 
up  these  apparently  interminable  stairs;  till 
at  length  the  decreasing  head-room  be- 
tokened that  we  were  near  the  slates. 
Mumbling  a  half  apology  for  the  loca 
introduced  me  into  a  long,  low  attic,  \v  here 
a  settle  bed  of  the  humblest  pretensions, 
and  a  single  rush-bottomed  chair  support- 
ing a  basin,  were  #ie  only  articles  of  fur- 
niture. .Something  like  the  drop-curtain 
of  a  strolling  theatre  closed  up  the  dis- 
tance; but  this  I  could  only  perceive  im- 
perfectly by  the  dim  twilighl  of  a  dip 
candle  ;  and  in  my  state  of  fatigue  and 
weariness,  I  had  little  inclination  to  explore 
further.  Wishing  me  a  good-night,  and 
promising  thai  1  should  be  called  betimes 
next  morning,  Mr,  Basset  took  his  leave, 
while  I,  overcome  by  a  long  day  of  care 
and  anxiety,  threw  myself  on  the  bed,  and 
slept  far  more  soundly  than  I  could  have 
believed  it  were  possible  for  me  todo  under 
the  roof  of  Anthony  Basset. 


398 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


The  sun  was  streaming  in  a  rich  flood  of 
yellow  light  through  a  small  skylight,  and 
playing  its  merry  gambols  on  thefloorwhen 

I  awoke.  The  birds,  too,  were  singing  ;  and 
the  hum  of  the  street  noises,  mellowed  by 
distance,  broke  not  unpleasantly  on  the  ear. 
It  did  not  take  me  long  to  remember  where 
I  was,  and  why.  The  conversation  of  the, 
evening  before  recurred  aton00  to  my  mind, 
and  hope,  stronger  than  ever  before  I  felt 
it,  filled  my  heart.  It  was  clear  Basset 
could  place  little  value  on  such  services  as 
mine  ;  and  if  I  could  only  contrive  to  make 
it  his  interest  to  part  with  me,  he  would 
not  hesitate  about  it.  I  resolved  that, 
whatever  price  he  put  upon  my  freedom,  if 
in  my  power  I  should  pay  it.  My  next  plan 
was  to  find  out,  through  some  of  the  per- 
sons in  correspondence  with  France,  the 
means  of  reaching  that  country,  in  whose 
military  service  I  longed  to  enroll  myself. 
Had  I  but  the  papers  of  my  poor  friend 
Charles  de  Meuclon,  there  had  been  little 
difficulty  in  this  ;  but,  unfortunately,  they 
were  seized  by  Major  Barton,  on  the  day  of 
his  death,  and  I  had  never  seen  them  since. 

While  I  revolved  these  thoughts  within 
myself  I  heard  the  merry  notes  of  a- girl's 
voice,  singing,  apparently,  in  the  very  room 
with  me.  I  started  up  and  looked  about 
me,  and  now  perceived  that  what  seemed 
so  like  a  drop-curtain  the  night  before  was 
nothing  more  or  less  than  a  very  large 
patchwork  quilt,  suspended  on  a  line  across 
the  entire  attic,  from  the  other  side  of 
which  came  the  sounds  in  question.  It 
was  clear,  both  from  the  melody  and  the 
voice,  that  she  could  not  be.  a  servant  ;  and 
somewhat  curious  to  know  more  of  my  fair 
neighbor,  I  rose  gently,  and  slipping  on  my 
clothes,  approached  the  boundary  of  my 
territory  with  noiseless  step. 

A  kind  of  whistling  noise  interrupted 
every  now  and  then  the  lady's  song,  and  an 
occasional  outbreak  of  impatience  would 
burst  forth  in  the  middle  of  the  "Arrah, 
will  you  marry  me,  dear  Alley  Croker,"  by 
some  malediction  on  afl'  black  knot  "  or  a 
broken  string.  I  peeped  over  the  '"drop," 
and  beheld  the  figure  pf  a  young,  plump, 
and  pretty  girl,  busily  engaged  in  lacing 
her  stays — an  occupation  which  accounted 
equally  for  the  noise  of  the  rushing  stays 
lace  and  the  bit  of  peevishness!  had  heard. 
I  quite  forgot  how  inadvisable  was  the  in- 
dulgence of  my  curiosity  in  my  admiration 
of  my  fair  neighbor,  whose  buxom  figure, 
not  the  less  attractive  for  the  shortness  of 
her  drapery,  showed  itself  to  peculiar  ad- 
vantage as  she  bent  to  one  side  and  the 
other  in  her  efforts  to  fasten  the  imprac- 
ticable bodice.  A  mass  of  rich  brown  hair, 


on  which  the  sun  was  playing,  fell  overhei 
neck  and  on  her  shoulders,  and  half  con- 
cealed her  round,  well-turned  arms  as  they 
plied  their  busy  task. 

"  Well,  ain't  my  heai;t  broke  with  you 
entirely?"  exclaimed  she,  as  a  stubborn 
knot  stopped  all  further  progress.  At  this 
moment  the  cord,  on  which  through  inad- 
vertence I  had  leaned  somewhat  too  heav- 
ily, gave  way,  and  down  came  the  curtain 
with  a  squash  to  the  floor.  She  sprang 
back  with  a  bound,  and,  while  a  slight  but 
momentary  blush  flushed  her  cheek,  stared 
at  me  half  angrily,  and  then  cried  out, 
"Well,  I  hope  you  like  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  I  do,"  said  I,  readily  ;  "and 
who  wouldn't  that  saw  you  ?  " 

Whether  it  was  the  naivete  of  my  con- 
fession, or  my  youth,  or  both,  I  can't  well 
say,  but  she  laughed  heartily  at  my  speech, 
and  threw  herself  into  a  chair  to  indulge 
her  mirth. 

"So  we  were  neighbors,  it  seems,"  said  I. 

"And  if  we  were,"  said  she,  roguishly, 
"  I  think  it's  a  very  unceremonious  way 
you've  opened  the  acquaintance." 

"You  forget,  apparently,  I  haven't  left 
my  own  territory." 

"  Well,  I'm  sure  I  wish  you  would,  if 
you're  any  good  at  a  black  knot ;  my  heart 
and  my  nails  are  both  broke  with  one 
here." 

I  didn't  wait  for  any  more  formal  invi- 
tation, but  stepped  at  once  over  the  fron- 
tier, while  she,  rising  from  the  chair,  turn- 
ed her  back  toward  me,  as  with  her  finger 
she  directed  me  to  the  most  chaotic  assem- 
blage of  knots-,  twists,  loops,  and  entangle- 
ments, I  ever  beheld. 

"And  you're  Burke,  I  suppose,"  cried 
she,  as  I  commenced  my  labors. 

"Yes,  I'm  Burke." 

"  Well,  1  hope  you're  done  with  wildness 
by  this  time.  Uncle  Tony  tells  fine  tales 
of 'your  doings." 

"  Uncle  Tony  !  So  you're  Mr.  Basset's 
niece — is  that  so  ?  " 

"You  didn't  take  me  for  his  wife,  I 
hope,"  said  she,  again  bursting  out  into 
laughter. 

"In  truth,  I  never  thought  so  well  of 
him  as  to  suppose  it." 

"Well,  well,  I'm  sure  it's  little  I  expect- 
ed you  to  look  so  mild  and  so  quiet;  but 
you  needn't  pinch  me,  for  all  that.  Isn't 
your  name  Tom  ?" 

"Yes,  I  hope  you'll  always  call  me  so." 

"  Maybe  I  will.  Isn't  that  done  yet  ? — 
and  there's  the  milk  bell.  Uncle  will  be 
in  a  nice  passion  if  I'm  not  down  soon — 
cut  it — cut  it  at  once." 

"Now  do  be  patient  for  a  minute  or  two 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


299 


—it's  all  right  if  you  stay  quiet.  I'll  try 
my  teeth  on  it." 

"  Yes,  hut  you  needn't  try  your  lips 
too,"  said  she,  tartly. 

"Why,  it's  the  only  plan  to  get  your 
fingers  out  of  the  way.  I'm  sure  1  never 
was  so  puzzled  in  all  my  life." 

"Nothing  like  practice,  my  hoy,  noth- 
ing,''' cried  a  merry  voice  from  the  door  be- 
hind me,  half  choked  with  laughing,  while 
a  Hindered  anathema,  in  a  deeper  tone, 
followed.  I  looked  hack,  and  there  stood 
Bubbleton,  his  face  florid  with  laughter, 
endeavoring  to  hold  back  Mr.  Basset, 
whose  angry  look  and  flashing  eye.  there 
was  no  mistaking. 

•  {t  Mr.  Burke — Burke,  I  say — Nelly,  what 
does  this  mean?  How  came  this  young 
gentleman — " 

"As  to  that,"  said  I,  interrupting  him, 
and  my  blood  somewhat  chafed  by  his  man- 
ner, "this  piece  of  trumpery  tumbled 
down  when  I  leaned  my  arm  on  it.  I  had 
no  idea — " 

"No,  no  ;  to  be  sure  not," broke  in  Bub- 
bleton, in  an  ecstasy.  "The  thing  was 
delicious  ;  such  a  bit  of  stage  effect.  She 
was  there,  as  it  might  be,  combing  her  hair, 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  Tom  was  here, 
raving  about  absence,  and  eternal  separa-  | 
tion.  You  are  an  angry  father,  or  uncle-  all 
the  same  ;  and  I'm  Count  Neitztachenifz, 
the  old  friend  and  brother-officer  of  Tom's 
father.  Now,  let  Miss  Nelly — But  where 
is  she  ? — why,  she's  gone !  Eh,  and 
Basset  ?  Basset ! — why,  he's  gone  !  Come, 
Tom,  don't  you  go  too.  I  say,  my  boy, 
devilish  well  got  up  that.  You  ought  to 
have  had  a  white  satin  doublet  and  hose, 
slashed  with  pale  cherry  color  ribbons  to 
match,  small  hat  looped,  aigrette  and  white 
plume.  She  was  perfect— her  leg  and  foot 
were  three  certain  rounds  of  applause  from 
the  pit  and  gallery." 

"What  nonsense,"  said  I,  angrily  ;  "  we 
weren't  playing  a  comedy." 

"  Weren't  you  though  ?  well,  I'm  deuced 
sorry  for  it,  that's  all  ;  but  it  did  look  con- 
foundedly like  an  undress  rehearsal." 

"  Come,  come,  no  foolery,  I  beg.  I'm 
here  in  a  very  sad  plight,  and  this  piece  of 
nonsense  may  not  make  matters  any  better. 
Listen  to  me,  if  you  can,  patiently  for  five 
minutes,  and  give  me  your  advice." 

I  took  him  by  the  arm  as  I  spoke,  and 
leading  him  from  the  room,  where  I  saw 
that  everything  was  only  suggesting  some 
piece  of  scenic  effect,  and  in  as  few  words 
as  I  could  command,  explained  how  I  was 
circumstanced  ;  omitting,  of  course,  any 
detail  of  my  political  bias,  and  only  stated 
so  much  of  my  desires  as  implied  my  wish 


to  he  free  of  my  oontraci  with  Basset,  and 
at  liberty  to  dispose  of  myself  as  1  liked    D 

I'll!  lire. 

'•  1  see,"  cried  Bubbleton,  a-  I  finished  ; 

"  the  old  fox  has  tin.-  live    hundred  po 

of  yours." 

••  No,  1  didn't  sav  that  ;  1  only  mean — " 
'•  Well,     well,    it's    all    i  he  same.      If  he 

hasn't.  you  know  In'  ought." 

"No;  that's  not  essential  either." 

'•  No    matter,  he   would  if   he  could  ;  it 

just,  come-  to  the  same  thing,  and  you  only 

wish  to  gel  clear  out    of   his    hands   at    any 
cost.       Isn't  I  hat   it  ?  " 

•■  Exactlj  ;  yon  have  it  all  perfectly." 

"  Bless  your  heart,  hoy,  there's  nothing 
easier.  If  1  were  in  your  place,  1  should 
arrange  the  affair  in  less  Hum  a  week.  I'd 
have  tits — strong  fits — and  burn  all  the 
papers  in  the  office  during  the  paroxysm. 
I'd  make  a  pile  of  deeds,  leases,  bonds,  and 
settlements  in  the  hack  yard. 

"1  don't  fancy  your  plan  would  he  so 
successful  as  you  flatter  yourself,"  said  a 
dry,  husky  voice  from  behind:  "there's 
rather  a  stringent  law  for  refractory  ap- 
prentices, as  Mr.  Burke  may  learn."  We 
turned  round,  and  there  stood  Mr.  1'.., 
with  a  grin  of  most  diabolical  malignity  in 
his  by  no  means  pleasant  features.  "  At 
the  same  time,"  continued  he,  "your  sug- 
gestions are  of  infinite  value,  and  shall  be 
duly  appreciated  in  the  King's  Bench." 

"Eh— King's  Bench!  Lord  bless  you, 
don't  speak  of  it.  Mere  trifles — 1  just 
threw  them  out  as  good  hints.  1  had  fifty 
far  better  to  come.  There's  the  young  lady, 
now— to  be  sure,  he  has  started  that  notion 
himself,  so  I  must  not  pretend  it  was  mine; 
but  Miss  Nelly,  I  think,  Tom — " 

"  Mr.  Basset  is  well  aware,"  interrupted 
I,  "  that  I  am  only  desirous  to  be  free  and 
untrammeled--that  whatever  little  m< 
I  may  derive  from  my  family,  I'm  willing 
to  surrender  all,  short  of  actual  beggary,  to 
attain  this  object— that  I  intend  quitting 
Ireland  at  once.  If,  then,  he  consenl 
enter  into  an  arrangement  with  me.  let  it 
be  at  once,  and  on  the  spot.  I  have  no  de- 
sire, I  have  no  power,  to  force  htm  by  a 
threat,  in  case  of  refusal  ;  hut  I  hope  ho 
will  make  so  much  of  amend  to  one  oi 
whose  presenl  desolation  and  poverty  he  is 
not  altogether  innocent." 

"  There,  there,  that's  devilish  well  said  ; 
the  whole  thing  is  all  clear  before  me.  So 
come  along.  Basset,  you  and  I  will  set  tie  all 
this.  Have  you  got  a  private  room  where 
we  can  have  live  minutes'  chat  together? 
Tom,  wait  for  me  here." 

Before  either  of  us  could  consent  or  op- 
pose his  arrangement,  he  had  taken  Bae- 


300 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


set's  arm,  and  led  him  down-stairs,  while  I, 
in  a  flurry  of  opposing  and  conflicting  re- 
solves, sat  down  to  think  over  my  fortunes. 

Tired  at  length  with  waiting,  and  half 
suspecting  that  my  volatile  friend  had  for- 
gotten me  and  all  my  concerns,  I  descend- 
ed to  the  parlor  in  hopes  to  hear  something 
of  the  pending  negotiation.  At  the  head 
of  a  long,  narrow  table  sat  my  fair  acquain- 
tance, Miss  Nelly,  her  hair  braided  very 
modestly  at  each  side  of  her  pretty  face, 
which  had  now  assumed  an  almost  Quaker- 
ish propriety  of  expression.  She  was  busily 
engaged  in  distributing  tea  to  three  pale,  red- 
eyed,  emaciated  men,  whose  spongy-look- 
ing, threadbare  garments  bespoke  them  to 
be  attorney's  clerks  :  a  small  imp,  a  kind  of 
embryo  practitioner,  knelt  before  the  fire  in 
the  act  of  toasting  bread,  but  followed  with 
his  sharp  piercing  eyes  every  stir  in  the 
apartment,  and  seemed  to  watch  with  ma- 
licious pleasure  the  wry  faces  around,  when- 
ever any  undue  dilution  of  the  bohea,  or 
any  curtailment  of  the  blue  milk  pressed 
heavily  on  the  guests.  These  were  not 
exactly  the  circumstances  to  renew  my 
acquaintance  with  my  fair  neighbor,  had  I 
been  so  minded  ;  so,  having  declined  her 
offer  of  breakfast,  I  leaned  moodily  on  the 
chimney-piece,  my  anxiety  to  know  my  fate 
becoming  each  instant  more  painful.  Mean- 
while, not  a  word  was  spoken — a  sad, 
moody  silence,  unbroken  save  by  the  sounds 
of  eating,  pervaded  all.  when  suddenly  the 
door  of  the  front  parlor  was  flung  open, 
and  Bubbleton's  pleasant  voice  was  heard 
as  he  talked  away  unceasingly  ;  in  an  in- 
stant he  entered,  followed  by  Basset,  over 
whose  hard  countenance  a  shade  of  better 
nature  seemed  to  pass. 

"In  that  case,"  cried  the  captain,  "  I'm 
your  man,  not  that  I'm  anything  of  a  per- 
former at  breakfast  or  dinner ;  supper's 
rather  my  forte — an  odor  of  a  broiled  bone 
at  three  in  the  morning,  a  herring  smeared 
with  chetna  and  grilled  with  brandy,  two 
hundred  of  small  oysters,  a  few  hot  ones  to 
close  with,  a  glass  of  Seltzer  dashed  with 
Hollands  for  health,  and  then  any  number 
you  like  of  glasses  of  hot  brandy-and- water 
afterward  for  pleasure." 

While  Bubbleton  ran  on  in  this  fashion, 
he  had  broken  about  half  a  dozen  eggs  into 
the  slop  basin,  and  seasoning  the  mess  with 
pepper  and  vinegar,  was  busily  engaged  in 
illustrating  the  moderation  of  his  morning 
appetite. 

"Try  a  thing  like  this,  Tom,"  cried  he, 
not  defining  how  it  was  to  be  effected  under 
the  circumstances,  while  he  added  in  a 
whisper,  "your  affair's  all  right." 

These  few  words  brought  courage  to  my 


heart ;  and.  I  ventured  to  begin  the  break- 
fast thai  had  lain  untasted  before  me. 

"  1  think,  Mr.  Burke,"  said  Basset,  as 
soon  as  he  recovered  from  the  surprise  Bub- 
bleton's mode  of  breakfasting  had  excited 
— "  I  think  and  trust  that  all  has  been  ar- 
ranged to  your  satisfaction."  Then  turn- 
ing to  the  clerks,  who  ate  away  without 
even  lifting  their  heads,  "  Mr.  Muggridge, 
you  will  bo  late  at  the  Master's  Office  ; 
Jones,  take  that  parcel  to  Hennet ;  Kit, 
carry  my  bag  up  to  the  Courts." 

Miss  Nelly  did  not  wait  for  the  part  des- 
tined for  her,  but  with  a  demure  face  rose 
from  -the  table  and  left  the  room,  giving 
me,  however,  one  sly  glance  as  she  passed 
my  chair,  that  I  remembered  for  many  a 
day  after. 

"  You'll  excuse  me,  gentlemen,  if  I  am 
pressed  for  time  this  morning — a  very  par- 
ticular case  comes  on  in  the  Common 
Pleas." 

"  Never  speak  of  it,  my  dear  fellow," 
said  Bubbleton,  who  had  just  addressed 
himself  to  a  round  of  spiced  beef,  "busi- 
ness has  its  calls  just  as  pleasure  has,  ay, 
and  appetite  too.  That  would  make  an 
excellent  bit  of  supper,  with  some  mulled 
port,  after  a  few  rubbers  of  shorts." 

Basset  paid  little  attention  to  this  speech, 
but,  turning  to  me,  continued  : 

"■  You  mentioned  your  intention  of  leav- 
ing Ireland,  I  think  ;  might  I  ask  where 
you  have  decided  on — from  where  ?  Is  it 
possible  that  your  brother — " 

"  My  brother's  anxieties  on  my  account, 
Mr.  Basset,  can  scarcely  be  very  poignant,, 
and  deserve  no  particular  respect  or  atten- 
tion at  my  hands.  I  suppose  that  this 
morning  has  concluded  all  necessary  in- 
tercourse between  us  ;  and  if  you  have  sat- 
isfied my  friend  Captain  Bubbleton — " 

"Perfectly,  perfectly  —  nnothcr  cup  of 
tea,  if  you  please — yes,  nothing  could  be 
more  gratifying  than  Mr.  Basset's  conduct 
— you  are  merely  to  sign  the  receipt  for  the 
legacy,  and  he  hands  you  over  one  hundred 
pounds  ;  isn't  that  it  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  quite  correct ;  my  bill  for  one 
hundred  at  three  months." 

"  That's  what  I  mean  ;  but  surely 
you're  not  done  breakfast — why,  Tom, 
you've  eaten  nothing.  I  have  been  pick- 
ing away  this  half  hour,  just  to  encourage 
you  a  bit.  Well,  well,  I  lunch  in  Stephen's 
green,  at  three,  so  here  goes." 

Mr.  Basset  now  took  from  his  pocket- 
book  some  papers,  which,  having  glanced 
I'.is  eye  over,  he  handed  to  me. 

"  This  is  a  kind  of  acknowledgment,  Mr. 
Burke,  for  the  receipt  of  a  legacy  to  which 
you  could  be  only  entitled  on  a'  tabling  your 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


301 


majority  ;  here  are  your  indentures  to  me, 
and  this  is  my  acceptance  Tor  one  hundred 
pounds." 

"I  am.  content,"  said   I.  eagerly, 
seized   the  pen.     The  thought  of  my  lib- 
erty alone  filled    my  mind,  and    I   cared 
lit ili   for  the  conditions,  provided  1  secured 
that. 

Basset  proffered  his  hand  ;  I  was  in  no 
humor  to  reject  anything  thai  oven  simu- 
lated cordiality  ;  I  shook  it  heartily.  Bub- 
bleton  followed  my  example,  and,  having 
pledged  himself  to  see  more  of  his  pleas- 
ant acquaintance,  thrust  his  arm  through 
mine,  and  bustled  out,  adding,  in  a  tunc 
loud  enough  to  be  overheard,  "  Made  a 
capital  fight  of  it — told  him  you  were  a 
Defender,  a  United  Irishman,  a  Peep-o'- 
day  Boy,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing — dev- 
ilish glad  to  get  rid  of  you,  even  on  Miss 
Nelly's  account."  And  so  he  rattled  away 
without  ceasing,  until  we  found  ourselves 
at  the  George's-street  Barracks,  my  preoc- 
cupation of  mind  preventing  my  even  hav- 
ing remarked  what  way  we  came. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

THE   CAPTAIN'S    QUARTERS. 

I  was  not  sorry  to  find  that  Miss  Bubble- 
ton  did  not  respond  to  the  noisy  summons 
of  the  captain,  as  he  flourished  about  from 
one  room  to  the  other,  making  the  quarters 
echo  to  the  sweet  name  of  "Anna  Maria.'' 
"Saladin,"  "Grimes,"  "Peter,"  were 
also  shouted  out  unsuccessfully  ;  and  with  a 
fierce  menace  against  various  grooms  of  the 
chambers,  waiting-men,  and  lackeys,  who 
happily  were  still  unborn,  Bubbleton  flung 
himself  into  a  seat,  and  began  to  conjec- 
ture what  had  become  of  the  inhabitants. 

"She's  paying  a  morning  call — gone  to 
see  the  Duchess — that's  it,  or  perhaps  she's 
looking  over  that  suit  of  pearls  I  bought 
yesterday  at  Gallon's — pretty  baubles,  but 
deai-  at  eight  hundred  pounds.  Never 
mind,  what's  money  for,  eh,  Tom  ?  " 

As  he  looked  at  me  for  a  reply,  I  .drew  my 
chair  closer  toward  him,  and.  assuming  as 
much  of  importance  as  my  manner  could 
command,  I  besought  his  attention  for  a 
moment.  Hitherto,  partly  from  my  own 
indecision,  partly  from  his  Highly  and  vola- 
tile bearing,  I  never  had  an  opportunity 
either  to  explain  my  real  position  or  my 
political  sentiments,  much  less  my  inten- 
tions for  the  future.  The  moment  had  at 
length  arrived,  and  I  resolved  to  profit  by 
it ;  and,  in  as  few  words  as  I  was  able,  gave 


a  brief  narrative  of  my  life,  from  the  hour 
of  my  father's  death  to  the  day  in  which  I 
fell  into  his  own  bands  in  Dublin,  only 
omitting  Buch  portions  as  might,  by  the 
mention  of  name-,  compron  •  -  con- 

cerned. 

Nothing  could  possibly  be  more  i 
tive  than  he  was  during  the  enl  ire  detail. 
He  leaned  his  head  on  his  hand,  and  lis- 
tened with  eager  curiosity  to  all  my  scrapes 
and  difficulties,  occasionally  nodding  in 
assent,  and  now  e\  incing  b]  ' 
air  his  desire  to  learn  further;  and  when 

I    ;it    last    wound    up  by  avo>.  0  /.    long- 

cherished  desire  to  enter  tl  i  ser- 

vice, he  sal  perfectly  silent,  and  .-Mined  to 
reflect  gravely  on  the  whole. 

"I  say,  Tom,"  said  he,  .-u  length,  as  he 
stared  me  full  in  the  face,  and  laid  his  band 
impressively  on  my  knee,  "there's  good 
stuff  in  that — excellent  stuff  !  depend 
upon  it ! " 

"Good  stuff!  what  do  you  mean  ?"  said 
I,  in  amazement. 

"I  mean,"  replied  he,  "  there's  bone  in 
it,  sinew  in  it,  substance  in  it  —  there  are 
some  admirable  situations  too.  How  l-ul- 
ham  would  come  out  in  Tony  i' ■- 
brown  shorts,  white  stockings,  high  shoes 
and  buckles — his  own  verve  nunc;  and 
there's  that  little  thing  Miss  Booth,  for 
Nelly,  give  her  a  couple  of  songs — ballad  airs 
take  best ;  Williams  should  be  Barton;  a 
devilish  fine  villain  in  coarse  parts,  Wil- 
liams. I  think  I  see  him  stealing  along  by 
the  flats  with  his  soldiers  to  the  attack. 
Then  the  second  act  should  open — interior 
of  hut — peasants  round  a  table — eating  al- 
ways successful  on  the  stage — nothing  like 
seeing  a  fat  fellow  bolting  hard  eggs,  and 
blustering  out  unpronounceable  jokes  over 
a  flagon  of  colored  water.  You.  by  right, 
should  have  your  own  part — splendid  thing 
— devilish  fine,  your  sensations  when  the 
cabin  was  on  fire,  and  the  fellow-;  were 
prodding  about  with  their  bayonets  to  dis- 
cover you." 

"And  who's  to  perform  Captain  Bub- 
bleton?" asked  1,  venturing  for  once  to 
humor  his  absurdity. 

"Eh  ?— oh  !  there's  not!  ing  for  me,  no 
marked  feature,  nothing  strong,  nothing 
characteristic.  That  has  been  through  life 
my  greatest,  my  very  highest  ambition — 
that  no  man  should  ever  iy  anything 

in  my  manner,  my  dress,  or  my  style  of 
conversation,  thai  1  was  not  John  Nokes, 
or  Peter  Styles.  You'll  meet  me  at  a  din- 
ner-party, Tom,  you'll  converse  with  me, 
drink  with  me,  we'll  sil  the  evening  to- 
gether, grow  intimate — perhaps  \ou'll  bor- 
row fifty  pounds  of  me — and  yet  I'd  wager 


302 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


another,  you'd  never  guess  that  I  rode  a 
hippopotamus  across  the  Ganges  after  tiffin 
one  day,  to  pay  my  respects  to  the  Gover- 
nor-General. That,  let  me  tell  you,  Tom,  is 
the  very  proudest  boast  a  man  can  make. 
Do  you  see  that  scar  2  It  looks  nothing 
now — that  was  a  bite  from  a  ferocious  boa; 
the  villain  got  into  my  room  before  break- 
fast, he  had  eaten  my  chokadar — a  fellow  I 
was  very  fond  of—  " 

"Ah,  I  remember  you  mentioned  that 
to  me.  And  now  to  come  back  to  my  dull 
story,  to  which,  I  assure  you,  however  dra- 
matic you  may  deem  it,  I'd  prefer  adding 
an  act  or  so  before  it  comes  before  the 
world.     I  intend  to  leave  this  to-morrow. " 

"  No,  no,  you  mustn't  think  of  it  yet 
awhile.  Why,  my  dear  fellow,  you've  a 
hundred  pounds — only  think  of  that  ! 
twenty  will  bring  you  to  Paris,  less  if  you 
choose.  I  once  traveled  from  Glugclamuck 
to  the  Ghauts  of  Bunderamud  for  half  a 
rupee — put  my  elephants  on  three  biscuits 
a  day — explained  to  them  in  JTindostanee — 
a  most  expressive  language — -that  our  pro- 
visions had  fallen  short — that  on  our  arri- 
val all  arrears  of  grub  should  be  made  up. 
They  tossed  up  their  trunks  thus  in  token  of 
assent,  and  on  we  marched.  Well,  when 
we  came  to  Helgie,  there  was  no  water —  " 

"  Very  true,"  interrupted  I,  half  in 
despair  at  the  torrent  of  story-telling  I  had 
got  involved  in  ;  "  but  you  forget  I  have 
neither  elephants,  nor  camels,  nor  coolies, 
nor  chokadars — I'm  a  mere  adventurer 
with,  except  yourself,  not  a  friend  in  the 
world." 

"Then  why  not  join  us?"  cried  the 
ever-ready  Captain.  "  We  are  to  have  our 
orders  for  foreign  service  in  a  few  weeks — 
you've  only  to  volunteer ;  you've  money 
enough  to  buy  your  kit.  When  you're 
fairly  in,  it's  only  writing  to  your  brother. 
Besides,  something  always  turns  up  ;  that's 
my  philosophy.  I  rarely  want  anything 
I  don't  find  means  to  obtain,  somehow  or 
other." 

"No,"  said  I,  resolutely,  "I  will  never 
join  the  service  of  a  country  which  has 
inflicted  such  foul  wrong  on  my  native 
land." 

"  All  stuff  and  nonsense  !  "  cried  Bubble- 
ton.  "Who  cares  the  deuce  of  clubs  about 
politics  ?  When  you're  my  age,  you'll  find 
that  if  you're  not  making  something  of 
politics,  they'll  make  very  little  of  you. 
I'd  as  soon  sell  figs  for  my  grocer,  or  snuff 
for  my  tobacconist,  as  I'd  bother  my  head 
governing  the  kingdom  for  Hilly  Pitt  ;  he's 
paid  for  it  — that's  his  business,  not  mine. 
.  M  i,  no,  my  boy,  join  us— you  shall  be 
'Burke  of  Ours" — we'll  have    a  glorious 


campaign  among  the  Yankees.  I'll  teach 
you  the  Seifeca  language,  and  we'll  have  a 
ramble  through  the  Indian  settlements. 
Meanwhile,  you  dine  to-day  at  the  mess  : 
to-morrow,  we  pic-nic  at  the  Dargle  ;  next 
day,  we — -what  the  deuce  is  next  day  to 
be  ? — oh,  yes  !  next  day  we  all  dine  with 
you.  Nothing  stiff  or  formal — a  snug, 
quiet  thing  for  sixteen — I'll  manage  it  all." 

Here  was  an  argument  there  was  no  re- 
sisting, so  I  complied  at  once,  comforting 
myself  with  a  silent  vow,  come  what  might, 
I'd  leave  Ireland  the  day  after  my  dinner- 
party. 

Under  whatever  guise,  with  what  history 
of  my  rank,  wealth,  and  family  influence, 
Bubbleton  thought  proper  to  present  me  to 
his  brother  officers,  I  cannot  say  ;  but  noth- 
ing could  possibly  be  more  kind, or  even  more 
cordial,  than  their  reception  of  me  ;  and 
although  I  had  some  difficulty  in  replying 
to  questions  put  under  mistaken  notions  of 
my  position  and  intentions,  I  readily  fol- 
lowed, as  far  as  I  "was  able;  the  line  sug- 
gested by  my  imaginative  friend,  whose 
representations,  I  suspected,  would  be 
received  with  a  suitable  limitation  by  his 
old  associates. 

There  is,  perhaps,  no  species  of  society 
so  striking  and  so  captivating  to  the  young 
man  entering  on  life  as  that  of  a  military 
mess.  The  easy,  well-bred  intimacy,  that 
never  degenerates  into  undue  familiarity — 
the  good-humored,  playful  raillery,  that 
never  verges  on  coarseness  or  severity — the 
happy  blending  of  old  men's  wisdom  and 
young  men's  buoyancy — are  all  very  at- 
tractive features  of  social  intercourse,  even 
independently  of  the  stronger  interest  that 
invests  the  companionship  of  men  whose 
career  is  arms.  I  felt  this,  and  enjoyed  it, 
too,  not  the  less  pleasantly  that  I  discov- 
ered no  evidence  of  that  violent  partisan 
feeling  I  had  been  led  to  believe  was  the 
distinguishing  mark  of  the  Boyalist  sol- 
dier. If,  by  chance,  any  allusion  was 
made  to  the  troubles  of  the  period,  it  was 
invariably  done  rather  in  a  tone  of  respect 
for  mistaken  and  ill-directed  political  views, 
than  in  reprehension  of  disloyalty  and 
rebellion  ;  and  when  I  heard  the  dispas- 
sionate opinions,  and  listened  to  the  mild 
counsels  of  these  men,  whom  I  had  always 
believed  to  be  the  veriest  tyrants  and 
oppressors,  I  could  scarcely  credit  my  own 
senses,  so  utterly  opposed  were  my  impres- 
sions and  my  experience.  One  only  of  the 
party  evinced  an  opposite  feeling.  He  was 
a  pale,  thin,  rather  handsome  man,  of 
about  five-and-twenty,  who  had  lately 
joined  them  from  a  dragoon  regiment, 
and  who,  by  sundry!  ittle' innuendoes,  was 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OUL'S:' 


303 


ever  bringing  uppermost  the  preference  he 
evinced  for  his  former  service,  and  his 
anient  desire  to  be  back  again  in  the  cav- 
alry. 

Captain  Montague  Crofts  was,  indeed, 
the  only  exception  1  witnessed  to  the 
almost  brotherly  feeling  that  prevailed  in 
the  Forty-fifth.  Instead  of  identifying 
himself  with  thehabitsand  opinions  of  his 
brother  officers,  he  held  himself  studiously 
apart.  Regarding  Ins  slay  in  the  regiment 
like  a  period  of  probation,  he  seemed 
resolved  to  form  neither  intimacy  nor 
friendships,  but  to  wait  patiently  for  tin1 
time  of  his  leaving  (lie  corps  to  emancipate 
himself  from  a  society  below  bis  caste. 

The  cold,  repulsive,  steady  stare,  the 
scarcely-bowed  head,  the  impassive  silence 
with  which  he  heard  the  words  of  Bubble- 
ton's  fntroduction  of  me,  formed  a  strong 
contrast  with  the  warm  cordiality  of  the 
others  ;  and  though  at  the  time  little  dis- 
posed to  criticise  the  manner  of  any  one, 
and  still  less  to  be  dissatisfied  with  any- 
thing, I  conceived  from  the  moment  a 
dislike  to  Captain  Crofts,  which  I  felt  to 
increase  with  every  minute  I  spent  in  his 
company.  The  first  occasion,  which  sug- 
gested this  dislike  on  my  part  was,  from 
observing  that  while  Bubbleton — whose 
historical  accuracy,  or  blind  adherence  to 
reality,  no  one  in  the  corps  thought  of  re- 
quiring— narrated  some  of  his  incredible 
adventures,  Crofts,  far  from  joining  in  the 
harmless  mirth  which  such  tales  created, 
invariably  took  delight  in  questioning  and 
cross-questioning  the  worthy  captain,  quot- 
ing him  against  himself,  and  playing  off  a 
hundred  tricks,  which,  however  smart  and 
witty  in  a  law  court,  are  downright  rude- 
ness when  practiced  in  society.  Bubble- 
ton,  it  is  true,  saw  nothing  in  all  this  save 
the  natural  interest  of  a  good  listener — 
but  the  others  did  ;  and  it  was  quite  clear 
to  me,  that  while  one  was  the  greatest 
favorite  in  the  regiment,  the  other  had  not 
a  single  friend  amongst  them.  To  me, 
Crofts  manifested  the  most  perfect  indif- 
ference— not  ever  mixing  himself  in  any 
conversation  in  which  I  bore  a  part.  He 
rarely  turned  his  head  toward  that  part  of 
I  he  fable  at  which  I  sat ;  and  by  an  air  of 
haughty  superciliousness  gave  me  plainly  to 
understand  that  our  acquaintance,  though 
confessedly  begun,  was  to  proceed  no  fur- 
ther. I  cannot  say  how  happy  1  felt  to 
learn  that  one  I  had  so  much  cause  to  dis- 
like was  a  violent  aristocrat,  an  ultra- Tory 
— a  most  uncompromising  denouncer  of 
the  Irish  Liberal  party,  and  an  out-and- 
out  advocate  of  severe  and  harsh  measures 
toward  the  people.     He   never  missed  an 


opportunity  for  the  enunciation  of  such 
doctrines,  which,  whatever  might  be  fch< 
opinions  of  the  lit tern  re,  there 

time    I   speak  of,  Q0  -mall    risk   i> 

ing  •  and  i  Ins  immunity  did  < '.  i 
to  his  heart 'a  content. 

Slighl  a-  these  f<  w  reminia  ence  i  of  the 
ire,  they  are  the  called-up  tnemoi 
qoI  i"  be  forgotten  bj  mi .     For  now, 
what   with  my  habitual   ind  on  the 

one  hand,  and  Bubbleton's  solicitations  on 
the   other,    1    continued    to   linger  on   in 
Dublin,  leading  the  careless,  easy  life  •>) 
those  about  me,  joining  in  all  the  plots  for 
amusemeni  which  the  capital  afforded, and 
mixing  in  every  sot  :.ety  to  which  my  mili- 
tary  friends    had   access.      Slender  as  were 
my  resources,  they  sufficed,  in  the  < 
all  who  knew   not  their  limit,   to  appear 
abundant.      Crofts  was  the  only   rich   man 
in  the    regiment  ;   and    my  willing): 
enter  into  every  scheme  of  pleasun  .  r< 
less  of  cost,  impressed  them  all  with   the 
notion  that  Bubbleton  for  once  was  right, 
and   that    "  Burke   was   a   kind   of 
country  Croesus,"  invaluable  to  the    regi- 
ment. 

Week  after  week  rolled  on,  and  still  did 
I  find  myself  a  denizen  of  Greorgi 
The  silly  routine  of  the  barrack  life  filled 
all  my  thoughts,  save  when  the  waning 
condition  of  my  purse  would  momentarily 
turn  them  toward  the  future;  but  these 
moments  of  reflection  came  but  seldom,  and 
at  last  came  not  at  all.  It  was  autumn — I  he 
town  almost  divested  of  its  inhabitants,  at 
least  of  all  who  could  leave  it;  and  along 
the  parched,  sunburnt  streets  a  stray  jingle 
or  a  noddy  was  rarely  seen  to  pass.  The 
squares,  so  lately  crowded  with  equipages 
and  cavalcades  of  horsemen,  were  silent 
and  deserted  ;  the  closed  shutters  of  every 
house,  and  the  grass-grown  steps,  vouched 
for  the  absence  of  the  owners.  The  same 
dreamy  lethargy  that  seemed  to  rest  over 
the  deserted  city  appeared  to  pervade  i 
thing;  and  save  a  certain  subdued  activity 
among  the  officials  of  the  Castle— a  kind  of 
ground-swell  movement  that  boded  some- 
thing important— there  was  nothing  stir- 
ring. The  great  measure  of  the  "  Union, M 
which  had  been  carried  on  the  nighl  of  the 
riots,  had,  however,  annihilated  the  hopes 
of  the  Irish  Liberal  party  :  and  many  wdio 
once  had  taken  a  leading  pan  in  politics 
had  now  deserted  public  life  forever. 

They  with  whom  1  associated  cared  but 
little  for  these  things.  There  were  but 
two  or  three  Irish  in  the  regiment,  and 
they  had  long  since  losl  all  their  nation- 
ality in  the  wear  and  tear  of  the  service; 
so  that  I  heard  nothing  of  what  occupied 


304 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


the  public  mind,  and   lived  on  in  the  very 
midst  of  the  threatening  hurricane,  in  a 

calm  as  deep  as  death  itself. 

I  had  seen  neither  Barton  nor  "Basset 
since  the  day  of  my  leave-taking  ;  and, 
stranger  still,  never  could  meet  with  Darby, 
who  seemed  to  have  deserted  Dublin.  The 
wreck  of  the  party  he  belonged  to  seemed 
now  effectually  accomplished,  and  the  pros- 
pect of  Irish  independence  was  lost,  as  it 
seemed,  forever. 

I  was  sitting  one  evening  in  the  window 
of  Bubbleton's  quarters,  thinking  over 
these  things,  not  without  self-reproach  for 
the  life  I  was  leading,  so  utterly  adverse  to 
the  principles  I  had  laid  down  for  my 
guidance.  I  thought  of  poor  I)e  Meudon, 
and  all  his  ambitions  dreams  for  my  suc- 
cess, and  I  felt  my  cheek  flush  with  shame 
for  my  base  desertion  of  the  cause  to 
which,  with  his  dying  breath,  he  devoted 
me.  I  brought  up  in  memory  those  happy 
evenings,  as  we  wandered'  through  the 
fields,  talking  over  the  glorious  campaigns 
of  Italy,  or  speculating  on  the  mighty 
changes  we  believed  yet  before  us  ;  and 
then  I  thought  of  the  reckless  orgies  in 
which  my  present  life  was  passed.  I  re- 
membered how  his  full  voice  would  falter 
when  one  great  name  fell  from  his  lips  ; 
and  with  what  reverence  he  touched  his 
chapeau  as  the  word  "  Bonaparte  "  escaped 
from  him  !  And  how  my  heart  thrilled  to 
think  of  an  enthusiasm  that  could  light  up 
the  dying  embers  of  a  broken  heart,  and 
make  it  flash  out  in  vivid  brilliancy  once 
more  !  and  longed  to  feel  as  he  did. 

For  the  first  time  for  some  weeks  I  found 
myself  alone.  Bubbleton  was  on  guard  ; 
and  though  I  had  promised  to  join  him  at 
supper,  I  lingered  at  home,  to  think  and 
ponder  over  the  past.  I  scarcely  dared  to 
face  the  future.  It  was  growing  dusky. 
The  rich  golden  arch  of  an  autumn  moon 
could  be  seen  through  the  hazy  mist  of 
that  half  frost  which  is  at  this  season  the 
sure  harbinger  of  a  hot  day  on  the  morrow. 
The  street  noises  had  gradually  died  away, 
and,  save  the  distant  sound  of  a  ballad 
singer,  whose  mournful  cadence  fell  sadly 
on  the  ear,  I  heard  nothing. 

Without  perceiving  it,  I  found  myself 
listening  to  the  doggerel  of  the  minstrel, 
who,  like  most  of  her  fellows  of  the  period, 
was  celebrating  the  means  that  had  been 
used  by  Government  to  carry  their  favor- 
ite measure — the  union  with  England. 
There  was,  indeed,  very  little  to"  charm 
the  ear  or  win  the  sense,  in  either 
the  accent  or  the  sentiment  of  the  melo'dy  ; 
yet  somehow  she  had  contrived  to  colled  a 
pretty  tolerable  audience,  who  moved  slow- 


ly along  with  her  down  the  street,  and 
evinced  by  many  an  outburst  of  enthusiasm 
how  thoroughly  they  relished  the  pointed 
allusions  of  the  verse,  and  how  completely 
they  enjoyed  the  dull  satire  of  the  song. 

As  they  approached  the  barracks,  the 
procession  came  to  a  halt,  probably  deem- 
ing that  so  valuable  a  lesson  should  not  be 
lost  to  his  Majesty's  service  ;  and,  forming 
into  a  circle  round  the  singer,  a  silence  was 
commanded,  when,  with  that  quavering 
articulation  so  characteristic  of  the  tribe, 
and  that  strange  quality  of  voice  that  seems 
to  alternate  between  a  high  treble  and  a 
deep  bass,  the  lady  began  : 

"  Don't  be  crowd  in'  an  me  that  away. 
There  it  is  now — ye're  tearin'  the  cloak  off 
the  back  o'  me  !  Divil  receave  the  note  I'll 
sing,  if  ye  don't  behave  !  And  look  at,  his 
honor  up  there,  with  a  tenpenny  bit  in  the 
heel  of  Ids  fist  for  me.  The  Lord  reward 
your  purty  face — 'tis  yourself  has  the  darlin' 
blue  eyes  !  Bad  ecran  to  yez,  ye  blaggards 
— look  at  my.clegant  bonnet  the  way  you've 
made  it !  " 

"  Arrah  !  rise  the  tune,  and  don't  be 
blarneying  the  young  gentleman,-'  said  a 
voice  from  the  crowd  ;  and  then  added,  in 
a  lower  but  very  audible  tone,  "  them  chaps 
hasn't  a  farthin'  beyond  their  pay — three 
and  ninepence  a  day,  and  find  themselves 
in  pipeclay  ! " 

A  rude '  laugh  followed  this  insolent 
speech  ;  and  the  ballad-singer,  whose  delay 
had  only  been  a  ruse  to  attract  a  sufficient 
auditory,  then  began  to  a  very  well-known 
air — 

"  Come  hither,  M.P.'c,  and  I'll  tell 

My  advice,  and  I'm  sure  you'll  not  mock  it: 
Whoe'er  has  a  country  to  sell, 

Need  never  want  gold  in  his  pocket. 
Your  brother  a  bishop  shall  be — 

Yourself — if  you  only  will  make  a 
Voice  in  our  ma-jo-rity — 
We'il  make  you  chief  judge  in  Jamaica. 

Tol,  loi  de  rol,  tol  de  rol  lay." 

The  mob-chorus  here  broke  in,  and  con- 
tinued with  such  hearty  enthusiasm,  that 
I  lost  the  entire  of  the  next  verse  in  the 
tumult. 

"  Your  father,  they  say,  is  an  ass, 

And  your  mother,  not  noted  for  knowledge; 
But  he'll  do  very  well  at  Madras, 

And  she  shall  be  provost  of  college. 
Your  aunt,  lady's-maid  to  the  queen; 
And  Bill,  if  he'll  give  up  his  rakin', 
Ami  not  drunk  in  day-time  be  seen, 
I'll  make  him  a  rosy  archdeacon. 

Tol,  lol  de  rol,  tol  de  rol  lay 

'  A  jollier  set  ne'er  was  seen. 

Than  you'll  be,  when  freed  from  your  callin' 
With  an  empty  house  in  College  green— 
What  an  elegant  place  to  play  ball  in. 


ECTHOTYPE    CO      NY 


ONE  GKVNCE   MORE   I   CAUGHT   OF   HIS   FIGURE   AS   WE   STOOD   OUT   TO   SEA  ;    HE  WAS   KNEELING 
ON   THE   BEACH.    BAREHEADED.    AS    IF   IN    PRAYER.       (P.   313.) 


TOM  BURKE   OF  -OIKS. 


305 


Ould  Foster  stand  by  with  Ins  mace, 
He'll  do  mighty  well  for  a  marker; 
John  Toler—  •" 

"Here's  the  polia  !  "  said  a  gruff  voice 
from  the  crowd  ;  and  (Ik;  word  was  repell- 
ed from  mouth  to  mouth  in  everj  accent 
of  fear  and  dread,  while  in  an  instant  all 
took  to  flight,  some  dashing  down  obscure 
limes  and  narrow  alleys,  others  running 
straight  onward  toward  Dame  .street,  bul 
all  showing  the  evident  apprehension  they 
felt  at  the  approach  of  these  dreaded 
officials.  The  ballad-singer  alone  did  not 
move.  Whether  too  old  or  too  infirm  to 
trust  to  speed,  or  too  mueh  terrific  I  to  ruu, 
I  know  not;  but  there  she  stood,  the  last 
cadence  of  her  soug  still  dying  on  her  lips, 
while  the  clattering  sounds  of  men  advanc- 
ing rapidly  were  heard  in  the  distant  street. 

I  know  not  why,  some  strange  momen- 
tary impulse,  half  pity,  hall  caprice,  moved 
me  to  her  rescue,  and  I  called  out  to  the 
sentry,  "  Let  that  woman  pass  in  !  "  She 
heard  the  words,  and  with  an  activity 
greater  than  I  could  have  expected,  sprang 
into  the  barrack-yard,  while  the  police 
passed  eagerly  on  m  vain  pursuit  of  their 
victims. 

I  remained  motionless  in  the  window- 
seat,  watching  the  now  silent  street,  when 
a  gentle  tap  came  to  my  door.  I  opened 
it,  and  there  stood  the  figure  of  the  ballad- 
singer,  her  ragged'  cloak  gathered  closely 
across  her  face  with  one  hand,  while  with 
the  other  she  held  the  bundle  of  printed 
songs,  her  only  stock  in  trade. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


THE   QUARREL. 


While  I  stood  gazing  at  the  uncouth 
and  ragged  figure  before  me,  she  pushed 
rudely  past,  and  shutting  the  door  behind 
her,  asked,  in  a  low  whisper,  "Are  ye 
alone  ?  "  and  then,  without  waiting  for  a 
reply,  threw  back  the  tattered  bonnet  that 
covered  her  head,  and,  removing  a  wig  of 
long  black  hair,  stared  steadfastly  at  me. 

"  Do  you  know  me  now  ?"  said  the  hag, 
in  a  voice  of  almost  menacing  eagerness. 

"What  I"  cried  I,  in  amazement,  "it 
surely  cannot  be — Darby,  is  this  really 
you  ?  " 

"  Ye  may  well  say  it,*'  replied  he,  bitter- 
ly. "  Ye  had  time  enough  to  forget  me 
since  we  met  last ;  and  'tis  thinking  twice 
your  grand  friends  the  officers  would  be, 
before  they'd  put  their  necks  where  mine 
is  now  to  see  you.  Eead  that" — as  he 
vol.  i. — 20 


spoke,  he  threw  a  ragged  and  torn  pi< 
printed  paper  on  i he  table  ••  read  thai  ; 
and  you'll  see  there's  five  hundred  pounds 
of  blood-money  to  the  man  thai  takes  me. 
Ay,  and  here  I  stand  this  mimt  in  the 
king's  barrack,  and  walked  fifty-four  miles 
this  blessed  day  jusl  to  »ee  yon  and  speak 

to  you  nner  inure.       \\  ell,    \  ell  "—  lie  turn- 
ed away  his   head  while   he  said  thi 
wiping  a  starting  tear  from  his  re 

he  :idded,   "  Master  Tom,  *ti-  myself  wonin 
■  b'li<  ve  ye  done  it." 

"  Did  whal  ?"  said  I,  i  agerly  ;  "  what 
have  I  ever  done  thai  you  should  charge 
me  thus  ?  " 

Bul  Darby  heard  me  not  ;  his  eyes  were 
fixed  on  vacancy,  and  his  lips  moved  rap- 
idly as  though  he  w<  re  spei  i  him- 
self. "Ay,"  said  he,  half  aloud,  "true 
enough,  'tis  the  gentlemen  thai 
us  always— never  came  good  of  the 
where  they  took  a  part.  Bul  you  '* — here 
he  turned  full  round,  and  grasping  my 
arm,  spoke  directly  to  me — "you  that  I 
loved  better  than  my  own  kith  and  kin, 
that  I  thought  would-,  one  day  be  a  pride 
and  glory  to  us  all — you  that  I  brought 
over  myself  to  the  cause — " 

"And  when  have  I  deserted — when  have 
I  betrayed  it  ?  " 

"  When  did  you  desert  it  ?"  repeated  he, 
in  a  tone  of  mocking  irony.  "Tell  me 
the  day  and  hour  ye  came  here— tell  me 
the  first  time  ye  sal  down  among  the  red 
butchers  of  King  George,  and  1*11  answer 
ye  that.  Is  it  here  you  ought  to  be  ?  Is 
this  the  home  for  him  that  has  a  heart  for 
Ireland  ?  I  never  said  you  betrayed  us ; 
others  said  it — but  I  stood  to  it,  ye  never 
did  that.  But  what  does.it signify  ?  "Tis 
no  wonder  ye  left  us  ;  we  were  poor  and 
humble  people,  we  had  nothing  at  heart 
but  the  good  cause — " 

"Stop!"    cried    I,    maddened   by 
taunt,  "what -could  I  have  done  ?     Where 
was  my  place  ?  " 

"  Don't  ask  me.  If  your  own  heart 
doesn't  teach  ye,  how  can  I  ?  But  if 6 
over  now — the  day  is  gone,  and  I  must 
take  to  the  road  again.  My  h<  art  is  light- 
er since  I  seen  you,  and  it  will  be  1L 
again  when  I  give  you  this  warnin' — God 
knows  if  you'll  mind  it.  Von  think  your- 
self safe  now  since  you  joined  the  sodgers— 
you  think  they  trust  you,  and  that  Bar- 
ton's eye 'isn't  on  ye  still — there  isn'i  a 
a  word  you  say  isn't  noted  down — not 
a  man  you  spake  to  isn't  watched  ! 
You  don't  know  it,  but  I  know  it.  There's 
more  go  to  the  gallows  in  Ir  rtheil 

wine,  than  with  the  pike  in  their  hands. 
Take  care  of  your  friends,  I  say. " 


SOQ 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


"You  wrong  them,  Darby,  and  you 
wrong  ire.  Never  have  I  heard  from  one 
here  a  single  word  thai  could  offend  the 
proudest  heart  among  us." 

"  Why  would  they  ? — what  need  of  it  ? 
Ar'n't  we  down,  down — ar'n't  we  hunted 
like  wild  beasts  ?  is  the  roof  left  to  shelter 
us  ?  dare  we  walk  the  roads  ?  dare  we  say, 
'  God  save  ye  ! '  when  we  meet,  and  not  be 
tried  for  pass- words  ?  It's  no  wonder  they 
pity  us — the  hardest  heart  must  melt  some- 
times." 

"As  to  myself,"  said  I— for  there  was 
no  use  in  attempting  to  reason  with  him 
further — "my  every  wish  is  with  the  cause 
as  warmly  as  on  the  day  we  parted  ;  but  I 
look  to  France—" 

"  Ay,  and  why  not  ?  I  remember  the 
time  your  eye  flashed  and  your  cheek  grew 
another  color  when  you  spoke  of  that." 

"Yes,  Darby,"  said  I,  after  a  pause; 
"  and  I  had  not  been  here  now,  but  that 
the  only  means  I  possessed  of  forwarding 
myself  in  the  French  service  are  unfortu- 
nately lost  to  me." 

'•'  And  what  was  that  ?  "  interrupted  he, 
eagerly. 

"  Some  letters  which  the  poor  Captain 
de  Meudon  gave  me,"  said  I,  endeavoring 
to  seem  as  much  at  ease  as  I  could.  Dar- 
by stooped  down  as  I  spoke,  and,  ripping 
opon  the  lining  of  his  cloak,  produced  a 
small  parcel  fastened  with  a  cord,  saying, 

"  Are  these  what  you  mean  ?  " 

I  opened  it  Avith  a  trembling  hand,  and, 
to  my  inexpressible  delight,  discovered 
Charles's  letter  to  the  head  of  the  Ecole 
Poly  technique,  together  with  a  letter  of 
credit  and  two  checks  on  his  banker.  The 
note  to  his  sister  was  not,  however,  among 
them. 

"How  came  you  by  these  papers,  Dar- 
by ?  "  inquired  J,  eagerly. 

"  I  found  them  on  the  road  Barton  trav- 
eled, the  same  evening  you  made  your  es- 
cape from  the  yeomanry — you  remember 
that  ?  They  were  soon  missed,  and  an  or-  j 
derly  was  sent  back  to  search  for  them. 
Since  that,  I've  kept  them  by  me  ;  and  it  was 
only  yesterday  that  I  thought  of  bringing 
them  to  you,  thinking  you  might  know 
something  about  them." 

"  There's  a  mark  on  this  one,"  said  I, 
still  gazing  on  the  paper  in  my  hand — "  it 
looks  like  blood." 

"If  it  is,  it's  mine  then,"  said  Darby, 
doggedly  ;  and,  after  a  pause,  he  continued, 
"The  soldier  galloped  up  the  very  minute 
I  was  stooping  for  the  papers.  He  called 
out  to  me  to  give  them  up  ;  but  I  pretend- 
ed not  to  hear,  and  took  a  long  look  round 
to  see  what  way  I  could  escape  where  his 


horse  couldn't  follow  me  ;  but  he  saw 
what  I  was  at,  and  the  same  instant  his 
sabre  was  in  my  shoulder,  and  the  blood 
running  hot  down  my  arm.  I  fell  on  my 
knees;  hut,,  if  I  did,  I  took  this  from  my 
bre*ast" — here  he  drew  forth  a  long-bar- 
reled rusty  pistol — "and  shot  him  through 
the  neck." 

"  W-as  he  killed  ?"  said  I,  in  horror  at  the 
coolness  of  the  recital. 

"  Sorrow  one  o'  me  knows.  He  fell  on 
his  horse's  mane,  and  I  saw  the  beast  gal- 
lop with  him  up  the  road  with  his  arms 
hanging  at  each  side  of  the  neck  ;  and  then 
I  heard  a  crash,  and  I  saw  that  he  was 
down,  and  the  horse  was  dragging  him  by 
the  stirrup ;  but  the  dust  soon  hid  him 
from  my  sight,  and,  indeed,  I  was  growing 
weak  too,  so  I  crept  into  the  bushes  until 
it  was  dark,  and  then  got  down  to  Glen- 
cree." 

The  easy  indifference  with  which  he 
spoke,  the  tone  of  coolness  in  which  he 
narrated  this  circumstance,  thrilled  through 
me  far  more  painfully  than  the  most  pas- 
sionate description  ;  and  I  stood  gazing'  on 
him  with  a  feeling  of  dread  that,  unhappily, 
my  features  but  too  plainly  indicated.  lie 
seemed  to  know  what  was  passing  in  my 
mind  ;  and,  as  if  stung  by  what  he  deemed 
my  ingratitude  for  the  service  he  had  ren- 
dered me,  his  face  grew  darkly  red,  the 
swollen  veins  stood  out  thick  and  knotted 
in  his  forehead,  his  livid  lips  quivered,  and 
he  said,  in  a  thick,  guttural  voice, 

"  Maybe  ye  think  I  murdered  him  ?  " 
And  then,  as  I  made  no  answer,  he  re- 
sumed, in  a  different  tone,  "And  faix,  ye 
warn't  long  larnin'  their  lessons.  But, 
hear  me,  now  :  there  never  was  a  traitor  to 
the  cause  had  a  happy  life,  or  an  easy 
death  ;  there  never  was  one  betrayed  us 
but  we  were  revenged  on  him  or  his.  I 
don't  think  ye're  come  to  that  yet ;  for,  if 
I  did,  by  the  mortial — "  As  he  pronounced 
the  last  word  in  a  tone  of  the  fiercest  men- 
ace, the  sounds  of  many  voices  talking 
without,  and  the  noise  of  a  key  turning  in 
the  lock,  broke  in  upon  our  colloquy,  and 
Darby  had  scarcely  time  to  resume  his 
disguise,  when  Bubbleton  entered,  followed 
by  three  of  his  brother  officers,  all  speak- 
ing together,  and  in  accents  that  evidently 
betokened  their  having  drunk  somewhat 
freely. 

"  I  tell  you,  again  and  again,  the  dia- 
mond wins  it.  But  here  we  are,"  cried 
Bubbleton  ;  "  and  now  for  a  pack  of  cards, 
and  let's  decide  the  thing  at  once.'' 

"You  said  you'd  bet  fifty,  I  think?" 
drawled  out  Crofts,  who  was  unquestion- 
ably the  most  sober  of  the  party.     "  But 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


307 


what  have  we  here  ?  "  At  this  instant  his 
eye  fell  upon  Darby,  who  had  quietly  en- 
sconced himself  behind  the  door,  and  hoped 
to  escape  unseen.  "Eh,  what's  this,  I 
say  ?  " 

"What!"  cried  Bubbleton,  "what  do  I 
see  ? — a  nymph  with  bright  and  flowing 
hair — a  hag  like  Hecuba,  by  Jove  !  Tom 
Burke,  my  man,  how  comes  the  damsel 
here  ?  '■' 

"'Tis  Kitty  — ould  Kitty  Cole,  your 
honor.  The  young  gentleman  was  buying 
a  ballad  from  me,  the  Heavens  prosper 
him  !"  said  Darby. 

"Nothing  treasonous,  I  hope — no  dis- 
loyal effusion,  Tom  ;  no  scandal  about 
Queen  Elizabeth,  mv  boy,  eh  ?  " 

"Come,  old  lady/' said  Cradock-,  "let's 
have  the  latest  novelty  of  the  Liberty." 

"  Yes,"  said  Bubbleton,  "strike  the  harp 
in  praise  of —     Confound  the  word  !  " 

"Hang  the  old  crone  !"  broke  in  Hil- 
liard.  "Here  are  the  cards.  The  game 
stands  thus  :  a  spade  is  led — you've  got 
none  ;  hearts  are  trumps." 

"No,  you  mistake;  the  diamond's  the 
trump,"  said  Cradock. 

"I  cry  halt,"  said  Crofts,  holding  up 
both  bis  hands  ;  "the  first  thing  is,  what's 
the  bet  ?  " 

"  Anything  you  like,"  cried  Buhbleton  ; 
"fifty — a  hundred — five  hundred." 

"  Be  it  then  five  hundred  ;  I  take  you," 
said  Crofts,  coolly,  taking  a  memorandum-  j 
book  from  his  pocket. 

"No,  no,"  interposed  Hilliard  ;  "Bub-! 
bleton,  you  shan't  do  any  such  thing  ;  five 
— ten — twenty,  if  you  wish,    but  I'll  not 
stand  by  at  such  a  wager." 

"We'll,  then,  if  twenty  be  as  much  as 
you  have  got  permission  to  bet,"  replied 
Crofts,  insolently,  "  there's  my  stake. "  So 
saying,  he  threw  a  note  on  the  table,  and 
looked  over  at  Bubbleton,  as  if  awaiting  his 
doing  the  same. 

I  saw  my  poor  friend's  embarrassment, 
and,  without  stirring  from  my  place,  slipped 
a  note  into  his  hand  in  silence  ;  a  squeeze 
of  his  fingers  replied  to  me,  and  the  same 
instant  he  threw  the  crumpled  piece  of 
paper  down,  and  cried  out,  "Now  for  it — 
decide  the  point." 

Crofts  at  once  drew  his  chair  to  the  table, 
and  began  with  the  utmost  coolness  to  ar- 
range the  cards  ;  while  the  others,  deeply 
interested  in  the  point  at  issue,  looked  on 
without  speaking.  I  thought  this  a  good 
opportunity  for  Darby  to  effect  bis  escape, 
and,  raising  my  band  noiselessly,  I  pointed 
to  the  door.  Darby,  who  had  been  only 
waiting  for  the  fortunate  moment,  stole 
quietly  toward  it ;  but,  while  his  hand  was 


on  the  lock,  Crofts  lifted  his  eyes  toward 
me.  and  then  throw  ing  them  half  round, 
intimated  at  once  thai  lie  observed  the 
manoeuvre.  The  blood  suffused  my  face 
and  temples,  ami  though  1  saw  the  door 
close  behind  the  piper,  I  could  not  recover 
from  my  embarrassment,  or  the  fear  thai 
pressed  on  me  lesl  Crofts  should  have  pen- 
etrated ilw  ecrel  of  Darby's  di  and 
augured  from  the   fact  something   to  my 

discredit. 

"The  game  is  now  arranged,"  said  he. 
"The  spade  being  led  here,  the  second 
player  follows  suit,  the  third,  having  none, 
trumps  the  card,  and  is  overtrumped  b\ 
the  last  in  play  ;  the  trick  is  lost,  therefore, 
and,  with  it,  the  game.'' 

"No,  no,"  interrupted  Bubbleton, 
"you  mistake  altogether;  the  diamond- 
no,  the  heart — I  mean  the — the — what  the 
deuce  is  it  ?  I  say,  Cradock,  I  had  it  all 
correct  a  minute  ago — how  is  it,  old  fel- 
low ?  " 

"Why,  you've  lost,  that's  all,"  said  the 
other,  as  he  looked  intently  on  the  table, 
and  seemed  to  consider  the  point. 

"Yes,  Bubbleton,  there's  no  doubt  about 
it — you've  lost — we  forgot  all  about  the 
last  player,"  said  Hilliard. 

A  violent  knocking  at  the  outer  door 
drowned  the  voices  of  all  within,  while  a 
gruff  voice  shouted  out, 

"Captain  Bubbleton,  the  grand  round 
is  coming  up  Parliament  street." 

Bubbleton  snatched  up  his  sword,  and 

dashing   through  the  room,  was  followed 

|  by  the  others  in  a  roar  of  laughter.    Crofts 

alone  remaining  behind,  proceeded  leisurely 

j  to  open  the  folded  piece  of  bank  paper  that 

I  lay  before  him,  while  I  stood  opposite  unable 

j  to  take  my  eyes  from  him.     Slowly  unfold- 

I  ing  the  note,  he  flattened  it  with  his  hand. 

'and  then  proceeded  to  read  aloud,   "  Payez 

au  porteur  lasomne  de  deux  milk  livres — " 

"I beg  pardon,"  interrupted  I  ;   "there's 

!  a  mistake  there— that  belongs  to  me." 

"I   thought  as  much,"  replied  Crofts, 
j  with  a  very  peculiar  smile — "  1  scarcely  sup- 
posed  my  friend    Bubbleton  had  gone  so 
I  far." 

"There's  the  sum,  sir."'  said  I,  endeav- 
oring to  control  my  temper,  and  only  eager 
to  regain  possession  of  what  would  at 
once  have  compromised  me.  if  discovered. 
"This  is  what  Captain  Bubbleton  lost — 
twenty  pounds,  if  I  mistake  not." 

" I  must  entreat  your  pardon,  sir,"  said 
Crofts,  folding  up  'the  French  billet  de 
banque.  "  My  wager  was  not  with  you, 
nor  can  I  permit  you  to  pay  it.  This  is  at 
present  my  property,  and  remains  so  until 
Captain  Bubbleton  demands  it  of  me." 


60S 


CHARLES  LEVEE'S    WORKS. 


I  was  struck  dumb  by  the  manner  in 
which  these  words  were  spoken.  It  was 
clear  to  me,  that  aoi  onh  he  suspected  the 
disguise  of  the  ballad-singer,  but  that  by 
the  discovery  of  the  French  note  lie  con- 
nected his  presence  with  its  being  in  my 
possession.  Rousing  myself  for  the  effort, 
I  said,  "You  force  me,  sir,  to  speak  of 
what  nothing  short  of  the  circumstance 
could  have  induced  me  to  allude  to.  It 
was  I  gave  Captain  Bnbbleton  that  note. 
I  gave  it  in  mistake  for  this  one." 
'  "  I  guessed  as  much,  sir,"  was  the  cool 
answer  of  Crofts,  as  he  placed  the  note  in 
his  pocket-book  and  clasped  it;  "but  I 
cannot  permit  your  candid  explanation  to 
alter  the  determination  I  have  already  come 
to— even  had  I  not  the  stronger  motive, 
which  as  an  officer  in  his  Majesty's  pay  I 
possess,  to  inform  the  Government,  on  such 
infallible  evidence,  how  deeply  interested 
our  French  neighbors  are  in  our  welfare, 
when  they  supply  us  with  a  commodity 
which  report  says  is  scarce  enough  among 
themselves." 

"Do  not  suppose,  sir,  that  your  threat 
— for  as  such  I  understand  it — has  any 
terror  for  me ;  there  is,  it's  true,  another 
whose  safety  might  be  compromised  by  any 
step  you  might  take  in  this'  affair ;  but 
when  I  tell  you,  that  it  is  one  who  never 
did,  never  could  have  injured  you,  and, 
moreover,  that  nothing  treasonous  or  dis- 
loyal lies  beneath  your  discovery — " 

"  You  are  really  taking  a  vast  deal  of 
trouble,  Mr.  Burke."  said  he,  stopping  me 
with  a  cold  smile  ;  "  which  I  am  forced  to 
say  is  unnecessary.  Your  explanation  of 
how  this  billet  de  lanquo  came  into  your 
possession  may  be  required  elsewhere,  and 
will,  I  am  certain,  meet  with  every  respect 
and  attention.  As  for  me,  an  humble 
captain,  with  only  one  principle  to  sustain 
me,  one  clue  to  guide  me,  in  what  I  am 
disposed  to  consider  a  question  of  some  im- 
portance, I  shall  certainly  ask  advice  of 
others  better  able  to  direct  me." 

"  You  refuse,  then,  sir,  to  restore  me 
what  I  have  assured  you  is  mine  ?" 

"  And  what  I  have  no  doubt  whatever 
you  are  correct  in  calling  so,*'  added  he, 
contemptuously. 

"And  you  persist  in  the  refusal  ?  "  said 
I,  in  a  voice  which  unhappily  betrayed 
more  temper  than  I  had  yet  shown. 

"Even  so,  sir,"  said  he,  moving  toward 
the  door. 

"In  that  case,"  said  I,  springing  before 
him,  and  setting  my  back  against  it,  "  you 
don't  leave  this  room  until,  in  the  presence 
of  a  third  party,  I  care  not  who  he  be,  I 
have  told  you  somewhat  more  of  my  opin- 


ion of  you  than  it  is  necessary  I  should  say 
now."  The  insulting  expression  of  Crofts' 
features  changed  suddenly  as  1  spoke,  the 
color  left  his  cheek,  and  he  became  as  pale 
as  death  ;  his  eye  wandered  round  the 
room  with  an  uncertain  look,  and  then  was 
fixed  steadfastly  on  the  door,  against  which 
I  stood  firmly  planted.  At  length  his  face 
recovered  its  wonted  character,  and  he  said, 
in  a  cool,  dist  incl  manner, 

"  Your  difficulties  have  made  you  bold, 
sir." 

"  Not   more   bold  than   you'll    find  me 

whenever  you  flunk  fit  to  call  on  me  ;  but 

perhaps  I  am  wrong  for  suggesting  a  test, 

!  which  report,  at  least,  says  Captain  Crofts 

I  has  little  predilection  for." 

"Insolent  cub,"  said  he,  half  drawing 
his  sword  from  the  scabbard,  and  as  hastily 
replacing  it  when  he  perceived  that  I  ne\  er 
moved  a  muscle  in  my  defense,  but  stood 
as  if  inviting  his  attack.  "  Let  me  pass, 
j  sir,"  cried  he,  impetuously  ;  "  stand  by 
this  instant.'' 

I  made  no  reply,  but,  crossing  my  arms 
on  my  breast,  stared  at  him  firmly  as  before. 
He  had  now  advanced  within  a  foot  of  me, 
his  face  purple  with  passion,  and  his  hands 
trembling  with  rage. 

"Let  me  pass,  I  say,"  shouted  he,  m  an 
accent  that  boded  bis  passion  had  complete- 
ly got  the  ascendant  ;  at  the  same  instant 
he  seized  me  by  the  collar,  and,  fixing  his 
grip  firmly  in  my  clothes,  prepared  to  hurl 
me  from  the  spot.  The  moment  had  now 
come  that  for  some  minutes  past  I  had  been 
expecting,  and  with  my  open  hand  I  struck 
him  on  the  cheek,  but  so  powerfully,  that 
he  reeled  back  with  the  stroke.  A  yell  of 
rage  burst  from  him,  and  in  an  instant  his 
sword  leaped  from  the  scabbard,  and  he 
darted  fiercely  at  me.  I  sprang  to  one 
side,  and  the  weapon  pierced  the  door  and 
broke  off  short;  still  more  than  half  the 
blade  remained  ;  and  with  this  he  flew 
toward  me.  One  quick  glance  I  gave  to 
look  for  something  which  might  serve  to 
arm  me,  and  the  same  moment  the  sharp 
steel  pierced  my  side,  and  I  fell  backward 
with  a  shock,  carrying  my  antagonist  along 
with  me.  The  struggle  was  now  a  dread- 
ful one  ;  for  while  he  endeavored  to  with- 
draw the  weapon  from  the  wound,  my 
hands  were  on  his  throat,  and  in  his  strain- 
ed eyeballs  and  livid  color  might  be  seen 
that  a  few  seconds  more  must  decide  the 
contest  ;  a  sharp  pang  shot  through  me, 
just  then  a  hot  gush  of  warm  blood  ran 
down  my  side,  and  I  saw  above  me  the 
shining  steel,  which  he  was  gradually  short- 
ening in  bis  hand,  before  he  ventured  to 
i  strike  ;  a  wild  cry  broke  from  me,  while  at 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


309 


the  instant,  with  a  crash,  the  door  of  the 
room  tell  forward,  torn  from  its  hinges  ; 
a  heavy  foot  approached,  and  the  blow  of  a 
strong  arm  felled  Crofts  to  the  earth,  where 
he  lay  stunned  and  senseless.  In  a  second 
I  was  on  my  feet ;  my  senses  were  reeling 
and  uncertain,  but  I  could  see  that  it  was 
Darby  who  came  to  my  rescue,  and  who 
was  'now  binding  a  sash  round  my  wound 
to  staunch  the  blood. 

"  Now  for  it — life  or  death's  on  it  now," 
said  he  in  a  low  but  distinct  whisper ; 
"wipe  the  blood  from  your  face,  and  be 
calm  as  you  can  when  you're  passing  the 
sentry." 

"  Is  he "  I  dared  not  speak  the  word 

as  I  looked  on  the  still  motionless  body  that 
lay  before  me.  Darby  raised  one  arm,  and 
as  he  let  it  go  it  fell  heavily  on  the  ground  ; 
he  stooped  down,  and,  placing  his  lips 
near  the  mouth,  endeavored  to  ascertain  if 
he  breathed,  and  then,  jumping  to  his  feet, 
he  seized  my  arm,  and,  in  a  tone  I  shall 
never  forget,  he  said,  "  It's  over  now." 

I  tottered  back  as  he  spoke  ;  the  horrible 
thought  of  murder — the  frightful  sense  of 
crime — the  heaviest,  the  blackest  that  can 
stain  the  heart  of  man— stunned  me  ;  my 
senses  reeled,  and  as  I  looked  on  that  corpse 
stretched  at  my  feet,  I  would  have  suffered 
my  every  bone  to  be  broken  on  the  rack,  to 
see  one  quiver  of  life  animate  its  rigid 
members.  Meanwhile,  Darby  was  kneeling 
down,  and  seemed  to  search  for  something 
beside  the  body. 

"All  right — come  now,"  said  he  ;  "we 
must  be  far  from  this  before  daybreak  ;  and 
it's  lucky  if  we've  the  means  to  do  it."  I 
moved  onward  like  one  walking  in  a  dream, 
when  horrible  images  surround  him,  and 
dreadful  thoughts  are  ever  crowding 
fast ;  but  where,  amid  all,  some  glimmer- 
ing sense  of  hope  sustains  him,  and  he  half 
feels  that  the  terrors  will  pass  away,  and 
his  soul  be  calm  and  tranquil  once  more. 
What  is  it  ?  What  has  happened  ?  was 
the  ever  rising  question,  as  I  heard  Darby 
groping  his  way  along  the  dark  gallery, 
and  the  darker  stairs. 

"  Be  steady,  now,"  said  he,  in  a  whisper, 
"  we're  at  the  gate." 

"  Who  comes  there  ?  "  cried  the  sentry. 

"A  friend,"  said  Darby,  in  a  feigned 
voice,  answering  for  me,  while  he  dropped 
behind  me.  The  heavy  bolts  were  with- 
drawn, and  I  felt  the  cold  air  of  the  streets 
on  my  cheek. 

"Where  to,  now?"  said  I,  with  a 
dreamy  consciousness  that  some  place  of 
safety  must  be  sought,  without  well  know- 
ing why  or  wherefore. 

"Lean  on  me,  and  don't  speak,"  said 


Darby.  "If  you  can  walk  as  far  as  the 
end  of  the  quay  we're  all  safe."  I  walked 
on  without  lurcher  questioning,  and  almosl 
without  thought :  and  though,  from  time 
to  time,  Darby  spoke  to  several  persons  as 
Ave  passed,  I  heard  not -what  they  said,  nor 
took  any  notice  of  them. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


THE    FLIGHT. 


"  Are  ye  getting  weak  ?  "  said  Darby,  as 
I  staggered  heavily  against  him  and  gasped 
twice  or  thrice  for  breath.  "  Are  ye  bleed- 
ing still  ?  "  was  his  next,  question,  while  he 
passed  his  hand  gently  within  the  sash, 
and  felt  my  wound.  I  endeavored  to  mut- 
ter something  in  reply,  to  which  he  paid  no 
attention,  but,  stooping  down,  he  threw 
me  across  his  shoulder,  and  darting  off  at 
a  more  rapid  pace  than  before,  he  left  the 
more  frequented  thoroughfare,  and  entered 
a  narrow  and  gloomy  alley,  unlighted  by  a 
single  lamp.  As  he  hurried  onward  he 
stopped  more  than  once,  as  if  in  quest  of 
some  particular  spot,  but  which  in  the 
darkness  he  was  unable  to  detect.  "  Oh  ! 
Holy  Mother!"  he  muttered,  "the  blood 
is  soaking  through  me  !  Master  Tom,  dear 
— Master  Tom,  my  darlin',  speak  to  me — '- 
speak  to  me,  acushla ! "  But,  though  I 
heard  each  word  distinctly,  I  could  not 
utter  one — a  dreamy  stupor  was  over  me, 
and  I  only  wished  to  be  left  quiet.  "This 
must  be  it — ay,  here  it  is,"  said  Darby,  as 
he  laid  me  gently  down  on  the  stone  sill  of 
the  door,  and  knocked  loudly  with  his 
knuckles.  The  summons,  though  repeated 
three  or  four  times,  was  unheeded  ;  and, 
although  he  knocked  loudly  enough  to 
have  alarmed  the  neighborhood,  and  called 
out  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  no  one  came  ; 
and  the  only  sounds  we  could  near  were 
the  distant  cadences  of  a  drinking  song, 
mingled  with  wild  shouts  of  laughter,  and 
still  wilder  cries  of  agony  and  woe. 

"  Here  they  are,  at  last,"  said  Darby,  as 
he  almost  staved  in  the  door  with  a  heavy 
stone. 

"  Who's  there  ?  "  cried  a  harsh  and  feeble 
voice  from  within. 

"'Tis  me,  Molly— 'tis  Darby  M'Keown. 
Open  quick,  for  the  love  of  Heaven — here's 
a  young  gentleman  bleedin1  to  death  on 
the  steps." 

"Ugh  !  there's  as  good  as  ever  he  was, 
and  going  as  fast,  too,  here  within,"  said 
the  crone.     "  Ye  must  take  him  away — he 


310 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS 


wouldn't  mind  him  now  for  a  king's  ran- 
som." 

"  I'll  break  open  the  door  this  minit," 
said  Darby,  with  a  horrible  oath,  "av  ye 
don't  open  it." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! '.'  laughed  the  hag.  "  If 
ye  wor  Darby  M'Keown,  ye'd  know  well 
how  easy  that  is  ;  try  it — try  it,  acushla  ! 
oak  timber  and  nails  is  able  to  bear  all 
you'll  do." 

"See,  now,"  said  Darby,  dropping  his 
voice  to  a  whisper — "see,  Molly,  here's 
five  goold  guineas  for  ye,  av  ye'll  lot  us  in 
— 'tis  a  man's  life  on  it,  and  one  I'd  give 
my  own  for  twice  over." 

"Av  ye  offered  me  forty,"  replied  she, 
"  I  dar'n't  do  it.  Ye  don't  know  the  sorrow 
that's  here  this  night.  "lis  Dan  Fortescue 
is  going.  I'm  coming,  I'm  coming,"  mut- 
tered she  to  some  call  from  within.  And 
then,  without  waiting  to  hear  more,  she 
shuffled  back  along  the  passage,  and  left  us 
once  more  alone. 

"  There's  nothing  for  it  but  this  now," 
said  Darby,  as,  retiring  a  few  paces,  he 
dashed  his  shoulder  against  the  door  with 
all  his  force  ;  but,  though  a  powerful  man, 
and  though  every  window  rattled  and 
trembled  with  the  tremendous  shock,  the 
strong  panels  withstood  the  stroke,  and 
never  yielded  in  the  least.  "  'Tis  no  use 
firing  through  the  lock,"  said  he,  in  a  tone 
of  despair.  "  Blessed  Joseph  !  what's  to 
be  done  ?  " 

As  he  spoke,  the  light  tread  of  a  bare- 
footed child  was  heard  coming  up  the  lane, 
and  the  same  moment  a  little  girl  ap- 
proached the  door  ;  she  carried  a  cup  in 
her  hand,  and  held  it  carefully,  as  if 
fearful  of  spilling  its  contents.  As  she 
neared  the  door,  she  seemed  uncertain  how 
to  proceed,  and  at  last,  as  if  gaining 
courage,  tapped  twice  at  it  with  her 
knuckles. 

"  Don't  ye  know  me,  Nora  ?  "  said  Dar- 
by ;  "  don't  ye  know  Darby  the  Blast  ?  " 

"Ah  !  Mister  M'Keown,  *is  this  you  ?  Ah ! 
I'm  afeard  it's  little  use  there  is  in  com- 
ing here  to-night.  Mr.  Fortescue's  dying 
within,  and  Dr.  Kenagh  can't  leave  him. 
I'm  bringing  him  this  to  take,  but—" 

"Nora,  dear,"  said  Darby,  "I've  a  secret 
for  Mr.  Fortescue,  and  must  see  him  before 
he  dies.  Here's  a  crown,  my  darlin',  and 
don't  tell  anyone  I  gave  it.  to  ye."  Here 
he  stooped  down,  and  whispered  rapidly 
some  words  in  her  ear. 

"Who's    there?' 
voice  from  within. 

""Tis  me,  Nora,"  said  the  child,  boldly. 

"  Are  ye  alone  there — do  ye  see  any  one 
about  the  door  ?  " 


broke    in    the    hag's 


"Sorra  one  ;  can't  you  let  me  in  out  of 
the  eowld  ? " 

"Come  in  quick,  then,"  said  the  crone, 
as  she  opened  (he  door  carefully,  and  only 
wide  enough  to  let  the  child  pass  ;  hut  the 
same  instanl  Darby  dashed  forward  his 
foot,  and,  flinging  the  door  full  wide, 
seized  me  by  the  collar,  and  dragged  me  in 
alter  him,  closing  the  door  at  once  behind 
him.  The  screams  of  the  hag,  though 
loud  and  vehement,  were  as  unheeded  as 
were  Darby's  own  efforts  to  attract  notice 
half  an  hour  before. 

"Be  quiet,  I  say — hush  yer  crying,  or, 
be  the  sowl  o'  the  man  that's  dyin',  I'll 
dhrive  a  hall  through  ye."  The  sight  of  a 
pistol-barrel  seemed  at  last  to  have  its 
effect,  and  she  contented  herself  with  a 
low,  wailing  kind  of  a  noise,  as  she  tot- 
tered after  us  along  the  passage. 

The  cold  air  of  the  street,  and  the  rest 
combined,  had  given  me  strength,  and  I 
was  able  to  follow  Darby,  as  he  led  the  way 
through  many  a  passage,  and  up  more  than 
one  stair. 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  the  child,  in  a  whis- 
per, as  she  stopped  at  the  door  of  a  room 
which  lay  half  ajar. 

We  halted  in  silence,  and  listened  to  the 
breathings  of  a  man,  whose  short,  sobbing 
respiration,  broken  by  hiccup,  denoted  the 
near  approach  of  death. 

"Go  on, "cried  a  deep,  low  voice,  in  a 
tone  of  eagerness  ;  "ye'll  not  have  the 
cough  now  for  some  time." 

The  sick  man  made  no  reply,  but  his 
hurried  breathing  seemed  to  show  that  he 
was  making  some  unwonted  effort ;  at  last 
be  spoke,  but  in  a  voice  so  faint  and  husky, 
we  could  not  hear  the  words.  The  other, 
however,  appeared  to  listen,  and,  by  a  stray 
monosyllable  dropped  at  intervals,  to  follow 
the  tenor  of  his  speech.  At  last  the  sound 
ceased,  and  all  was  still. 

"  Go  in  now,"  said  Darby,  in  a  whisper, 
to  the  child,  "I'll  follow  you." 

The  little  girl  gently  pushed  the  door 
and  entered,  followed  by  M'Keown,  who, 
however,  only  advanced  one  foot  within 
the  room,  as  if  doubting  what  reception  he 
should  meet  with. 

By  the  uncertain  light  of  a  wood-fire, 
which  threw  in  fitful  flashes  its  glare 
around,  I  perceived  that  a  sick  man  lay  on 
a  mean-looking,  miserable  bed  in  one  cor- 
ner of  a  dark  room  ;  beside  him,  seated  on 
a  Ioav  stool,  sat  another,  his  head  bent 
down  to  catch  the  low  breathings  which 
the  dying  man  gave  forth  from  time  to 
time.  The  heavy  snoring  sound  of  others 
asleep  directed  my  eyes  to  a  distant  part  of 
the  chamber,   where  I  saw  three   fellows 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


311 


lying  on  the  floor,  partly  covered  by  a 
blanket.  I  had  barely  time  to  see  this 
much,  when  the  figure  beside  the  bed 
sprang  forward,  and,  in  a  low  but  me- 
nacing tone,  addressed  M'Keown.  The 
last  words  only  could  I  catch,  as  he  said, 

"  And  if  he  wakes  up  he  may  know  you 
still. " 

"  And  if  he  does,"  said  Darby,  dog- 
gedly, "  who  cares  ?  Isn't  there  as  good 
blood  as  his  shed  for  the  cause  ?  Look 
here  ! " 

He  dragged  me  forward  as  he  spoke,  and, 
tearing  open  my  coat,  pointed  to  the  sash 
that  was  now  saturated  with  the  blood  that 
flowed  at  every  stir  from  my  wound.  The 
other  looked  fixedly  at  me  for  a  second  or 
two,  took  my  hand  within  his,  and,  letting 
it  fall  heavily,  he  whispered  a  word  to 
M'Keown,  and  turned  away. 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Darby,  violently  ;  by 
the  holy  mass  !  yell  not  trate  me  that  way. 
Sit  down,  Master  Tom,"  said  he,  as  he 
forced  me  into  an  old  arm-chair  beside  the 
fire.  "  Here,  take  a  drink  of  water.  Come 
here,  doctor ;  come  here,  now,  stop  the 
bleeding  ;  stand  by  me  this  wonst,  and  by 
this —  "  Here  he  crossed  his  fingers  before 
him,  and  looked  fervently  upward  ;  but  at 
this  instant  the  sick  man  sprang  up  in  his 
bed,  and  looked  wildly  about  him. 

"Isn't  that  Darby — isn't  that  M'Ke'own 
there  ? "  cried  he,  as  he  pointed  with  his 
finger.  "Darby,"  he  continued,  in  a  low, 
clear  whisper — "  Darby,  see  here,  my  boy  ; 
you  often  said  I'd  do  nothing  for  the  cause. 
Is  this  nothing  ? "  He  threw  back  the 
bedclothes  as  he  spoke,  and  disclosed  a, 
ghastly  wound  that  divided  his  chest, 
exposing  the  cartilage  of  the  ribs,  which 
stood  out  amid  the  welling  blood  that  oozed 
forth  with  every  respiration  he  made.  "  Is 
it  nothing  that  I  gave  up  rank,  and  place, 
and  fortune,  the  broad  acres  that  were  in 
my  family  for  three  centuries — all  my 
hopes,  all  my  prospects —  " 

"And  if  you  did,"  interrupted  M'Keown, 
hastily,  "you  knew  what  for." 

"  I  knew  what  for  ! "  repeated  the  sick 
man,  as  a  deadly  smile  played  upon  his 
livid  face  and  curled  his  white  lip  ;  "  I  know 
it  now,  at  least  :  to  leave  my  inheritance  to 
a  bastard — to  brand  my  name  with  disgrace 
and  dishonor — to  go  down  to  the  grave  a 
traitor,  and,  worse  still — ■  "  He  shuddered 
violently  here,  and  though  his  mouth 
moved,  no  sound  came  forth  ;  he  sank  back, 
worn  out  and  exhausted. 

"  Was  he  there,'"  said  Darby  to  the  doc- 
tor, with  a  significant  emphasis  on  the 
word,  "  was  he  there  to-night  ?  " 

"He  was,"  replied  the  other,   "He  thinks, 


too,  he  fired  the  shot  that  did  it;  but, 
poor  fellow  !  he  was  down  before  that. 
The  boys  brought  him  off.  That  child  is 
going  fast,"  continued  he,  as  his  eye  fell 
upon  me. 

"  Look  to  him,  then,  and  don't  be  losin' 
time,"  said  Darby',  fiercely;  "look  to 
him,"  he  added,  more  mildly,  "  and  the 
heavens  will  bless  ye.  Here's  twenty  goolden 
guineas — it's  all  I've  saved  these  eight 
years — here  they're  for  you,  and  save  his 
life." 

The  old  man  knelt  down  beside  me,  and 
■slipping  a  scissors  within  the  scarf  that  lay 
fastened  to  my  side  with  clotted  blood,  he 
proceeded  to  open  and  expose  the  situation 
of  my  wound.  A  cold,  sick  feeling,  a 
kind  of,  half-fainting  sensation,  followed 
this,  and  I  could  hear  nothing  of  the  dia- 
logue  that  passed  so  near  me.  An  occa- 
sional sting  of  pain  shot  through  me  as  the 
dressing  proceeded  ;  but,  save  this,  I  had 
little  consciousness  of  -anything.  At  length, 
like  one  awakening  from  a  heavy  slumber, 
with  faculties  half  clouded  by  the  dreamy 
past,  I  looked  around  me.  All  was  still 
and  motionless  in  the  room.  The  doctor 
sat  beside  the  sick  man's  bed,  and  Darby, 
his  eyes  riveted  on  me,  knelt  close  to  my 
chair,  and  held  his  hand  upon  the  bandage 
over  my  wound.  A  gentle  tap  here  came 
to  the  door,  and  the  child  I  had  seen 
before  entered  noiselessly,  and  approaching 
the  doctor,  said, 

"  The  car  is  come,  sir." 

The  old  man  nodded  in  silence,  and 
then,  turning  toward  Darby,  he  whispered 
something  in  his  ear.  M'Keown  sprang 
to  his  legs  at  once,  his  cheek  flushed  deeply, 
and  his  eyes  sparkled  with  animation. 

"I  have  it!  I  have  it!"  cried  he; 
"  there  never  was  such  luck  for  us  before." 

With  that  he  drew  the  old  man  to  one 
side,  and  speaking  to  him  in  a  low  but 
rapid  tone,  evinced  by  the  violence  of  his 
gestures  and  the  tremulous  eagerness  of  his 
voice  how  deeply  he  was  interested. 

"True  enough,  true  enough,"  said  the 
old  man,  after  a  pause  ;  "  poor  Dan  has 
but  one  more  journey  before  him." 

"  Is  he  able  to  bear  it,  doctor  ? "  said 
Darby,  pointing  toward  me  with  his  fin- 
ger ; ' "  that's  all  I  ask.  Has  he  the  strength 
in  him  ?  " 

"  He'll  do  now,"  replied  the  other, 
gruffly;  "there's  little  •  harm  done  him 
this  time.  Let  him  taste  that,  whenever 
you  find  him  growing  weak  ;  and  keep  his 
head  low,  and  there's  no  fear  of  him."  As 
he  spoke,  he  took  from  a  cupboard  in  the 
wall  a  small  phial,  which  he  handed  to 
M'Keown,  who  received  the  precious  elix:i 


312 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


with  as  much  reverence  as  though  it 
contained  the  very  well-spring  of  human 
existence. 

"  And  now,"  said  Darby,  "  the  less  time 
lost  the  better.  It  will  soon  bo  daylight  on 
us.  Master  Tom,  can  you  rise,  acushla  ? 
Are  you  able  to  stand  up  ?" 

I  made  the  effort  as  well  as  I  could,  but 
my  limbs  seemed  chained  down,  and  even 
my  arm  felt  like  lead  beside  rue. 

"Take  him  on  your  back,"  said  the  old 
man,  hurriedly.  "  You'll  stay  here  till 
sunrise.  Take  him  down-stairs  on  your 
back  ;  and,  when  you  have  him  in  the  open 
air,  turn  him  toward  the  wind,  and  keep 
his  head  low — mind  that." 

I  made  another  attempt  to  stand  up  ; 
but,  before  I  could  effect  it,  Darby's  strong 
arms  were  round  my  waist,  and  1  felt  my- 
self lifted  on  his  shoulder,  and  borne  from 
the  room.  A  muttered  good-by  passed 
between  the  others,  and  Darby  began  to 
descend  the  stairs  cautiously,  while  the 
little  child  went  before  with  a  candle.  As 
the  street-door  was  opened  I  could  per- 
ceive that  a  car  and  horse  stood  in  waiting, 
accompanied  by  two  men,  who,  the  moment 
they  saw  me,  sprang  forward  to  Darby's 
assistance,  and  helped  to  place  me  on  the 
car.  M 'Keo wn  was  soon  beside  me,  and, 
supporting  my  head  upon  his  shoulder,  he 
contrived  to  hold  me  in  a  leaning  position, 
giving  me,  at  the  same  time,  the  full  bene- 
fit of  the  cool  breeze,  which  already 
refreshed  and  restored  me.  The  vehicle 
now  moved  on  in  darkness  and  in  silence. 
At  first  our  pace  was  slow,  but  it  gradually 
quickened  as  we  passed  along  the  quay — 
for  as  such  I  recognized  it  by  the  dull 
sound  of  the  river  near  us.  The  bright 
lamps  of  the  greater  thoroughfares  soon 
made  their  appearance ;  and,  as  we  tra- 
versed these,  I  could  mark  that  our  pace 
slackened  to  a  walk,  and  that  we  kept  the 
very  middle  of  the  wide  street,  as  if  to 
avoid  observation.  Gradually  we  emerged 
from  this,  and,  as  I  heard  by  the  roll  of  the 
wheels,  reached  the  outskirts  of  the  town. 
We  had  not  been  many  minutes  there  when 
the  horse  was  put  to  his  speed,  and  the 
car  whirled  along  at  a  tremendous  rate. 
Excepting  a  sense  of  weight  and  stiffness 
in  the  side,  I  had  no  painful  feeling  from 
my  wound  ;  while  the  rapidity  with  which 
we  passed  through  the  air  imparted  a  sen- 
sation of  drowsiness  far  from  unpleasant. 
In  this  state  I  scarcely  was  conscious  of 
what  passed  about  me.  Now  and  then 
some  occasion;!  1  halt,  some  chance  inter- 
ruption, would  momentarily  arouse  me, 
and  I  could  faintly  hear  the  sound  of 
voices ;    but   of   what  they   spoke   I  knew 


nothing.  Darby  frequently  questioned  me, 
but  my  utmost  effort  at  reply  was  to  press 
his  hand.  By  times  it  would  seem  to  me 
as  though  all  1  felt  were  but  the  fancies  of 
some  sick  dream,  which  the  morning 
should  dispel  and  scatter.  Then  I  thought 
that  we  were  flying  from  an  enemy,  who 
pressed  hotly  on  us,  and  gained  at  every 
stride;  a  vague,  shadowy  sense,  of  some 
horrible  event  mingling  with  all,  and 
weighing  heavily  on  my  heart. 

As  the  time  wore  on  my  senses  became 
clearer,  and  I  saw  that  we  were  traveling 
along  the  seaside.  The  faint  gray  light  of 
breaking  day  shed  a  cold  gleam  across  the 
green  water,  which  plashed  with  a  mourn- 
ful cadence  on  the  low,  flat  shore.  I 
watched  the  waves  as  they  beat  with  a 
heavy  sough  amid  the  scattered  weeds, 
where  the  wild  cry  of  the  curlew  mingled 
with  the  sound  as  he  skimmed  along  the 
gloomy  water,  and  my  heart  grew  heavier. 
There  is  something — I  know  not  what — 
terribly  in  unison  with  our  saddest  thoughts 
iri  the  dull  plash  of  the  sea  at  night  :  the 
loudest  thunders  of  the  storm,  when  white- 
crested  waves  rise  high,  and  break  in  ten 
thousand  eddies  on  the  dark  rocks,  are  not 
so  suggestive  of  melancholy  as  the  sighing 
moan  of  the  midnight  tide.  Long-buried 
griefs,  long-forgotten  sorrows,  rise  up  as  we 
listen  ;  and  we  feel  as  though  that  wailing 
cry  were  the  funeral  chant  over  cherished 
hopes  and  treasured  aspirations.  From  my 
dark  musings  I  was  roused  suddenly  by 
Darby's  voice  asking  of  the  men  who  sat 
at  the  opposite  side,  how  the  wind  was  ? 

"Westing  by  south,"  replied  one,  "as 
fair  as  need  be,  if  there  was  enough  of  it — 
but  who  knows,  we  may  have  a  capful  yet, 
when  the  sun  gets  up." 

"  We'll  not  have  long  to  wait  for  that," 
cried  the  other — "see  there." 

I  lifted  my  eyes  as  he  spoke,  and  beheld 
the  pink  stain  of  coming  day  rising  abovr* 
the  top  of  a  large  mountain. 

"That's  Howth,"  said  Darby,  seizing 
with  eagerness  the  proof  of  my  returning 
senses. 

"Come,  press  on,  as  fast  as  you  can," 
said  one  of  the  men  ;  "we  must  catch  the 
ebb,  or  we'll  never  do  it." 

"Where  does  she  lie  ?  "  said  Darby,  in  a 
low  whisper. 

"Under  the  cliffs,  in  Bolskaton  Bay," 
said  the  last  speaker,  whom  I  now  per- 
ceived, by  his  dress  and  language,  to  be  a 
sailor. 

My  curiosity  was  now  excited  to  the  ut- 
most to  know  whither  we  were  bound,  and 
with  an  effort  I  articulated  the  one  word, 
"Where  ?"     Darby's  eyes  brightened  as  I 


TOM  BURKE   OF  ''OURS. 


313 


spoke,  he  pressed  my  handfirmly  within  his, 
but  made  me  no  reply.  Attributing  his  si- 
lence to  caution,  I  pressed  him  no  further; 
and,  indeed,  already  my  former  indiffer- 
ence came  back  on  me,  and  I  felt  listless  as 
before. 

"Turn  off  there  to  the  right,"  cried  the 
sailor  to  the  driver  ;  and  suddenly  wo  left 
the  high  road,  and  entered  a  narrow  by- 
way, which  seemed  to  lead  along  the  side 
of  the  mountain  close  to  the  water's  edge. 
Before  we  had  proceeded  far  in  this  direc- 
tion, a  long,  low  whistle  was  heard  from  a 
distance. 

"  Stop  there,  stop,"  said  the  sailor,  as  he 
knelt  upon  the  car,  and  replied  to  the  sig- 
nal. "Ay,  all  right,  there  they  are,"  said 
he,  as,  pointing  to  a  little  creek  between 
the  rocks  below  us,  we  saw  a  small  row-boat 
with  six  men  lying  on  their  oars. 

"  Can't  he  walk  ?  "  said  the  sailor,  in  a 
half  whisper,  as  he  stood  beside  the  car. 
"  Well,  let's  lose  no  more  time,  we'll  take 
him  down  between  us." 

"No,  no,"  said  Darby;  "put  him  on 
my  back,  I'll  do  it  myself." 

"  The  ground's  slippierthan  you  take  it," 
said  the  other  ;  "  my  way's  the  safest." 

With  that,  he  lifted  me  from  the  car, 
and  placing  me  between  Darby  and  himself, 
they  grasped  each  other's  hands  beneath 
me,  and  soon  began  a  descent  which  I  saw 
would  have  been  perfectly  impracticable  for 
one  man  to  have  accomplished  with  another 
on  his  back. 

During  the  time  my  desire  to  know  where 
they  were  bringing  me  again  grew  stronger 
than  ever  ;  and,  as  I  turned  to  ask  Darby, 
I  perceived  that  the  tears  were  coursing 
each  other  fast  down  his  weather-beaten 
cheeks,  while  his  lips  shook  and  trembled 
like  one  in  an  ague. 

"Mind  your  footing  there,  my  man,  I 
say,"  cried  the  sailor,  "  or  you'll  have  us 
over  the  cliff." 

"Round  the  rock  to  the  left  there," 
cried  a  voice  from  below  ;  "  that's  it,  that's 
it— now  you're  all  right ;  steady  there  ; 
give  me  your  hand." 

As  he  spoke,  two  men  advanced  from  the 
boat,  and  assisted  us  down  the  sloping 
beach,  where  the  wet  seaweed  made  every 
step  a  matter  of  difficulty. 

"Lay  him  in  the  stern  there — gently, 
lads,  gently,"  said  the  voice  of  one  who  ap- 
peared the  chief  amongst  them  ;  "  that's 
it ;  throw  those  jackets  under  his  head.  I 
say,  piper,  ar'n't  you  coming  with  us  ?  " 

But  Darby  could  not  speak  one  word.  A 
livid  pallor  was  over  his  features,  and  the 
tears  fell,  drop  by  drop,  upon  his  cheek. 

"  Master  Tom,"  said  he,   at  length,  as 


his  lips  almost  touched  me— "  my  child, 
my  heart's  blood,  you  won't  forget  poor 
Darby.  Ye'll  be  a  great  man  yet — ye'll  be 
all  I  wish  ye.  But  will  you  remember  a 
poor  man  like  me  ?  " 

"Jump  ashore  there,  my  good  fellow," 
cried  the  coxswain  ;  "  we'll  have  enough 
to  do  to  round  the  point  before  the  tide 
ebbs." 

"  One  minit  more,  and  God  love  ye  for 
it,"  said  Darby,  in  a  voice  of  imploring 
accent ;  "  who  knows  will  we  ever  meet 
again.  'Tis  the  last  time,  maybe,  I'll  ever 
look  on  him." 

I  could  but  press  his  hand  to  my  heart  ; 
for  my  agitation  increased  the  debility  I 
felt,  and  every  effort  to  speak  was  in  vain. 

"One  half  minit  more — if  it's  only  that 
he'll  be  able  to  say,  '  God  bless  you,  Dar- 
by !'  and  I'll  be  happy." 

"Push  off,  my  lads,"  shouted  the  sailor, 
sternly  ;  and  as  he  spoke  the  oars  plashed 
heavily  in  the  sea,  and  the  boat  rocked  over 
with  the  impulse.  Twice  the  strong  stroke 
of  the  oars  sent  the  craft  through  the  clear 
water,  when  the  piper  clasped  his  arm 
wildly  around  me,  and  kissing  me  on 
the  cheek,  he  sprang  over  the  side.  The 
waves  were  nearly  to  his  shoulders  ;  but  in 
a  few  seconds  he  had  buffeted  through 
them,  and  stood  upon  the  shore.  With  a 
last  effort  I  waved  my  hand  in  adieu  ;  and 
as  I  sank  back  exhausted,  I  heard  a  wild 
cry  burst  from  him,  half  in  triumph,  half 
in  despair.  One  glance  more  I  caught  of 
his  figure  as  we  stood  out  to  sea  ;  he  was 
kneeling  on  the  beach,  bareheaded,  and  as 
if  in  prayer.  The  tears  gushed  from  my 
eyes  as  I  beheld  him,  and  the  long  pent-up 
sorrow  at  last  broke  forth,  and  I  sobbed 
like  a  child. 

"Come,  come,  my  lad,  don't  feel  down- 
hearted," said  the  sailor,  laying  his  hand 
on  my  shoulder,  "The  world  can  scarce 
have  been  over  rough  to  one  so  young  as 
yon. are.  Lift  up  your  head  and  see  what  a 
glorious  morning  we've  got ;  and  there 
conies  the  breeze  over  the  water.  We 
hadn't  such  weather  the  last  time  we  made 
this  trip,  I  assure  you." 

I  looked  up  suddenly,  and  truly  never 
did  such  a  scene  of  loveliness  meet  my  eyes. 
The  sun  had  risen  in  all  his  glorious  bril- 
liancy, and  poured  a  flood  of  golden  light 
across  the  bay,  tipping  with  a  violet  hue 
the  far-off  peaks  of  the  Wicklow  mountains, 
and  lighting  up  the  wooded  valleys  at  their 
feet.  Close  above  us  rose  the  rugged  sides 
of  Howth  in  dark  shadow,  the  frowning' 
rocks  and  gloomy  caverns  contrasting  with 
the  glittering  tints  of  the  opposite  coast, 
where  every  cottage  and  cliff  sparkled  in 


314 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


the  dancing  sunlight.  As  we  rounded  the 
point,  a  cheer  broke  from  the  men,  and 
was  answered  at  once.  1  turned  my  head, 
and  saw  beneath  the  tall  cliffs  the  taper 
spars  of  a  small  vessel,  from  which  the 
sails  hung  listlessly,  half  brailed  to  the 
mast. 

"  There  she  lies,''  said  the  skipper, 
"that's  the  Saucy  Sal,  my  master;  and  if 
you're  any  judge  of  a  craft,  I  think  you'll 
likelier.  Give  way,  lads — give  way;  when 
that  rock  yonder's  covered,  the  tide  is  at 
the  flood." 

The  boat  sprang  to  the  strong  jerk  of 
their  brawny  arms,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
glided  into  the  little  creek  where  the  Saucy 
Sal  lay  at  anchor. 

Lifting  me  up,  they  placed  me  on  board 
the  little  vessel,  while,  without  losing  a 
moment,  they  proceeded  to  ship  the  anchor 
and  shake  out  the  canvas.  In  less  than 
five  minutes  the  white  sails  bent  to  the 
breeze,  the  water  rustled  at  the  prow,  and 
we  stood  out  to  sea. 

"  Where  to  ?  "  said  I,  in  a  faint  whisper, 
to  the  sailor  who  held  the  tiller  beside  me. 

"Down  channel,  sir." 

"  And  then  ?  "  asked  I  once  more — 
"  and  then  ?  " 

"  That  must  depend  on  the  revenue 
cruisers,  I  believe,"  said  he,  more  gruffly, 
and  evidently  indisposed  to  further  ques- 
tioning. 

Alas  !  I  had  too  little  interest  in  life  to 
care  for  where,  and,  laying  my  head  upon 
my  arm,  fell  into  a  heavy  stupor  for  several 
hours. 

The  hot  sun,  the  breeze,  the  unaccus- 
tomed motion,  and,  worse  than  all,  the  co- 
pious libations  of  brandy  and  water  I  w'as 
forced  from  time  to  time  to  take,  gradually 
brought  on  fever,  and,  before  evening,  a 
burning  thirst  and  throbbing  headache 
seized  me,  and  my  senses,  that  hitherto  had 
been  but  lethargic,  became  painfully  acute, 
and  my  reason  began  to  wander.  In  this 
state  I  remained  for  days,  totally  uncon- 
scious of  the  flight  of  time  ;  frightful 
images  of  the  past  pursuing  each  other 
through  my  heated  brain,  and  torturing 
me  with  horrors  unspeakable.  It  was  in 
one  of  my  violent  paroxysms  I  tore  the 
bandage  from  my  side,  and,  reopening  my 
half-healed  wound,  became  in  a  moment 
deluged  with  blood.  I  have  no  memory  of 
aught  that  followed  ;  the  debility  of  al- 
most death  itself  succeeded,  and  I  lay  with- 
out sense  or  motion.  To  this  circum- 
stance I  owed  my  life,  for,  when  I  next 
rallied,  the  fever  had  left  me,  my  senses 
were  unclouded,  my  cheek  no  longer 
burned,  nor  did  my  temples   throb,  and, 


as  the  sea-breeze  played  across  my  iacc,  I 
drank  it  in  with  ecstasy,  and  Celt onoe  more 
the  glorious  sensations  of  returning  health. 
It  was  evening,  the  faint  wind  that  follows 
sunset  scarce  tilled  the  sails  as  we  glided 
along  through  the  waveless  sea.  I  had 
been  listening  to  the  low,  monotonous 
song  of  one  of  the  sailors  as  he  sat  mend- 
ing a  sail  beside  me,  when  suddenly  I 
heard  a  voice  hail  us  from  the  water  ;  the 
skipper  jumped  on  the  half-deck,  and  im- 
mediately replied — the  words  I  could  not 
hear,  but,  by  the  stir  and  movement  about 
me,  I  saw  something  unusual  had  occurred, 
and,  by  ah  effort,  I  raised  my  head  above 
the  bulwark  and  looked  about  me.  A 
|  long,  low  craft  lay  close  alongside  us, 
filled  with  men,  whose  blue  caps  and 
striped  shirts  struck  me  as  strange  and  un- 
common, not  less  than  their  black  belts 
and  cutlasses  with  which  every  man  was 
armed.  After  an  interchange  of  friendly 
greetings  with  our  crew,  for  such  they 
seemed,  although  I  could  not  catch  the 
words,  she  moved  rapidly  past  us. 

"  There's  their  flotilla,  sir,"  said  the 
helmsman,  as  he  watched  my  eye  while  it 
wandered  over  the  water. 

I  crept  up  higher,  and  followed  the  di- 
rection of  his  finger.  Never  shall  I  forget 
that  moment ;  before  me,  scarce,  as  it 
seemed,  a  mile  distant,  lay  a  thousand  boats 
at  anchor,  beneath  the  shadow  of  tall  sand- 
hills, decorated  with  gay  and  gaudy  pen- 
nons, crowded  with  figures  whose  bright 
colors  and  glittering  arms  shone  gorgeously 
in  the  setting  sunlight.  The  bright  waves 
reflected  the  myriad  tints,  while  they  seem- 
ed to  plash  in  unison  with  the  rich  swell  of 
martial  music  that  stole  along  the  water 
with  every  freshening  breeze.  The  shore 
was  covered  with  tents,  some  of  them  sur- 
mounted with  large  banners  that  floated 
out  gayly  to  the  breeze  ;  and,  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach,  were  hosts  of  armed  men  dot- 
ted over  the  wide  plain  beside  the  sea. 
Vast  columns  of  infantry  were  there — caval- 
ry and  artillery,  too — their  bright  arms  glit- 
tering, and  their  gay  plumes  waving,  but 
all  still  and  motionless,  as  if  spell-bound. 
As  I  looked,  I  could  see  horsemen  gallop 
from  the  dense  squares,  and  riding  hur- 
riedly to  and  fro.  Suddenly  a  blue  rocket 
shot  into  the  calm  sky,  and  broke  in  a  mil- 
lion glittering  fragments  over  the  camp ; 
the  deep  roar  of  a  cannon  boomed  out,  and 
then  the  music  of  a  thousand  bands  swelled 
high  and  full,  and  in  an  instant  the  whole 
plain  was  in  motion,  and  the  turf  trembled 
beneath  the  tramp  of  marching  men. 
Regiment  followed  regiment,  squadron 
poured  after  squadron,  as  they  descended 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


315 


the  paths  toward  the  beach,  while  a  long, 
dark  line  wound  through  the  glittering 
mass,  and  marked  the  train  of  the  artillery, 

as  with  caissons  and  ammunition-wagons 
they  moved  silently  over  the  grassy  surface. 

All  that  I  had  ever  conceived  of  warlike 
preparations  was  as  nothing  to  the  gor- 
geous spectacle  before  me.  The  stillness 
of  the  evening  air,  made  tremulous  with  the 
clang  of  trumpets  and  the  hoarse  roar  of 
drums — the  mirror-like  sea,  colored  with 
the  reflection  of  bright  banners  and  wav- 
ing pennants — and  then,  the  simultaneous 
step  of  the  mighty  army,  so  tilled  up  every 
sense,  that  I  feared  lest  all  might  prove  the 
mere  pageant  of  a  dream,  and  vanish  as  it 
came. 

"What  a  glorious  sight!"  cried  I,  at 
length,  half  wild  with  enthusiasm. 
"Where  are  we  ?" 

"  Where  are  we  ! "  repeated  the  skipper, 
smiling.  "  Lookout,  and  you'll  soon  guess 
that.  Are  those  very  like  the  uniforms  of 
King  George  ?  When  did  you  see  steel 
breastplates  and  helmets  before  ?  This  is 
France,  my  lad." 

"France!  France!"  said  I,  stupefied 
with  the  mere  thought. 

"Yes,  to  be  sure.  That's  the  Army  of 
England,  as  they  call  it,  you  see  yonder  ; 
they  are  practicing  the  embarkation.  See 
the  red  rockets  ;  there  they  go — three,  four, 
five,  six — that's  the  signal  ;  in  less  than  half 
an  hour  thirty  thousand  men  will  be  ready  to 
embark.  Mark  how  they  press  on  faster 
and  faster  ;  and  watch  the  cavalry,  as  they 
dismount  and  lead  their  horses  down  the 
step.  See  how  the  boats  pull  in  shore — 
but,  holloa  there  !  we  shall  get  foul  of  the 
gun-boats — already  we've  run  in  too  close. 
Down  helm,  my  lad  ;  keep  the  headland 
yonder  on  your  lee." 

As  he  spoke,  the  light  craft  bent  over  to 
the  breeze,  and  skipped  freely  over  the  blue 
water.  Each  moment  wafted  us  farther 
away  from  the  bright  scene,  and  soon  a 
projecting  point  shut  out  the  whole,  save 
the  swell  of  the  brass  bands  as  it  floated  on 
the  breeze,  and  I  might  have  believed  it  a 
mere  delusion. 

"They  practice  that  maneuver  often 
enough  to  know  it  well,"  said  the  skipper  ; 
"sometimes  at  daybreak — now,  at  noon- 
day— and  again,  as  we  see,  at  sunset ;  and 
no  one  knows  at  what  moment  the  attack 
that  seems  a  feint  may  not  turn  out  to  be 
real.  But  here  we  are  now  alongside  ;  our 
voyage  is  ended." 

The  anchor  plashed  from  our  bow,  while 
a  signal  was  made  from  the  shore,  and  an- 
swered by  us ;  and  in  an  instant  we  were 
surrounded  with  boats. 


"Ha,  Antoine  !"  cried  a  sous-officier  in 
a  naval  uniform,  who  sat  ob  the  gunwale 
of  ;i  long  eight-oar  gig,  and  touched  his 
hat  in  recognition  of  our  skipper.  "  What 
news  •  mitre  mer?' — what  are  we  doing  in 
Ireland  ?" 

"My  young  friend  here  mtifet  tell  you 
that,"  replied  the  skipper,  laughingly,  as 
he  laid  his  hand  on  my  shoulder.  "Let 
me  present  him  to  you — Mr.  Burke,  Lieu- 
tenant Brevix." 

The  lieutenant  saluted  me  politely,  and 
then,  springing  up,  he  jumped  gayly  on 
board  of  us,  and  shook  our  hands  with  great 
appearance  of  cordiality. 

••They'll  want  to  see  you  ashore,  An- 
toine, as  soon  as  may  be  ;  there  are  dis- 
patches going  off  to-night  for  Pari.-,  and 
they'll  be  glad  to  send  the  last  accounts  of 
the  state  of  the  channel." 

"Light  winds  and  no  cruisers  arc  all  I 
have  to  tell  them,  then,"  said  the  skipper. 

The  Lieutenant  now  took  him  aside  , 
they  conversed  for  some  time  in  a  low  tone, 
during  which  I  occupied  myself  by  watch- 
ing the  sentinels  who  paraded  incessantlj 
to  and  fro  along  a  low  wooden  pier  that 
stretched  out  into  the  sea,  and  formed, 
with  a  promontory  at  some  distance,  tt 
small  harbor.  Their  watch  seemed  of 
the  most  vigilant,  if  I  might  judge  from 
the  low  but  continued  cry  which  passed 
from  mouth  to  mouth  of  "  Seniinelle, 
prenez  garde  a  vous  ;  "  while  from  each 
boat,  across  the  harbor,  a  sing-song  note 
chanted  in  response  the  monotonous  sounds, 
"  bon  quart  !"  as  each  quarter  of  an  hour 
stole  past.  These  precautions  against  the 
approach  of  any  strange  craft  extended,  as 
I  a*f  forward  learned,  along  the  entire  coast 
from  Dieppe  to  Ostend  ;  yet  were  they 
sufficient  to  prevent  frequent  visits  from 
the  English  spies,  who  penetrated 
every  quarter  of  the  camp,  and  even  had 
the  hardihood  to  visit  the  theater  of  the 
town,  and  express  loudly  their  disapproba- 
tion of  the  performance. 

"  You'd  better  come  ashore  with  me, 
sir,"  said  the  Lieutenant.  "  Colonel  Dor- 
senne  will  be  glad  to  ask  you  some  ques- 
tions.     What  papers  have  you  got  ?" 

"None,  save  a  few  private  letters,"  said 
I,  somewhat  confused  at  the  question. 

"No  matter,"  said  he,  gayly.  "I  hear 
from  Antoine  you  wish  to  join  the  service 
here.  That  wish  is  your  best  recommenda- 
tion to  the  Colonel  ;  he'll  not  trouble  you 
for  your  reasons,  I  .warrant  you.  Con- 
duct' Monsieur  to  the  quartier-general," 
said  the  Lieutenant  to  a  corporal,  who, 
Avith  his  party  of  four  men,  stood  awaiting 
at  the  landing-place  the  arrival  of  any  one 


316 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


from  the  boats  ;  and  in  an  instant,  the  men 
falling  to  eacii  side  of  me,  took  their  way 
along  the  pier.  I  could  mark  as  we  went 
that  more  than  once  their  looks  were  bent 
on  me  with  an  expression  of  compassion 
and  pity,  which  at  the  time  I  was  at  a  loss 
to  explain.  I  knew  not  then  that  the  road 
we  were  taking  was  that  which  so  often  led 
to  death,  and  that  it  was  only  on  the  very 
day  before  two  Englishmen  were  shot  for 
having  ventured  on  shore  without  author- 
ity. 

The  consigns  of  the  corporal  passed  us 
through  one  post  after  another,  until  Ave 
reached  the  open  plain,  over  which  now 
the  night  was  falling  fast.  A  lantern  at 
some  distance  off  marked  the  quarters  of 
the  officer  on  duty  ;  and  thither  we  di- 
rected our  steps,  and  at  last  reached  a  small 
wooden  hut,  from  within  which  the  sounds 
of  mirth  and  revelry  proceeded.  The  voice 
of  the  sentinel  who  challenged  us  brought 
an  officer  to  the  door,  who,  the  moment  his 
eyes  fell  on  me,  stepped  back,  and,  passing 
his  hand  hurriedly  across  his  forehead^ 
muttered,  half ■  inaudibly,  "Another  al- 
ready ! " 

While  he  retired  into  an  inner  apartment, 
I  had  time  to  look  at  the  singular  decora- 
tions which  adorned  the  walls  of  the  ante- 
chamber ;  around  on  every  side,  and  ar- 
ranged like  trophies,  were  grouped  the 
weapons  of  different  arms  of  the  service, 
surmounted  with  some  device  emblematic 
of  their  peculiar  character,  or  sometimes 
the  mere  record  of  some  famous  battle  in 
which  they  had  pre-eminently  distinguish- 
ed themselves.  Here  were  the  long, 
straight  swords  of  the  cuirassier  crossed 
above  the  steel  breastplate,  and  surmounted 
by  the  heavy  helmet  half  hid  in  leopard 
skin,  and  bearing  the  almost  effaced 
word  "Arcole"  in  front  ;  there  was  the 
short  carbine  of  the  voltigeur,  over 
which  hung  the  red  cap  and  its  gay 
gold  tassel,  with  the  embroidered  motto, 
"  En  avant,"  in  gold  letters  ;  the  long  and 
graceful  weapon  of  the  lancer,  the  curved 
sabre  of  the  chasseur  a  cheval,  even  the  axe 
of  the  pioneer  was  not  wanting,  displaying 
at  a  glance  some  trait  of  every  branch  of 
the  mighty  force  that  bore  the  proud 
designation  of  "  L,a  Grande  Armee." 

I  was  busily  engaged  inspecting  these 
when  the  door  opened,  and  an  officer  in  full 
uniform  appeared  ;  his  figure  was  above  the 
middle  size,  strongly  and  squarely  built, 
and  his  bronze  features  and  high,  bold 
forehead  gave  him  a  soldier-like  air. 

"Your  name,  sir,"  said  he,  quickly,  as 
he  drew  himself  up  before  me,  and  looked 
sternly  in  my  face. 


"  Burke— Thomas  Burke." 

"  Write  it  down,  Auguste,"  said  he5 
turning  to  a  younger  officer,  who  stood,  pen 
in  band,  behind  him. 

"  Your  rank  or  profession  ?" 

"  Gentilkomme,"  said  I,  not  knowing  that 
the  word  expressed  nobility. 

"  Ah,  pardieu,"  cried  he,  as  he  showed 
his  white  teeth  in  a  grin.  "  Produce  your 
papers,  if  you  have  any." 

"I  have  nothing  save  those  letters/'  said 
I,  handing  him  those  of  De  Meudon. 

Scarce  had  his  eye  glanced  over  them, 
when  I  saw  his  color  heighten  and  his 
cheek  tremble. 

"What  !"  cried  he,  "are  you  the  same 
young  Irishman  who  is  mentioned  here  ; 
the  constant  companion  and  friend  of  poor 
Charles  ?  He  was  my  schoolfellow  ;  we 
were  at  Brienne  together.  What  a  mistake 
I  was  about  to  fall  into.  How  did  you 
come,  and  when  ?  " 

Before  I  could  reply  to  any  of  his  many 
questions,  the  naval  officer  Iliad  met  at  the 
harbor  entered,  and  delivered  his  report. 

"Yes,  yes  ;  I  know  it  all,"  said  T)or- 
senne,  hurriedly  throwing  his  eye  over 
it.  "It's  all  right,  perfectly  right,  Brevix. 
Let  Capitaine  Antoine  be  examined  at  the 
quartier- general.  I'll  take  care  of  Mon- 
sieur here  ;  and  to  begin — come  and  join  us 
at  supper." 

Passing  his  arm  familiarly  over  my 
shoulder,  he  led  me  into  the  adjoining  room, 
where  two  other  officers  were  seated  at  a 
table  covered  with  silver  dishes  and  nume- 
rous flasks  of  wine.  A  few  words  sufficed  for 
my  introduction,  and  a  few  glasses  of  cham- 
pagne placed  me  as  thoroughly  at  my  ease 
as  though  I  had  passed  my  life  amongst 
them,  and  never  heard  any  other  conversa- 
tion than  the  last  movement  of  the  French 
army,  and  their  projects  for  future  cam- 
paigns. 

"And  so,"  said  the  Colonel,  after  hear- 
ing from  me  a  short  account  of  the  events 
which  had  induced  me  to  turn  my  eyes  to 
France — "and  so  you'd  be  a  soldier — Eh 
Hen,  I  see  nothing  better  going  myself. 
There's  Davernac  will  tell  you  the  same, 
though  he  hasfost  his  arm  in  the  service." 

"  Old,  pardieu"  said  the  officer  on  my 
right,  "I'm  not  the  man  to  dissuade  him 
from  a  career  I've  ever  loved." 

"  A  vans,  mon  ami,"  said  the  }roung  offi- 
cer who  first  addressed  me  on  my  arrival, 
as  he  held  out  his  glass  and  clinked  it 
against  mine.  "I  hope  we  shall  have  you 
one  of  these  days  as  our  guide  through  the 
dark  streets  of  London.  The  time  may  not 
be  so  distant  as  you  think.  Never  shake 
your  head  at  it." 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS. 


317 


"It  is  not  that  I  would  mean, "  said   I 

eagerlv. 

"  What  then  ?  "  said  the  Colonel.  "  You 
don't  suppose  such  an  expedition  as  ours 
could  fail  of  success  ?" 

"Nor  that  either,"  replied  T.  "]  am 
not  so  presumptuous  as  to  form  an  opinion 
on  the  subject." 

"  Diantre,  then,  what  is  it  ?" 

"Simply  this:  that  whatever  fortune 
awaits  me,  I  shall  never  be  found  fighting 
against  the  country  under  whose  rule  I  was 
born.  England  may  not — alas  !  she  has  not 
been — just  to  us.  But  whatever  resistance 
I  might  have  offered  in  the  ranks  of  my 
countrymen,  I  shall  never  descend  to  in  an 
invading  army.  No,  no  ;  if  France  have 
no  other  war  than  with  England — if  she 
have  not  the  cause  of  continental  liberty  at 
heart — she'll  have  no  blood  of  mine  shed  in 
her  service." 

"  Sacristi  !  "  said  the  Colonel,  sipping 
his  wine  coolly,  "you  had  better  keep  these 
same  opinions  of  yours  to  yourself.  There's 
a  certain  little  general  we  have  at  Paris, 
who  rarely  permits  people  to  reason  about 
the  cause  of  the  campaign.  However,  it 
is  growing  late  now,  and  we'll  not  discuss 
the  matter  at  present.  Auguste,  will  you 
take  Burke  to  your  quarters  ?  and  to-mor- 
row I'll  call  on  the  General  about  his  brevet 
for  the  Polytechnique. " 

I  felt  now  that  1  had  spoken  more  warm- 
ly than  was  pleasing  to  the  party  ;  but  the 
sentiments  I  had  announced  were  only  such 
as  in  my  heart  I  had  resolved  to  abide  by, 
and  I  was  pleased  that  an  opportunity  so 
soon  offered  to  display  them.  I  was  glad 
to  find  myself  at  rest  at  last  ;  and  although 
events  pressed  on  me  fast  and  thick  enough. 
to  have  occupied  my  mind,  no  sooner  had  I 
laid  my  head  on  my  pillow,  than  I  fell  into 
a  sound  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


THE    "ECOLE  MILITAIRE." 


Let  me  now  skip  over  at  a  bound  some 
twelve  months  of  my  life— not  that  they 
were  to  me  without  their  chances  and  their 
changes,  but  they  were  such  as  are  inci- 
dental to  all  boyhood — and  present  myself 
to  my  reader  as  the  scholar  at  the  "Poly- 
technique." What  a  change  had  the  time, 
short  as  it  was,  worked  in  all  my  opinions  ; 
how  completely  had  I  unlearned  all  the 
teaching  of  my  early  instructor,  poor  Dar- 
by ;  how  had  I  been  taught  to  think  that 
glory  was  the  real  element  of  war,  and  that 


Its  cause  was  of  far  less  moment  'ban  its 
conduct. 

The  enthusiasm  v.  hich  animated  every 
corps  of  the    French  army,  fell 

t  hrongh  e<  ery  fiber  of  the  nal  ton,  bad  full 
sway  m  the  little  world  of  the  military 
school.  There,  every  battle  was  known  and 
conned  over  ;  we  called  every  spol  of  our 
playground  by  some  name  greal  in  the  his- 
tory of  glory;  and  among  ourselves  wr< 
sumed  the  titles  of  the  heroes  who  shed 
such  luster  on  their  country ;  and  thus  in 
all  our  boyish  sports  our  talk  was  of  the 
Bridge  of  Lodi— Arcole  Rivoli — Castigli- 
one — the  Pyramids — Mounl  Tabor.  While 
the  names  of  Kleber,  Kellerman,  Massena, 
Desaix.  Murat,  were  adopted  amongst  us, 
but  one  name  .only  remained  unappropriat- 
ed, and  no  one  was  bold  enough  to  assume 
the  title  of  him  whose  victories  were  the 
boast  of  every  tongue.  If  this  enthusiasm 
was  general  amongst  us,  I  felt  it  in  all  its 
fullest  force,  for  it  came  untinged  with  any 
other  thought.  To  me  there  was  neither 
home  nor  family — my  days  passed  over  in 
one  unbroken  calm  ;  no  thought  of  pleasure, 
no  hope  of  happiness  when  the  fete  day 
came  round  ;  my  every  sense  was  wrapped 
up  in  the  one  great  desire — to  be  a  soldier 
— to  have  my  name  known  among  those 
great  men  whose  fame  was  over  Europe — 
to  be  remembered  by  him,  whose  slightest 
word  of  praise  was  honor  itself.  When 
should  that  day  come  for  me  ?  when  should 
I  see  the  career  open  before  me  ? — these 
were  my  earliest  waking  thoughts,  my  last 
at  nightfall. 

If  the  intensity  of  purpose,  the  strong 
current  of  all  my  hopes,  formed  for  me  an 
ideal  and  a  happy  world  within  me,  yet  did 
it  lend  a  trait  of  seriousness  to  my  manner 
that  seemed  like  melancholy  ;  and  while 
few  knew  less  what  it  was  to  grieve,  a  cer- 
tain sadness  in  me  struck  my  companions, 
on  which  they  often  rallied  me,  but  which 
I  strove  in  vain  to  conquer.  It  was  true 
that  at  certain  times  my  loneliness  and  iso- 
lation came  coldly  on  my  heart ;  when  one 
by  one  I  saw  others  claimed  by  their  friends, 
and  hurrying  away  to  some  happy  home, 
where  some  fond  sister  threw  her  arm 
around  a  brother's  neck,  or  some  doting 
mother  clasped  her  son  close  to  her  bosom, 
and  kissed  his  brow,  a  tear  would  find  its 
way  down  my  cheek,  and  I  would  hasten 
to  my  room,  and,  locking  the  door,  sit  down 
alone  to  think,  till  my  sad  heart  grew 
weary,  or  my  sterner  nature  rose  within  me, 
and,  by  an  effort  over  myself,  I  turned  to 
my  studies  and  forgot  all  else.  Meanwhile 
I  made  rapid  progress  ;  the  unbroken  tenor 
of  my  thoughts  gave  me  a  decided  ad  van- 


S18 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


tage  over  the  others,  and  long  before  the 
regular  period  arrive*],  the  day  for  my  final 
examination  was  appointed. 

What  a  lasting  impression  do  some  pas- 
sages of  early  life  leave  behind  them  !  Even 
yet — and  how  many  years  are  past ! — how- 
well  do  I  remember  all  the  hopes  and  fears 
that  stirred  my  heart  as  the  day  drew  near  ; 
how  each  morning  at  sunrise  I  rose  to  pore 
over  some  of  the  books  which  formed  the 
subjects  of  examination  ;  how,  when  the 
gray  dawn  was  only  breaking,  have  I  bent 
over  the  pages  of  Vauba'n,  and  the  calcula- 
tions of  Carnot,  and  with  what  a  sinking 
spirit  have  I  often  found  that  a  night 
seemed  to  have  erased  all  the  fruit  of  a  long 
day's  labor,  and  that  the  gain  of  my  hard- 
worked  intellect  had  escaped  me  ;  and  then 
again,  like  magic,  the  lost  thought  would 
come  back,  my  brain  grow  clear,  and  all 
the  indistinct  and  shadowy  conceptions  as- 
sume a  firm  and  tangible  reality,  which  I 
felt  like  power.  At  such  times  as  these  my 
spirits  rose,  my  heart  beat  high,  a  joyous 
feeling  throbbed  in  every  pulse,  and  an  ex- 
hilaration almost  maddening  elevated  me, 
and  there  was  nothing  I  would  not  have 
dared — no  danger  I  would  not  have  con- 
fronted. Such  were  the  attractions  of  my 
boyish  days,  and  such  the  temperament 
they  bequeathed  to  my  manhood. 

It  was  on  the  16th  of  June,  the  anniver- 
sary of  Marengo,  when  the  drum  beat  to 
arms  in  the  court  of  the  Polytechnique, 
and  soon  after  the  scholars  were  seen  as- 
sembling in  haste  from  various  quarters, 
anxious  to  learn  if  their  prayer  had  been 
acceded  to,  which  asked  permission  for 
them  to  visit  the  "Invalides,"  the  usual  in- 
dulgence on  the  anniversary  of  any  great 
victory. 

As  we  flocked  into  the  court  we  were 
struck  by  seeing  an  orderly  dragoon  stand- 
ing beside  the  head-master,  who  was 
eagerly  perusing  a  letter-  in  his  hands ; 
when  he  had  concluded  he  spoke  a  few 
words  to  the  soldier,  who  at  once  wheeled 
round  his  horse  and.  trotted  rapidly  from 
the  spot. 

Again  the  drum  rolled  out,  and  the 
order  was  given  to  form  in  line  ;  in  an 
instant  the  command  was  obeyed,  and  we 
stood  in  silent  expectation  of  the  news 
which  we  perceived  awaited  us. 

"Messieurs  les  Sieves"  he  began,  when 
stillness  was  restored,  "this  day  being 
the  anniversary  of  the  glorious  battle  of 
Marengo,  the  General  Bonaparte  has  de- 
creed that  a  review  should  he  held  of  the 
entire  school.  Lieutenant-General  d'Au- 
vergnc  will  arrive  here  at  noon  to  inspect 
you,  and  on  such  reports  as  I  shall  give  of 


your  general  conduct,  zeal,  and  proficiency, 

will  t*ec mendations  be  forwarded  to  the 

First  Consul  for  your  promotion." 

A  loud  cheer  followed  (bis  speech.  The 
announcement  far  surpassed  our  most 
anient  Ik. pes,  and  there  was  no  limit  to  our 
enthusiasm;  and  loud  vivas  m  honor  of 
General  Bonaparte,  D'Auvergne,  and  the 
bead-master  himself,  were  heard  on  all 
sides. 

Scarcely  was  the  breakfast  over  when  our 
preparations  began.  What  a  busy  scene  it 
was  :  here,  were  some  brushing  up  their 
uniforms,  polishing  their  sword-hilts,  and 
pipeclaying  their  cross-bets;  there,  might 
be  seen  others,  conning  over  t  lie  directions 
of  field  maneuvers,  and  refreshing  their 
memory  of  the  words  of  command  ;  some, 
practiced  marching  in  groups  along  the 
corridor ;  others,  too  much  excited  by  the 
prospect  before  them,  jumped  madly  from 
place  to  place,  shouting  and  singing  snatches 
of  soldier  songs  ;  but  all  were  occupied.  As 
for  me,  it  was  only  two  days  before  I  had 
obtained  my  grade  of  corporal ;  my  new 
uniform  had  only  just  come  home,  and  I 
put  it  on  for  the  first  time  with  no  incon- 
siderable pride,  indeed  I  could  scarce  turn 
my  eyes,  as  I  walked,  from  the  stripes  upon 
my  arm  that  denoted  my  rank.  Long 
before  the  appointed  time  we  were  all  as- 
sembled, and  when  the  clock  struck  twelve 
and  the  drum  beat  out,  not  a  boy  was 
absent ;  we  were  drawn  up  in  three  columns 
according  to  our  standing,  spaces  being  left 
between  each  to  permit  of  our  wheeling  into 
line  at  the  word  of  command.  The  head- 
master passed  down  our  ranks,  narrowly  in- 
specting our  equipments,  and  scrutinizing 
every  detail  of  our  costume  ;  but  a  stronger 
impulse  than  ordinary  was  now  at  work, 
and  not  the  slightest  irregularity  was  any- 
where detectable.  Meanwhile  the  time 
passed  on,  and  although  every  eye  was 
directed  to  the  long  avenue  of  lime-trees  by 
which  the  general  must  arrive,  nothing 
moved  along  it ;  and  the  bright  streaks  of 
sunlight  that  peeped  between  the  trees  were 
unbroken  by  any  passing  shadow.  Whis- 
pers passed  along  the  ranks,  some  fearing 
he  might  have  forgotten  the  whole  appoint- 
ment, others  suspecting  that  another  review 
elsewhere  had  engrossed  his  attention,  and 
at  last  a  half  murmur  of  dissatisfaction 
crept  through  the  mass,  which  only  the 
presence  of  the  chef  restrained  within  due 
bonds.  One  o'clock  struck,  and  yet  no  rider 
appeared  ;  the  alley  remained  silent  and 
deserted  as  before,  the  minutes  now  seemed 
like  hours — weariness  and  lassitude  ap- 
peared everywhere.  The  ranks  were  broken, 
and  many  wandered  from  their  posts,  and 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


319 


forgot  all  discipline.  At  lust  a  cloud  of 
dust  was  seen  to  rise  at  a  distance,  and 
gradually  it  approached   the  Long  avenue; 

every  eye  was  turned  in  the  direction,  and  in 
an  instant  the 'stragglers  resumed  their 
places,  ami  all  was  attention  and  anxiety, 
while  every  look  pierced  eagerly  the  dense 
cloud,  to  see  whether  it  was  not  the  long- 
wished  For  staff  which  was  coming.  At 
length  the  object  burst  upon  our  sight,;  but 
what  was  our  disappointment  to  see  that  if. 
was' only  a  traveling  carriage  with  four  post- 
horses  that  approached  ;  no  appearance  of  a 
soldier  was  there,  not  one  solitary  dragoon 
— a  half-uttered  shout  announced  our  dis- 
satisfaction, for  we  at  once  guessed  it  was 
merely  some  chance  visitor,  or  perhaps  the 
friends  of  some  of  the  scholars,  who  had 
thus  excited  our  false  hopes. 

The  chef  himself  participated  in  our  feel- 
ing, and  passing  down  the  lines  he  an- 
nounced, that  if  the  General  did  not  ar- 
rive within  ten  minutes,  he  would  himself 
dismiss  us,  and  set  us  at  liberty.  A  cheer 
of  gratitude  received  this  speech,  and  we 
stood  patiently  awaiting  our  liberation, 
when  suddenly,  from  the  guard-house  at 
the  gate,  the  clash  of  arms  was  heard,  and 
the  roll  of  drums  in  salute,  and  the  same 
instant  the  carriage  we  had  seen  rolled  into 
the  court-yard,  and  took  up  its  station  in 
the  middle  of  the  square.  The  next 
moment  the  door  was  opened  and  the  steps 
lowered,  and  an  officer  in  a  splendid  uni- 
form assisted  three  ladies  to  alight.  Be- 
fore we  recovered  from  the  surprise  of  the 
proceeding,  the  master  had  approached  the 
party,  and  by  his  air  of  deference  and  deep 
respect,  denoted  that  they  were  no  ordinary 
visitors  ;  but  our  attention  was  quickly 
drawn  from  the  group  that  now  stood  talk- 
ing and  laughing  together,  for  already  the 
clank  of  a  cavalry  escort  was  heard  coming 
up  the  avenue,  and  we  beheld  the  waving 
plumes  and  brilliant  uniform  of  a  general 
officer's  staff  advancing  at  a  rapid  trot. 
The  drums  now  rolled  out  along  the  lines, 
we  stood  to  arms — the  gallant  cort  ge 
turned  into  the  court  and  formed  in  front 
of  us.  All  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  General 
himself,  the  perfect  beau  ideal  of  an  old  i 
soldier.  He  sat  his  horse  as  firmly  and 
gracefully  as  the  youngest  aide-de-camp  of  [ 
his  suite  ;  his  long  white  hair,  dressed  in 
queue  behind,  was  brushed  back  off  his : 
high  broad  forehead  ;  "his  clear  blue  eye,  j 
mild  yet  resolute,  glanced  over  our  ranks,  : 
and  as  he  bowed  to  the  head-master,  his 
whole  gesture  and  bearing  was  worthy  of 
the  court  of  which  once  he  was  a  brilliant 
member. 

"  I  have  kept  my  young  friends  waiting  I 


for  inc."  said  he,  in  a  low  but  clear  voice, 
"and  it  now  remains  for  me  to  make  the 
only  amende  in  my  power — a    borl   ins] 

Dorsenne,  will  you   take  the  com- 
mand ?" 

I  started  at  the  name,  and  Looked  round, 
and  close  beside  him  stood  the  same  off] 
who  had.so  kindly  received  me  the  daj  I 
Landed  in  Prance;  though  be  looked  at  me, 
however,  I  saw  h<  did  no!  rememb<  r  me, 
and  myspirits  sank  again  as  1  thought  how 
utterly  friend!  ■-.-  and  alone  1  \.     . 

The  Genera]  was  true  to  his  word  in- 
making  the  inspection  as  brief  as  possible; 
he  rode  leisurely  down  the  ranks,  .-topping 
from  time  to  time  to  express  his  satisfac- 
tion, or  drop  some  chance  word  of  encour- 
agement or  advice,  which  we  caught  up 
with  eagerness  and  delight.  Forming  us 
into  line,  he  ordered  his  aide-de-camp  to 
put  us  through  some  of  the  ordinary  parade 
maneuvers,  which  we  knew  as  thoroughly 
as  the  most  disciplined  troops.  During  all 
this  time,  the  group  of  ladies  maintained 
their  position  in  front,  and  seemed  to  watch 
the  review  with  every  semblance  of  in- 
terest. The  General,  too,  made  one  of  the 
party,  and  appeared  from  time  to  time  to 
explain  the  intended  movement,  and  direct 
their  attention  to  the  scene. 

"  Let  them  march  past  in  salute,1 
he,  at  length  ;  "  the  poor  fellows  have  had 
enough  of  it ;  I  must  not  encroach  on  the 
entire  holiday."' 

A  unanimous  cheer  was  the  reply  to  this 
kind  speech,  and  we  formed  in  sections  and 
marched  by  him  at  a  quick-step.  The  chef 
tf'ecole  had  now  approached  the  staff,  and 
wa.s  making  his  report  on  the  boys,  when 
the  General  again  interrupted  him  by  say- 
ing, 

"  Madame  has  expressed  a  wish  to  see 
the  boys  at  their  usual  exercise  of  the  play 
hour.     If  the  request  be  admissible — " 

"Certainly,  man  General,  of  course," 
said  he.  And,  stepping  forward,  he  beck- 
oned to  one  of  the  drummers  to  come  near, 
he  whispered  a  word,  and  the  tattoo  heat 
out,  and,  like  magic,  every  one  sprang  from 
his  ranks,  caps  were  flung  into  the  air,  and 
vivas  rung  out  from  every  quarter  of  the 
court. 

The  sudden  transition  from  discipline  to 
perfect  liberty  added  to  our  excitement. 
and  we  became  half  wild  with  delight.  The 
first  mad  burst  of  pleasure  over,  we  turned, 
as  if  by  instinct,  to  our  accustomed  occu- 
pations :  here  were  seen  a  party  collecting 
for  a  drill,  officers  gathering  and  arranging 
their  men,  and  sergeants  assisting  in  the 
muster ;  there  were  others,  armed  with 
spades  and  shovels,  at  work  on  an  entrench- 


320 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


ment,  while  some  won1  driving  down  stock- 
ades and  fixing  a-  palisade;  another  set, 
more  peaceful  in  their  pursuits,  had  retired 
to  their  little  gardens,  and  were  busy  with 
watering-pots  and  trowels.  The  section  I 
belonged  to  were  the  seniors  of  the  school, 
and  we  had  erected  a  kind  of  fort  which  it 
was  our  daily  amusement  to  defend  and  at- 
tack, the  leadership  on  either  side  being  de- 
termined by  lots.  On  this  day  the  assault 
had  fallen  to  my  command,  and  I  hurried 
hither  and  thither  collecting  my  forces, 
-and  burning  for  the  attack. 

We  were  not  long  in  assembling,  and  the 
garrison  having  announced  their  readiness 
by  the  display  of  a  flag  from  the  ramparts, 
the  assault  began.  I  know  not  why  nor 
wherefore,  but  on  this  day  my  spirits  were 
unusually  high  ;  it  was  one  of  those  chance 
occasions  when  my  temperament,  heated 
and  glowing,  had  elevated  me  in  my  own 
esteem,  and  I  would  have  given  my  life  for 
some  opportunity  of  distinguishing  my- 
self. 

I  led  my  party  on,  then,  with  more  than 
common  daring,  and  though  repulsed  by 
the  besieged,  we  fell  back  only  for  a  mo- 
ment, and.  returned  to  the  assault  deter- 
mined to  succeed  ;  the  others,  animated  by 
the  same  spirit,  fought  as  bravely,  and  the 
cheers  that  rose  from  one  side  were  replied 
to  by  shouts  as  full  of  defiance  from  the 
other.  Heated  and  excited,  I  turned  round 
to  order  an  attack  of  my  whole  force,  when, 
to  my  surprise,  1  beheld  that  the  General 
and  his  staff,  accompanied  by  the  ladies, 
had  taken  their  places  a  short  distaiice  off, 
and  were  become  interested  spectators  of 
the  siege.  This  alone  was  wanting  to 
stimulate  my  efforts  to  the  utmost,  and  I 
now  returned  to  the  fight  with  tenfold  im- 
petuosity. But  if  this  feeling  animated  me, 
it  also  nerved  my  antagonists,  for  their  re- 
sistance rose  with  every  moment,  and  as 
they  drove  us  back  from  their  walls,  cheers 
of  triumph  rang  out  and  proclaimed  the 
victory. 

Already  the  battle  had  lasted  nearly  an 
hour,  and  all  that  was  obtained  was  a 
slight  breach  in  one  of  the  outworks,  too 
small  to  be  practicable  for  assault.  In  this 
state  were  matters  when  the  sound  of  a  cav- 
alry escort  turned  every  eye  toward  the 
entrance  to  the  court-yard,  where  we  new 
beheld  a  squadron  of  the  Landers  rouges 
following  a  numerous  and  .  ill i ant  staff  of 
general  officers.  Scarcely  nad  they  entered 
the  gates  When  a  loud  cry  rent  the  air,  and 
every  voice  shouted,  "  Cest  lull  Cest 
lui !"  and  the  next  moment,  "  Vive  Bo- 
naparte! vive  le  Premier  Consul!"  All 
that  I  had  ever  heard  from  poor  De  Meu- 


don  came  rushing  on  my  mind,  and  my 
heart  swelled  out  till  it  seemed  bursting 
my  very  bosom.  The  next  instant  my  eye 
turned  to  the  little  fort  ;  the  moment  was 
propitious,  for  there  every  cap  was  waving, 
every  look  bent  toward  him.  1  seized  the 
opportunity,  and  pointing  silently  to  the 
breach,  stole  forward  ;  in  a  second  I  was 
beneath  the  grassy  rampart,  in  another  I 
reached  the  breach,  the  next  brought -me 
to  the  top,  where,  with  a  shout  of  victory, 
I  called  on  my  men  to  follow  me.  On  they 
came  rushing — but  too  late  ;  already  the 
garrison  were  upon  me,  and,  overcome  by 
numbers,  I  fought  alone  and  unsupported  ; 
step  by  step  they  drove  me  to  the  edge  of 
!  the  rampart,  already  my  foot  was  on  the 
breach,  when  with  a  spring  I  dashed  at  the 
flag-staff  and  carried  it  with  me  as  I  fell 
headlong  into  the  ditch.  In  a  moment  I 
was  on  my  legs,  but  so  stunned  and  crushed 
that  I  fell  almost  immediately  again  ;  cold 
perspiration  broke  over  my  face  and  fore- 
head, and  I  should  have  fainted  but  that 
they  dashed  some  water  over  me.  As  I 
lay  sick  and  faint  I  lifted  my  eyes,  and 
what  was  my  amazement  to  see,  not  the 
little  companions  of  the  school  about  me, 
but  the  gorgeous  uniform  of  staff  officers, 
and  two  elegantly-dressed  ladies,  one  of 
whom  held  a  cup  of  water  in  her  hand  and 
sprinkled  it  over  my  brow.  I  looked  down 
upon  my  torn  dress,  and  the  sleeve  of  my 
coat  where  the  marks  of  my  rank  were 
already  half  effaced,  and  I  felt  the  tears 
start  into  my  eyes  as  .the  remembrance  of 
my  late  failure  crossed  my  mind  ;  at  the 
instant  the  crowd  opened,  and  a  pale  but 
handsome  face,  where  command  was  tem- 
pered by  a  look  of  almost  womanly  soft- 
ness, smiled  upon  me. 

"C'etait  Men  fait,  mon  enfant"  said  he, 
"  tres  Men  fait,  and  if  you  have  lost  a  coat 
by  the  struggle,  why  I  must  even  see  if  I 
canlt  give  you  another  to  replace  it.  Mon- 
sieur Legrange,  what  is  the  character  of 
this  boy  in  the  school  ?  Is  he  diligent, 
zealous,  and  well  conducted  ?  " 

"Ail  of  the  three,  General,''  said  the 
chef,  bowing  obsequiously. 

"  Let  him  have  his  brevet  ;  to  date  from 
to-day.     Who  are  his  friends  ?  " 

A  whispered  answer  replied  to  this  in- 
quiry. 

"Indeed  !  "  said  the  first  speaker  ;  "  rea- 
son the  more  we  should  take  care  of  him. 
Monsieur,"  continued  he,  turning  toward 
me,  "to-morrow  you  shall  have  your  epau- 
lettes ;  never  forget  how  you  gained  them, 
and  remember  ever  that  every  grade  in  the 
service  is  within  the  reach  of  a  brave  man 
who  does  his  duty."     So  saying  he  passed 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS. 


321 


on,  while  overcome  by  emotion  I  could  not 
speak  or  move. 

"There,  he  is  much  better  now,''  said  a 
soft  voice  near  me;  "you  see  his  color  is 
coming  back."  Hooked  up,  and  there  were 
two  ladies  standing  beside  me.  The  elder 
was  tall  and  elegantly  formed  ;  her  figure, 
which  in  itself  was  most  graceful,  looked 
to  its  full  advantage  by  the  splendor  of  her 
dress  :  there  was  an  air  of  stateliness  in  her 
manner,  which  had  seemed  hauteur,  were 
it  not  for  a  look  of  most  benevolent  soft- 
ness that  played  about  her  mouth  whenever 
she  spoke.  The  younger,  who  might  in 
years  have  seemed  her  daughter,  was  iu 
every  respect  unlike  her  :  she  was  slight 
and  delicately  formed,  her  complexion  and 
her  black  eyes,  shaded  by  a  long  dark 
fringe,  bespoke  the  Provencal,  her  features 
were  beautifully  regular,  and  when  at  rest, 
completely  Greek  in  their  character ;  but- 
each  moment  some  chance  word,  some  pass- 
ing thought,  implanted  a  new  expression, 
and  the  ever-varying  look  of  her  flashing 
eyes,  and  full  round  lips,  played  between  a 
smile  and  that  arch  spirit  that  essentially 
belongs  to  the  fair  daughters  of  the  South. 
It  was  not  until  my  fixed  gaze  had  brought 
a  deep  blush  to  her  cheek,  that  I  felt  how 
ardently  I  had  been  looking  at  her. 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  she,  hurriedly,  "he's 
quite  well  now,*'  and  at  the  same  moment 
she  made  a  gesture  of  impatience  to  pass 
on.  But  the  elder  held  her  arm  close 
within  her  own,  as  she  whispered  with 
something  of  half  malice—"  But  stay, 
Marie,  I  should  like  to  hear  his  name. 
Ah ! "  cried  she,  starting  in  affected  sur- 
prise, "how  flushed  you  are ;  there  must 
be  something  in  the  air  here,  so  Ave  had 
better  proceed."  And  with  a  soft  smile 
and  a  courteous  motion  of  her  hand  she 
passed  on. 

I  looked  affcor  them  as  they  went  ;  a 
strange,  odd  feeling  stirred  within  my 
heart— a  kind  of  wild  joy  with  a  mingled 
sense  of  hope  too  vague  to  catch  at.  I 
watched  the  drooping  feather  of  her  bon- 
net, and  the  folds  of  her  dress  as  they  flut- 
tered in  the  wind,  and  when  she  disap- 
peared from  my  sight,  I  could  scarce  be- 
lieve that  she  was  not  still  beside  me,  and 
that  her  dark  eyes  did  not  look  into  my 
very  soul.  But  already  my  companions 
crowded  about  me,  and  amid  a  hundred 
warm  congratulations  and  kind  wishes  I 
took  my  way  back  to  the  college. 

Scarcely  was  breakfast  over  the  following 
morning,  when  the  order  arrived  for  my 
removal  from  the  scholar  quarter  of  the 
Polytechnique  to  that  occupied  by  the 
cadets.  A  small  tri-colorcd  cockade  affixed 
vol.  i. — 21 


to  my  hat  was  the  only  emblem  of  my  new 
rank;  but  simple  as  it  was  no  decoration 

ever  attracted  more  envy  and  admiration 
from  the  beholders,  nor  gave  more  pride  to 
the  wearer,  than  that  knot  of  ribbon. 

"At  number  thirteen  you'll  find  your 
quarters,  Monsieur  le  Cadet.''  said  a  ser- 
geant, as  he  presented  me  with  the  official 
order.  I  remember  at  this  very  hour  what 
a  thrill  his  military  salute  sent  through 
me.  It  was  the  first  acknowledgment  of 
my  grade — the  firsi  recognition  that  I  was 
no  longer  a  mere  schoolboy.  I  had  not  mtieii 
time  granted  me  to  indulge  such  sensa- 
tions, for  already  my  schoolfellows  had 
thronged  round  me,  and  overwhelmed  mo 
with  questions  and  felicitations. 

"  Ah  !  what  a  fortunate  fellow — no 
examination  to  go  through — has  his  giad( 
given  him  without  toiling  for  it— is  it  the 
cavalry,  Burke— are  you  a  clteval — when  do 
you  join  ?— where  is  your  regiment  ? — 
shall  we  see  you  again  ? — won't  you  write 
to  us  all  about  the  corps  when  you  join 
them  ? — who  is  your  comrade  ? — yes,  tell 
us  that  ;  who  is  he  ?  " 

" Ma  foi,"  said  I,  "I  know  not  more 
than  yourselves.  You  are  all  aware  to  what 
an  accident  I  owe  my  promotion.  Where  I 
am  destined  for,  or  in  what  corps,  I  can't 
tell  ;  and  as  to  my  comrade —  " 

"  Ah!  take  care  he's  no  tyrant,"  said  one. 
•  "Yes,  yes,"  cried  another — "show  him 
you  know  "what  a  small  sword  is  at  once." 

"  Burke  -won't  be  trifled  with,"  cried  a 
third. 

And  then  followed  a  very  chorus  of 
voices,  each  detailing  some  atrocity  com- 
mitted by  the  cadets  on  their  newly-joined 
associates.  One  had  a  friend  wounded  in 
the  side  the  very  day  he  joined ;  another 
knew  some  one  who  was  thrown  out  of  a 
window  ;  here  was  an  account  of  a  delicate 
boy  who  passed  an  entire  night  in  the  snow, 
and.  died  of  a  chest  disease  three  weeks 
after  ;  there,  a  victim  to  intemperance  met 
his  fate  in  the  orgie  that  celebrated  his 
promotion.  This  picture,  I. confess,  did 
somewhat  damp  the  ardor  of  my  first 
impressions;  and  I  took  leave  of  my  old 
friends  with  not  less  feeling  of  affection, 
that  I  doubted  how  much  kindness-  and 
good  feeling  I  had  to  expect  from  my  new 
ones.  In  this  mood  of  mind  I  shook  their 
hands  for  the  last  time,  and  followed  the 
soldier  who  carried  my  baggage  to  the  dis- 
tant quarter  of  the  cede.  As  I  entered  the 
large  court  by  the  richly  ornamented  gate, 
whose  bronzed  tracery  and  handsome  carv- 
ing dated  from  the  time  of  Louis  XIV., 
my  heart  swelled  with  conscious  pride. 
The  facade  of  the  square,  unlike  the  simple 


322 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


front  of  the  scholars'  quarters,  was  beauti- 
fully architectural  ;  massive  consoles  sup- 
ported the  windows,  and  large  armorial 
insignia,  cut  on  stone,  surmounted  the 
different  entrances  :  but  what  most  capti- 
vated my  spirits  and  engaged  my  attention 
was  a  large  ilag  in  the  center,  from  which 
waved  the  broad  ensign  of  France,  beside 
which  a  sentinel  paced  to  and  fro.  He 
presented  arms  as  I  passed  ;  and  the  click 
of  his  musket,  as  he  stood  erect,  sent  a 
thrill  through  me,  and  made  my  very 
fingers  tingle  with  delight. 

"  This  is  number  thirteen,  sir,"'  said  the 
soldier,  as  we  arrived  in  front  of  one  of  the 
doorways  ;  and  before  I  could  reply,  the 
door  opened,  and  a  young  officer,  in  the 
uniform  of  an  infantry  regiment,  appeared. 
He  was  about  to  pass  out,  when  his  eye 
resting  on  the  luggage  the  soldier  had  just 
placed  beside  him,  he  stopped  suddenly, 
and,  touching  his  cap,  asked,  in  a  polite 
tone, 

"  Not  Mr.  Burke,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  bowing  in  return. 

"Eh,  moncamarade,"  said  he,  holding  out 
his  hand,  "delighted  to  see  you.  Have 
you  breakfasted"?  Well,  you'll  find  all 
ready  for  you  in  the  quarters.  I  shall  be 
back  soon.  I'm  only  going  to  a  morning 
drill,  which  won't  last  half  an  "-hour;  so 
make  yourself  at  home,  and  we'll  meet 
soon  again."  ■ 

So  saying,  he  once  more  saluted  me,  and 
passed  on.  "  Not  very  like  what  I  feared," 
thought  I,  as  I  entered  the  quarters,  whose 
look  of  neatness  and  comfort  so  pleasantly 
contrasted  with  my  late  abode.  I  had 
barely  time  to  look  over  the  prints  and 
maps  of  military  subjects  which  ornamented 
the  walls,  when  my  new  friend  made  his 
appearance. 

"No  parade  to-day,  thank  Heaven,"  said 
he,  throwing  down  his  cap  and  sabre,  and 
lolling  at  full  length  on  the  little  camp 
sofa.  "Now,  mon  cher  camarade,  let  us 
make  acquaintance  at  once,  for  our  time  is 
likely  to  be  -of  the  shortest.  My  name  is 
Tascher,  an  humble  sous-lieutenant  of  the 
21st  Regiment  of  Foot.  As  much  a  stran- 
ger in  this  land  as  yourself,  I  fancy,"  con- 
tinued he,  after  a  slight  pause,  "  but  very 
well  contented  to  be  adopted  by  it." 

After  this  opening,  ho  proceeded  to 
inform  me  that  he  was  the  nephew  of 
Madame  Bonaparte — her  sister's  only  son — 
who,  at  his  mother's  death,  left  Giiada- 
loupe,  and  came  over  to  France,  and 
became  an  Sieve  of  the  Polytechnique. 
There  he  had  remained  live  years,  and,  after 
a  severe  examination,  obtained  his  brevet  in 
an  infantry  corps ;    his  uncle    Bonaparte 


having  shown  him  no  other  favor  nor  affec- 
tion thai)  a  severe  reprimand  on  one  occa- 
sion for  some  boyish  freak,  when  all  the 
other  delinquents  escaped  scot  free. 

"I  am  now  under  orders  for  service," 
said  he  ;  "  but  where  for,  and  when,  I  can't 
tell.  But  this  I  know,  that  whatever  good 
fortune  may  be  going  a-begging,  1,  Lieuten- 
ant Tascher,  am  very  likely  to  get  only  the 
hem  of  the  garment." 

There  was  a  tone  of  easy  and  frank  good- 
nature in  all  he  said,  which  at  once  dis- 
posed me  to  like  the  young  Creole  ;  and  we 
spent  the  whole  afternoon  recounting  our 
various  adventures  and  fortunes,  and  before 
night  came  on  were  sworn  friends  for  life. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE  "TUILERIES"  IN  1803. 

The  life  of  the  cadet  differed  little  from 
that  of  the  schoolboy.  The  same  routine  of 
study,  the  same  daily  round  of  occupation 
and  duty  were  his.  Until  drafted  to  the 
particular  corps  to  which  he  might  be  ap- 
pointed, he  only  could  absent  himself  from 
the  college  by  special  leave  ;  and  the  most 
rigid  of  all  military  discipline  prevailed 
during  the  brief  interval  which  was  to  fit 
him  for  the  arduous  life  of  a  soldier.  The 
evenings,  however,  were  at  our  disposal ; 
and  what  a  pleasure  it  was — the  fatigue  of 
the  day-  over — to  wander  forth  into  the 
city — that  brilliant  Paris — near  which  I 
had  lived  so  long,  and  yet  had  seen  so  lit- 
tle of. 

At  first  the  splendor  of  the  shops,  the 
unceasing  flow  of  population,  the  might 
and  grandeur  of  the  public  buildings,  at- 
tracted all  my  attention  ;  and  when  these 
wore  off  in  novelty,  I  could  still  wander 
with  delight  through  the  gay  gardens  of 
the  Tuileries,  and  watch  the  sparkling 
fountains  as  they  splashed  in  the  pale  moon- 
light, and  look  upon  the  happy  children 
who  played  about  them,  their  mewy  laugh- 
ter ringing  through  the  water's  plash. 
What  a  fairy  scene  it  was  to  watch  the 
groups  as  they  passed  and  repassed — came 
and  went,  and  disappeared — amid  those 
dark  alleys,  where  the  silent  footstep  did 
not  mar  the  sounds  of  happy  voices  ;  and 
then,  how  have  I  turned  from  these,  to 
throw  a  wistful  glance  toward  the  palace 
windows,  where  some  half-closed  curtain, 
from  time  to  time,  would  show  the  golden 
sparkle  of  a  brilliant  luster,  or  the  rich 
frame  of  a  mirror  ;  mayhap  an  open  sasn 
would  for  a  moment  display  some  fair  form, 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


323 


the  outline  only  seen  as  she  leaned  on  the 
balcony,  and  drank  in  the  balmy  air  of  the 
mild  evening,  while  the  soft  swell  of  music 
would  float  from  the  gorgeous  saloon,  and 
falling  on  my  ear,  set  me  a-dreaming  of 
pleasures  my  life  had  never  known. 
My  utter  loneliness  pressed  deeper  on  me 
everyday  ;  for,  while  each  of  my  companions 
had  friends  and  relatives,  among  whom 
their  evenings  were  passed,  I  was  friendless 
and  alone.  The  narrowness  of  my  means 
— I  had  nothing  save  my  pay — prevented 
my  frequenting  the  theater,  or  even  ac- 
cepting such  invitations  as  the  other  cadets 
pressed  upon  me  ;  and  thus  for  hours  long 
have  I  sat  and  watched  the  windows  of  the 
palace,  weaving  to  myself  stories  of  that 
ideal  world  from  which  my  humble  for- 
tune debarred  me. 

It  had  been  years  since  the  Tuileries 
exhibited  anything  resembling  the  state 
that  formerly  prevailed  in  that  splendid 
palace ;  but,  at  the  period  I  speak  of,  Bo- 
naparte had  just  been  chosen  Consul  for 
life,  and  already  the  organization  of  his 
household  had  undergone  a  most  consider- 
able alteration.  In  the  early  years  of  the 
Consulate,  a  confused  assemblage  of  aides- 
de-camp,  whose  heavy  gait  and  loud  speech 
betokened  less  the  court  than  the  camp, 
were  the  only  attendants  on  his  person. 
He  lived  in  the  center  pavilion,  as  if  in  a 
tent  in  the  midst  of  his  army  ;  but  now  he 
inhabited  the  splendid  suite  of  rooms  to 
the  left  of  the  pavilion,  de  Vhorlogc,  as  it 
is  called,  which  stretch  away  toward  the 
river.  The  whole  service  of  the  palace  was 
remodeled  ;  and,  without  Avounding  those 
prejudices  that  attached  to  the  times  of  the 
deposed  monarchy  by  adopting  the  titles  of 
chamberlain,  or  gentlemen  of  the  chamber, 
he  gradually  instituted  the  ceremonial  of  a 
Court  by  preferring  to  the  posts  about  his 
person  those  whose  air  and  manners  savor- 
ed most  of  the  higher  habitudes  of  society, 
and  whose  families  were  distinguished 
among  the  noblesse  of  the  kingdom. 

Duroc,  the  chief  aide-de-camp  of  the 
General,  was  appointed  governor  of  the 
palace  ;  and  it  was  said  that  the  Consul 
himself  sfudied  all  the  ancient  ceremonial 
of  the  old  Court,  and  ordained  that  every 
etiquette  of  royalty  should  be  resumed  with 
the  most  unerring  accuracy.  The  cham- 
berlains were  represented  by  prefects  of  the 
palace,  and  Josephine  had  her  ladies  of 
honor,  like  any  princess  of  the  blood  royal. 

The  Consul,  still  imitating  the  observ- 
ances of  the  Bourbons,  h&dhis petits  levers 
and  his  grand  receptions  ;  and  if  the  new- 
created  functionaries  possessed  little  of 
the  courteous  ease  and  high-bred  habitudes 


of  the  old  Court,  there  was  in  their  hard- 
won  honors — most  of  them  promoted  on 
the  very  field  of  battle— thai  which  better 
suited    the   prejudices  of  the  period,  and 

scarcely  less  became  t  lie  gilded  saloons  of  the 
Tuileries. 

Like  all  newly  organized  societies,  the 
machinery  worked  ill  at  first.  Few,  if  any 
of  them,  had  ever  seen  a  court  ;  and  the 
proud  but  yet   respectful  obedience  which 

characterized  the  French  gentleman  in  the 
presence  of  his  sovereign  was  converted  in- 
to an  obsequious  and  vulgar  deference 
toward  Bonaparte,  equally  opposite  to  the 

true  type,  as  it  was  foreign  to  the  habits  of 
the  blunt  soldier  who  proffered  it.  But 
what,  after  all,  signified  these  blemishes  ? 
There  was  beauty — never  in  the  brighter 
annals  of  France  had  more  lovely  women 
filled  those  gorgeous  saloons  ;  there  v, 
nius — heroism — the  highest  chivalry  of  the 
great  nation  could  scarce  vie  with  the  proud 
deeds  of  those  grouped  around  him- -the 
mighty  one,  on  whom  each  eye  was  fixed  : 
and  if,  as  M.  Talleyrand  remarked,  there 
were  those  who  knew  not  how  to  walk  on 
the  waxed  floor  of  a  palace,  few  could  tread 
more  finely  the  field  of  battle,  and  step 
with  firmer  foot  the  path  that  led  to  glory. 
Yet  with  all  the  First  Consul's  pride  m 
those  whose  elevation  to  rank  and  dignity 
was  his  own  work,  his  predilections  leaned 
daily  more  and  more  toward  the  high  and 
polished  circles  of  the  Faubourg  St.  Ger- 
main. The  courteous  and  easy  politeness 
of  Talleyrand,  the  chivalrous  and  courtly 
bearing  of  the  Count  de  Narbonne,  and 
the  graceful  elegance  of  Segur's  manners, 
formed  too  striking  a  contrast  with  the 
soldier-like  rudeness  of  the  newly-promo- 
ted generals,  not  to  make  a  profound  im- 
pression on  one  who  could,  in  the  deepest 
and  weightiest  concerns  of  life,  take  into 
calculation  the  most  minute  and  trivial 
circumstances. 

This  disparity,  remarkable  as  it  was 
among  the  men,  was  still  more  so  in  the 
ladies  of  the  Court,  few  of  those  newly 
elevated  having  tact  enough  either  to  imi- 
tate successfully  the  polished  usages  of  the 
old  nobility,  or  resolution  sufficient  to 
maintain  their  original  habits  without 
blushing  at  their  own  want  of  breeding. 

If  I  have  been  led  somewhat  from  the 
current  of  my  own  story  by  this  digression, 
it  is  merely  that  I  may  passingly  note  down 
some  of  the  features  of  the  period — one  of 
the  most  remarkable  in  the  history  of  mod- 
ern Europe,  and  one  which  already,  to  the 
far-seeing  eye  of  some,  betokened  the 
speedy  return  to  these  very  institutions  of 
monarchy,  to  uproot  which  cost  the  best 


324 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


blood  of  France,  and  a  revolution  the  most 
terrific  the  world  has  ever  witnessed. 

And  now,  looking  back  on  the  great 
career  of  that  great  man,  no  portion  of  his 
history  can,  perhaps,  present  anything  to 
compare  with  the  splendor  of  the  Consu- 
late. A  long  succession  of  vietories — the 
spoils  of  half  Europe— glory  to  very  satiety 
had  intoxicated  the  nation— a  country 
flourishing  in  every* element  of  prosperity 
— social  order  restored — a  high  position 
amid  surrounding  nations— and  everything 
that  could  gratify  national  ambition  ob- 
tained— France  stood  at  the  very  pinnacle 
of  her  greatness.  Even  the  splendor  of 
those  names  who  represented  the  various 
states  of  Europe  at  her  Court  seemed  to  at- 
test her  supremacy.  The  stately  and  pol- 
ished Whitworth,  conspicuous  by  the 
elegance  of  his  appearance  and  the  perfec- 
tion of  his  aristocratic  bearing  ;  the  Rus- 
sian Ambassador,  Marcoff ;  the  Chevalier 
Azara,  the  Minister  of  Spain,  the  Courtier 
of  Europe  ;  Baron  de  Cetto,  the  Envoy  of 
Saxony,  one  of  the  most  distinguished, 
both  by  manners  and  ability,  in  the  whole 
diplomatic  circle,  were  among  those  who 
frequented  the  First  Consul's  levces;  which 
already,  in  the  splendor  of  costume  and  the 
gorgeous  display  of  uniform,  rivaled  the 
most  sumptuous  days  of  the  monarchy. 

All  the  long  forgotten  ceremonial  of  a 
Court  was  restored.  Dinners,  most  splen- 
did in  all  the  array  of  pomp -and  grandeur, 
were  given  every  week  ;  fetes,  that  vied 
with  the  luxurious  era  of  Louis  XIV.  him- 
self, took  place  frequently  ;  and  Paris  be- 
came the  rendezvous  for  ail  Europe,  curious 
to  behold  the  rich  trophies  of  successful 
wars,  and  mix  in  the  delight  of  a  capital 
where  pleasure  reigned  triumphant. 

The  theater  presented  an  array  of  genius 
and  talent  hitherto  unequaled.  Talma 
and  Mademoiselle  Mars  were  -in  the  very 
zenith  of  their  fame,  and  obtained  a  large 
share  of  Bonaparte's  favor,  whose  tastes 
were  eminently  dramatic.  In  a  word,  a 
new  era  had  commenced,  and  every  class 
and  walk,  every  condition  of  man,  seemed 
resolved  to  recompense  itself,  by  the  pur- 
suit of  pleasure,  for  the  long  and  dark 
night  of  trouble  through  which  it  had 
passed. 

While,  therefore,  the  Court  of  the  First 
Consul  partook  of  such  features  as  those, 
the  circle  of  Josephine  possessed  attractions 
totally  different.  There,  amid  her  in- 
timate friends,  all  the  charm  and  fascina- 
tion of  French  society  held  sway  ;  each 
evening  saw  assembled  round  her  the  wit- 
tiest and  most  polished  persons  of  the  day  ; 
the  gay  and  spirited  talkers  who  so  pre-em- 


inently gave  the  tone  to  Parisian  society; 
the  handsomest  women,  and  the  most  dis- 
tinguished of  t  lie  litterateurs  of  the  period, 
found  ready  access  to  one  whose  own  powers 
of  pleasing  have  left  an  undying  impression 
on  some  who  even  still  can  recall  these 
delightful  moments.  Such  were,  in  brief, 
the  leading  features  of  the  Court  then  held 
in  the  Tuileries,  and  such  the  germ  of  that 
new  order  of  things  which  was  so- soon  to 
burst  forth  upon  astonished  Europe,  under 
the  proud  title  of  The  Empire. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


A    SURPRISE. 


I  was  sitting  one  evening  alone  in  my 
quarters,  an  open  volume  before  me,  in 
which  I  persuaded  myself  I  was  reading, 
while  my  thoughts  were  far  otherwise  en- 
gaged, when  my  comrade  Tascher  sudden- 
ly entered  the  room,  and  throwing  himself 
into  a  chair,  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  pas- 
sionate impatience, 

"  Pardieu!  it  is  a  fine  thing  to  be  nephew 
to  the  first  man  in  France  ! " 

"What  has  happened  ?"  said  I,  when  I 
perceived  that  he  stopped  short  without  ex- 
plaining further. 

"  What  has  happened  ! — enough  to  drive 
one  mad.  Just  hear  this.  You  know  how 
fond  I  am  of  Paris,  and  how  naturally  I 
must  wish  to  be  near  the  Tuileries,  where 
I  have  the  entree  to  my  aunt's  soirees. 
Well,  there  was  a  vacancy  occurred  yester- 
day in  the  liuitieme  hussars — a  corps  al- 
ways stationed  here  or  at  Versailles — and  as 
I  am  longing  to  have  a  cavalry  grade,  I 
waited  on  Madame  Bonaparte  to  solicit  her 
interest  in  my  favor.  She  promised  of 
course.  The  General  was  to  breakfast  with 
her,  and  it  was  all  settled.  She  was  to  ask 
him  for  the  promotion  ;  and  I  had  not  a 
doubt  of  success.  In  fact,  if  I  must  con- 
fess, I  told  two  or  three  of  my  friends,  and 
actually  received  their  congratulations.  It 
so  fell  out,  however,  that  he  did  not  come 
to  breakfast,  nor  dinner  either — there's  no 
knowing  that  man  ;  but  what  think  you, 
he  walked  in,  this  evening,  just  as  we  were 
preparing  to  act  a  proverb.  Such  a  scene 
as  it  was,  to  be  sure.  No  one  expected 
him.  Most  of  us  Avere  dressed  up  in  cos- 
tumes of  one  kind  or  other  ;  and  I,  ma  foi, 
ridiculous  enough,  I  suppose — I  was  cos- 
tumed like  a  galley-slave.  He  stood  for  a 
second  or  two  at  the  door  with  his  arms 
folded,  and  his  stern  eyes  wandering  ovei 
the    whole    room.      There    was    not    one 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


325 


amongst  us  would  not  have  wished  himself 
many  a  mile  away-:  even  my  aunt  herself 
seemed  quite  confused,  and  blushed,  and 

grew  pale,  and  blushed  again. 

"  '  Ha  ! '  cried  he  at  last,  in  his  dry,  short 
voice.  'Pardon,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  I 
have  made  a  mistake-— I  believed  I  was  in 
the  palace  of  the  Tuileries,  and  I  find  this 
is  the  Porte  St.  Martin.5 

"  '  Fi  done,  Bonaparte  ! '  cried  my  aunt, 
blushing,  while  with  one  of  her  sweetest 
smiles  she  endeavored  to  bring  him  back  to 
good  humor.  '  See  how  you  have  fright- 
ened Madame  de  Narbonne — she'll  never  be 
able  to  play  the  miller's  wife  ;  and  Marie 
here,  her  tears  will  wash  away  all  her 
rouge.' 

"  '  And  this  amiable  gentleman — what  is 
to  become  of  him  ? '  said  he,  interrupting 
her,  while  he  laid  his  hand  on  my  shoulder, 
and  I  stood  trembling  like  a  culprit  beside 
him. 

"  '  Ah,  there  ! — that's  Tascher,'  said  she 
laughingly  ;  and  as  if  happy  to  escape  from 
her  greater  embarrassment  by  any  means, 
she  continued  :  '  Your  question  comes,  in- 
deed, quite  a  propos.  I  have  a  request  to 
make  in  his  favor  ;  there's  a  vacancy  in  the 
huitieme,!  think  it  is — eh,  Edward?'  I 
nodded  slightly,  for  if  my  life  depended  on 
it,  I  could  not  have  uttered  a  word.  '  Now, 
I  am  sure  he's  been  sous-lieutenant  long 
enough,  and  in  the  infantry  too.' 

"  '  Can  you  ride  well,  sir  ? '  said  he, 
turning  to  me  with  a  half  frown  on  his  pale 
face. 

"'Yes,  General,'  replied  I,  with  my 
heart  almost  "choking  me  as  I  spoke. 

"  '  Well,  sir,  you  shall  be  employed,  and 
in  a  service  worthy  your  present  tastes,  if  I 
may  judge  from  your  costume.  A  detach- 
ment of  prisoners  is  to  march  to-morrow 
from  this  for  the  Bagne  de  Brest — hold 
yourself  in  readiness  to  accompany  the  mil- 
itary escort.  Go,  sir,  and  report  yourself 
to  your  colonel.'  He  waved  his  hand  when 
he  had  finished,  and  how  I  left  the  room, 
reached  the  street,  and  found  myself  here, 
hang  me  if  I  can  tell  you." 

"And  is  there  no  help  for  this  ?*  must 
you  really  go  ?  "  said  I,  compassionating 
the  dejected  and  sorrow-struck  expression 
of  the  youth. 

"Must  I  go!  Ma  foi,  you  know  little 
of  this  dear  uncle  of  mine,  if  you  ask  such 
a  question.  When  once  his  mind's  made 
up,  anything  like  an  attempt  to  argue  only 
confirms  his  resolve.  The  best  thing  now 
is,  to  obey  and  say  nothing  ;  for  if  my  aunt 
remonstrates,  I  may  spend  my  life  in  garri- 
son there  over  the  galley-slaves." 

A  knocking  at  the  outer  door  interrupted 


our  conversation   at  this  moment,   and  a 
corpora]  of  i  he  staff  entered  u  i  h  a  dispatch- 
bag  at  hie  waist. 
"  Sous- Lieutenant    Taschi  1   he, 

touching  his  cap.  and  presenting  a  large 
official-looking  letter  to  my  companion, 
who  threw  it  from  him  on  the  table,  and 
turned  away  to  hide  his  confusion.  "Mon- 
sieur Burke,"  said  the  corporal,  withdraw- 
ing another  ominous  document  from  his 
leathern  pouch. 

"Diantre!"  cried  Tascher,  turning 
quickly  about,  "have  I  got  you  into  a 
scrape  as  avcII  as  myself  ?  I  remember  now 
the  General  asked  mo  who  was  my  '  com- 
rade.'" 

I  took  the  paper  with  a  trembling  hand, 
and  tore  it  open.  The  first  line  was  all  I 
could  read  ;  it  was  a  war-office  official,  ap- 
pointing me  to  the  vacant  commission  in 
the  huitieme  hussars. 

Tascher" s  hand  shook  as  he  leaned  on  my 
shoulder,  and  I  could  feel  a  convulsive 
twitching  of  his  fingers  as  his  agitation  in- 
creased ;  but  in  a  second  or  two  he  re- 
covered his  self-command,  and  taking  my 
hand  within  both  of  his,  he  said,  while 
the  large  tears  were  starting  from  his  eyes, 

"I'm  glad  it's  you,  Burke,"  and  then 
turned  away,  unable  to  say  more. 

It  was  some  time  before  I  could  bring  my- 
self to  credit  my  good  fortune.  Had  I  been 
free  to  choose,  I  could  have  desired  nothing 
better  nor  more  to  my  liking  ;  and  when  I 
succeeded  at  length,  then  came  my  embar- 
rassment at  my  poor  friend's  disappoint- 
ment, which  must  have  been  still  more 
poignant  as  contrasted  with  my  success. 
Tascher,  however,  had  all  the  Creole  warmth 
of  temperament.  The  first  burst  over,  he 
really  enjoyed  the  thought  of  my  promo- 
tion ;  and  we  sat  up  the  entire  night  talk- 
ing over  plans  for  the  future,  and  making 
a  hundred  resolves  for  contingencies,  some 
of  which  never  arose,  and  many,  when 
they  came,  suggested  remedies  of  their  own. 

At  day-break  my  comrade's  horses  came 
to  the  door,  and  a  mounted  orderly  attend- 
ed to  accompany  him  to  the  prison  where 
the  convoy  were  assembled.  We  shook 
hands  again  and  again.  He  was  leaving 
what  had  been  his  home  for  years.  Paris — 
the  gay  and  brilliant  city,  in  whose  plea- 
sures he  had  mixed,  and  whose  fascinations 
he  had  tasted.  I  was  parting  from  one  with 
whom  I  had  lived  in  a  friendship  as  close 
as  can  subsist  between  two  natures  essen- 
tially different — we  both  were  sad. 

"Adieu,  Burke  ! "  said  he,  as  he  waved 
his  hand  for  the  last  time.  "  I  hope  you'll 
command  the  huitieme  when  next  we 
meet." 


326 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


I  hurried  into  the  quarters,  which  al- 
ready seemed  lonely  and  deserted,  so  soon 
does  desolation  throw  its  darkening  shadow 
before  it.  The  sword  that  had  hung  above 
the  chimney  crosswise  on  my  own  was 
gone  ;  the  shako,  too,  and  the  pistols  were 
missing:  thevacanl  chair  stood  opposite  to 
mine ;  and  the  isolation  I  felt  became  so 
painful,  that  1  wandered  out  into  the  .open 
air,  glad  to  escape  the  sight  of  objects, 
everyone  of  which  only  suggested  how  ut- 
terly alone  I  stood  in  the  world,  when  the 
departure  of  one  friend  had  left  me  com- 
panion le.-s. 

No  one  save  he  who  has  experienced  it 
can  form  any  just  idea  of  the  intense  hold 
a  career  of  any  kind  will  take  of  the  mind 
of  him  who, 'without  the  ties  of  country, 
of  kindred,  and  of  friends,  devotes  all  his 
energies  in  one  direction.  The  affections 
that  might,  under  other  influences,  have 
grown  up — the  hopes  that  might  have 
flourished  in  the  happy  sphere  of  a  home, 
become  the  springs  of  a  more  daring  ambi- 
tion. In  proportion  as  he  deserts  other 
roads  in  life,  the  path  he  has  struck  out  for 
himself  seems  wider  and  grander,  and  his 
far-seeing  eye  enables  him  to  look  into 
the  long  distance  with  a  prophetic  vision, 
where  are  rewards  for  his  hard-won  victo- 
ries, the  recompense  of  long  years  of  toil. 
The  pursuit,  become  a  passion,  gradually 
draws  all  into  its  vortex  ;  and  that  success 
which  at  first  he  believed  only  attainable  by 
some  one  mighty  effort,  seems  at  last  to 
demand  every  energy  of  his  life  and  every 
moment  of  his  existence  ;  and  as  the  miser 
would  deem  his  ruin  near,  should  the  most 
trifling  opportunity  of  gain  escape  him,  so 
does  the  ambitious  man  feel  that  every  inci- 
dent in  life  must  be  made  tributary  to-  the 
success  which  is  his  Mammon.  It  was  thus 
I  thought  of  the  profession  of  arms  ;  my 
whole  soul  was  in  it  ;  no  other  wish,  no 
other  hope,  divided  my  heart  ;  that  passion 
reigned  there  alone.  How  often  do  we  find 
it  in  life  that  the  means  become  the  end, 
that  the  effort  we  employ  to  reach  an 
object  takes  hold  upon  our  fancy,  gains 
hourly  upon  our  affections,  and  at  length 
usurps  the  place  of  what  before  had  been 
our  idol.  As  a  boy,  liberty,  the  bold  asser- 
tion of  my  country's  rights,  stirred  my 
heart,  and  made  me  wish  to  be  a  sol- 
dier. As  years  rolled  on,  the  warlike 
passion  sank  deeper  and  deeper  in  my 
nature  ;  the  thirst  for  glory  grew  upon 
me,  and,  forgetting  all  save  that,  I  longed 
for  the  time  when,  on  the  battle-field,  I 
should  win  my  way  to  fame  and  honor.  In 
this  wise  were  my  musings,  as  I  loitered 
homeward  and    entered    my  quarters.     A 


sealed  packet,  addressed  Sous-Lieutenant 
Burke — how  that  humble  title  made  my 
heart  beat— lay  on  my  table.     Supposing  it 

referred  to  my  new  appointment,  I  sat 
down  (ocon'it  over  at  my  leisure  ;  but  no 
sooner  had  1  lorn  open  the  envelope  than  a 
card  fell  to  the  ground.  I  took  it  up  hastily, 
and  read,  "  D'apres  Vordre  de  Madame 
Bonaparte,  fai  Vhonneur  de  vous  inviter 
a  une  soiree — "  "What  !"  cried  I,  aloud, 
"me! — invite  me  to  the  Palace!  There 
must  be  some  mistake  here."  And  I  turned 
again  to  the  envelope,  where  my  name  was 
legibly  written,  with  my  grade,  and  the 
number  of  iny  new  corps.  There  could  be 
no  doubt  of  it,  and  yet  was  it  still  inex- 
plicable ;  I  that  was  so  perfectly  alone,  a 
stranger,  without  a  friend,  save  among  the 
humble  ranks  of  the' school,  how  came  such 
a  distinction  as  this  to  he  conferred  on  me  ? 
I  thought  of  Tascher ;  but  then  we  had 
lived  months  together,  and  such  a  thing 
had  never  been  even  alluded  to.  The  more 
I  reflected  on  it,  the  greater  became  my 
difficulty  ;  and  in  a  maze  of  confusion  and 
embarrassment  I  passed  the  day  in  prepara- 
tion for  the  evening,  for,  as  was  customary  at 
the  period,  the  invitations  for  small  parties 
were  issued  on  the  very  mornings  them- 
selves. My  first  care  was  to  look  after  the 
uniform  of  my  new  corps,  in  which  I  knew 
I  must  appear.  My  last  remaining  bank- 
note, the  sole  survivor  of  my  little  stock  of 
wealth,  was  before  me,  and  I  sat  calculating 
with  myself  the  costly  outlay  of  a  hussar 
dress,  the  full  uniform  of  which  had  not 
till  now  entered  into  my  computation. 
Never  was  my  ingenuity  more  sorely  tried 
than  in  the  endeavor  to  bring  the  outlay 
within  the  narrow  limits  of  my  little  purse  ; 
and  wdien,  at  length,  I  wToulcl  think  that 
all  had  been  remembered,  some  small  but 
costly  item  would  rise  up  against  me,  and 
disconcert  all  my  calculations. 

At  noon  I  set  out  to  wait  on  my  new 
colonel,  wh'ose  quarters  were  in  the  Place 
Vendome.  The  visit  was  a  short  and  not 
over  pleasant  one  ;  a  crowd  of  officers  filled 
the  rooms,  among  whom  I  edged  my  way 
with  difficulty  toward  the  place  where 
Colonel  Marbois  was  standing.  He  was  a 
short,  thick-set,  vulgar-looking  man,  of 
about  fifty ;  his  moustache  and  whiskers 
meeting  above  the  lip,  and  his  bushy,  black 
beard  below,  gave  him  the  air  of  a  pioneer, 
which  his  harsh  Breton  accent  did  not  dero- 
gate from. 

"A h,  e'est  votes!"  said  he,  as  my  nam o 
was  announced;  "you'll  have  to  learn  in 
future,  sir,  that  officers  of  your  rank  are  not 
received  at  the  levees  of  their-  colonel. 
You  hear  me ;  report  yourself  to  the  chef 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


327 


tVescadron,  however,  who  will  give  you  your 
orders  ;  and  mark  me,  sir,  let  this  be  the 
last  day  you  are  seen  in  that  uniform.''' 

A  short  and  not  very  gracious  nod 
concluded  the  audience,  and  I  took  my 
leave  not  the  less  abashed  that  I  could 
mark  a  kind  of  half  smile  on  most  of  the 
faces  about  me  as  I  withdrew  from  the 
crowd.  Scarcely  in  the  street,  however, 
when  my  heart  felt  light  and  my  step 
elastic.  I  was  a  sous-lieutenant  of  hussars, 
and  if  I  did  my  duty  what  cared  I  for  the 
smiles  and  frowns  of  my  colonel  ;  and  had 
not  the  General  Bonaparte  himself  told  me 
"  that  no  grade  was  too  high  for  the  brave 
man  who  did  so." 

I  can  scarcely  avoid  a  smile  even  yet  as  I 
call  to  mind  the  awe  I  felt  on  entering  the 
splendid  shop  of  Monsieur  Crillac,  the 
fashionable  tailor  of  those  days,  whose  plate- 
glass  windows  and  showy  costumes  formed 
the  standing-point  for  many  a  lounger 
around  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  Richelieu 
and  the  Boulevard.  His  saloon,  as  he  some- 
what ostentatiously  called  it,  was  the  ren- 
dezvous for  the  idlers  of  a  fashionable 
world,  who  spent  their  mornings  canvassing 
the  last  gossip  of  the  city,  and  devising 
new  extravagances  in  dress.  The  morning 
papers,  caricatures,  prints  of  fashions,  pat- 
terns of  waistcoats,  and  new  devices  for 
buttons,  were  scattered  over  a  table,  round 
which,  in  every  attitude  of  indolence  and 
ease,  were  stretched  some  dozen  of  the 
exquisites  of  the  period,  engaged  in  that 
species  of  half  ennui,  half  conversation, 
that  forms  a  considerable  part  of  the  exist- 
ence of  your  young  men  of  fashion  of  every 
age  and  every  country.  Their  frock-coats 
of  light  cloth,  high-collared,  and  covered 
with  buttons ;  their  bottes  a  revers  reaching 
only  mid-leg,  and  met  there  by  a  tight 
pantalon  collant ;  their  hair  studiously 
brushed  back  off  their  foreheads,  and  worn 
long,  though  not  in  queue  behind,  bespoke 
them  as  the  most  accurate  types  of  the  mode. 

The  appearance  of  a  youth  in  the  simple 
uniform  of  the  Polytechnique  in  such  a 
place  seemed  to  excite  universal  astonish- 
ment. Such  a  phenomenon  apparently 
had  never  been  witnessed  before  ;  and  as 
they  turned  fully  round  to  stare  at  me,  it 
was  clear  they  never  deemed  that  any  mark 
of  rudeness  could  be  felt  by  one  so  humble 
as  I  was.  Monsieur  Crillac  himself,  who 
was  sipping  his  glass  of  eau  sucree,  with 
one  arm  leaning  on  the  chimney-piece, 
never  deigned  to  pay  me  other  attention 
than  a  half  smile,  as,  with  a  voice  of  most 
patronizing  softness,  he  lisped  out : 

"What  can  we  do  for  you  here,  Mon- 
sieur ?  " 


Apparently  the  answer  to  this  question 
was  a  matter  of  interest  to  the  party,  who 
suddenly  ceased  talking  to  listen. 

"I  wish  to  order  a  uniform,"  said  I, 
summoning  up  all  my  resolution  not  to 
seem  abashed.  "  This  is  a  tailor's,  if  I  don't 
mistake  ?" 

"  Monsieur  is  quite  correct."  replied  the 
imperturbable  proprietor,  whose  self-satis- 
fied smile  became  still  more  insulting,  "  but 
perhaps  not  exactly  what  you  seek  for. 
Gentlemen  who  wear  your  cloth  seldom 
visit  us." 

"  No,  Crillac,"  interrupted  one  of  the 
bystanders  ;  "I  never  heard  that  you  ad- 
vertised yourself  as  fashioner  to  the  Poly- 
technique, or  tailor  in  ordinary  to  the  corps 
of  Pompiers." 

"You  are  insolent,  sir,"  said  I,  turning 
fiercely  round  upon  the  speaker.  The  words 
were  scarce  spoken,  when  the  party  sprang 
to  their  legs  ;  some  endeavoring  to  restrain 
the  temper  of  the  young  man  addressed, 
others,  pressing  around,  called  on  me  to 
apologize  on  the  spot  for  what  I  had  said. 

"  No,  no  :  let  us  have  his  name — his 
name,"  said  three  or  four  in  a  breath.  "  De 
Beauvais  will  take  the  punishment  into  his 
own  hands." 

"Be  advised,  young  gentleman  :  unsay 
your  words,  and  go  your  way,*'  said  an 
elder  one  of  the  party,  while  he  added,  in  a 
whisper,  "De  Beauvais  has  no  equal  in 
Paris  with  the  small  sword." 

"  There  is  my  address,"  said  I,  seizing  a 
pen,  and  writing  on  a  piece  of  paper  before 
me. 

"Ha!"  said  De  Beauvais,  as  he  threw 
his  eye  ou  the  writing,  "he  has  got  his 
grade,  it  seems — all  the  better  that  ;  I  half 
shrunk  from  the  ridicule  of  an  affair  with  a 
cadet.     So  you  are  serious  about  this  ?  " 

"  Sir  ! "  said  I,  all  my  efforts  being  bare- 
ly enough  to  repress  my  rising  passion. 

"  Well,  well — enough  about  it.  To-mor- 
row morning — the  Bois  de  Boulogne — the 
rapier.     You  understand  me,  I  suppose  ?  " 

I  nodded,  and  was  about  to  leave  the 
place,  when  I  remembered  that,  in  my  con- 
fusion, I  had  neither  asked  my  antagonist's 
name  nor  rank.  "  And  you,  sir,"  said  I, 
"'  may  I  have  the  honor  to  learn  who  vou 
are  ?  " 

"  Pardieu  !  my  young  friend,"  cried  one 
of  the  others,  "the  information  will  not 
strengthen  your  nerves  ;  but  if  you  will 
have  it,  he  is  the  Marquis  De  Beauvais, 
and  tolerably  well  known  in  that  little  lo- 
cality where  he  expects  to  meet  vou  to-mor- 
row.'" 

"Till  then,  sir,"  replied  I,  touching  my 
cap,  as  I  turned  into  .the  street — not,  how- 


328 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


ever,  before  a  burst  of  laughter  rang  through 
the  party  at  a  witticism  of  which  I  was  the 
object,  and  the  latter  part  of  which  only 
could  I  catch.  It  was  Dc  Beauvais  who 
spoke.  "In  which  case,  Crillac,  another 
artist  must  take  his  measure."  The  allu- 
sion could  not  be  mistaken,  and,  1  confess, 
1  did  not  relish  it  like  the  others. 

I  should.  1  fear,  have  fallen  very  low  in 
the  estimate  of  my  companions  and  asso- 
ciates could  the  real  state  of  my  heart  at 
that  moment  have  been  laid  open  to  them. 
It  was,  I  freely  own,  one  of  great  depres- 
sion. But  an  hour  ago,  and  life  was  open- 
ing before  me  with  many  a  bright  and 
cheerful  hope  ;  and  now,  in  an  instant,  was 
my  fortune  clouded.  Let  me  not  be  mis- 
understood ;  among  the  rules  of  the  Poly- 
technique  dueling  was  strictly  forbidden  ; 
and  although  numerous  transgressions  oc- 
curred, so  determined  was  the  head  of  the 
Government  to  put  down  the  practice,  that 
the  individuals  thus  erring  were  either  re- 
duced in  rank,  or  their  promotion  stopped 
for  a  considerable  period  ;  while  the  per- 
sonal displeasure  of  General  Bonaparte  rare- 
ly failed  to  show  itself  with  reference  to 
them.  Now,  it  was  clear  to  me  that  some 
unknown  friend,  some  secret  well-wisher, 
had  interested  himself  in  my  humble  fate 
— that  1  owed  my  newly-acquired  rank  to 
his  kindness  and  good  offices.  What,  then, 
might  I  not  be  forfeiting  by  this  unhappy 
rencontre  ?  Was  it  not  more  than  likely 
that  such  an  instance  of  misconduct,  the 
very  day  of  my  promotion,  might  determine 
the  whole  tenor  of  my  future  career  ?  What 
misrepresentation  might  not  gain  currency 
about  my  conduct  ?  These  were  sad  reflec- 
tions, indeed,  and  every  moment  but  in- 
creased them. 

When  I  reached  the  college,  I  called  on 
one  of  my  friends  ;  but  not  finding  him  in 
his  quarters,  I  wrote  a  few  lines,  begging 
he  would  come  over  to  me  the  moment  he 
returned.  This  done,  I  sat  down  alone,  to 
think  over  my  adventure,  and  devise,  if  I 
could,  some  means  to  prevent  its  publicity, 
or,  if  not  that,  its  being  garbled  and  mis- 
stated. Hour  after  hour  rolled  past — my 
wandering  thoughts  took  no  note  of  time — 
and  the  deep-toned  bell  of  the  Polytech- 
nique  struck  eight  before  I  was  aware  the 
day  was  nearly  over.  Nine  was  the  hour 
mentioned  on  my  card  of  invitation  ;  it- 
flashed  suddenly  on  me.  What  was  to  be 
done  ?  I  had  no  uniform  save  that  of  the 
"  ecole."  Such  a  costume  in  such  a  place 
would,  I  feared,  be  considered  too  ridicu- 
lous ;  yet  to  absent  myself  altogether  was 
impossible.  Never  was  I  in  such  a  dilem- 
ma.    All   my  endeavors  to  rescue  myself 


were  fruitless  ;  and  at  last,  worn  out  will; 
the  conflict  of  my  doubts  and  fears,  I 
sti  pped  into  the  fiacre  and  set  out  for  the 
Palace. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE    "PAVILLON   DE   FLORE." 

As  my  humble  carriage  slackened  its 
pace  to  a  walk  on  approaching  the  Place 
Carousel,  1  for  the  first  time  perceived  that 
the  open  space  around  was  thronged  with 
equipages,  moving  slowly  along  in  line 
toward  the  gate  of  the  Palace.  A  picket 
of  dragoons  was  drawn  up  at  the  great  arch- 
way, and  mounted  gendarmes  rode  up  and 
down  to  preserve  order  in  the  crowd.  Be- 
fore me  stretched  the  long  facade  of  the 
Tuileries,  now  lighted  up  in  its  entire  ex- 
tent. The  rich  hangings  and  costly  furni- 
ture could  be  seen  even  where  I  was. 

What  a  sinking  sense  of  shame  over- 
whelmed me  as  I  thought  of  my  humble 
position  amid  that  mighty  concourse  of  all 
that  was  great  and  illustrious  in  France  ; 
and  how  I  shrunk  within  myself  as  I 
thought  of  the  poor  scholar  of  the  Poly- 
technique — for  such  my  dress  proclaimed 
me — mixing  with  the  most  distinguished 
diplomatists  and  generals  of  Europe.  The 
rebuke  I  had  met  with  from  my  colonel  in 
the  morning  was  still  fresh  in  my  recollec- 
tion, and  I  dreaded  something  like  a  repeti- 
tion of  it* 

"Oh  !  why  had  I  not  known  that  this 
was  a  grand  reception  ? "  was  the  ever- 
rising  thought  of  my  mind.  My  card  of 
invitation  said  a  soiree  :  even  that  I  might 
have  dared — but  here  was  a  regular  levee  ! 
Already  I  was  near  enough  to  hear  the 
names  announced  at  the  foot  of  the  grand 
staircase,  where  ambassadors,  senators, 
ministers  of  state,  and  officers  of  the 
highest  rank,  succeeded  each  other  in  quick 
succession.  My  carriage  stood  now  next 
but  two.  I  was  near  enough  to  see  the 
last  arrival  hand  his  card  to  the  huissier 
in  waiting,  and  hear  his  title  called  out, 
"Le  Ministre  de  la  Guerre,"  when  the  per- 
son in  the  carriage  before  me  cried  to  his 
coachman,  "to  the  left — the  Pavilion  de 
Flore  ;  "  and  at  the  same  moment  the  car- 
riage turned  from  the  line,  and  drove 
rapidly  toward  a  distant  wing  of  the 
Palace. 

"Move  up  !  move  up  !  "  shouted  a  dra- 
goon ;  "or  are  you  for  the  soiree  de 
Madame ? " 

"Yes,  yes  .'"  said  I,  hastily,  as  I  heard 
his  question. 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


329 


"Follow  that  carriage,  then,"  said  he, 
pointing  with  his  sabre  ;  and  in  a  moment 
we  left  the  dense  file,  and  followed  the 
pounds  of  the  retiring  wheels  toward  a  dark 
corner  of  the  Palace,  where  a  single  lamp 
overa  gate  was  the  only  light  to  guide  us. 
Never  shall  I  forget  the  sense  of  relief  I 
felt  as  I  lay  back  in  the  carriage,  and  list- 
ened to  the  hum  and  din  of  the  vast  crowd 
growing  each  moment  fainter.  "  Thank 
Heaven,"  said  I,  "it's  no  levee."  Scarce 
half  a  dozen  equipages  stood  around  the 
door  as  we  drove  up,  and  a  single  dragoon 
was  the  guard  of  honor. 

"  Whom  shall  I  announce,  sir  ?  "  said  a 
huissier  in  black,  whose  manner  was  as  de- 
ferential as  though  my  appearance  bespoke 
an  embassador.  I  gave  my  name  and  fol- 
lowed him  up  a  wide  stair,  where  the  deep 
velvet  carpet  left  no  footfall  audible.  A 
large  bronze  candelabra,  supporting  a  blaze 
of  wax-lights,  diffused  a  light  like  day  on 
every  side.  The  doors  opened  before  us  as 
if  by  magic,  and  I  found  myself  in  an  ante- 
chamber, where  the  huissier,  repeating  my 
name  to  another  in  waiting,  retired.  Pass- 
ing through  this,  we  entered  a  small  draw- 
ing-room, in  which  sat  two  persons  en- 
gaged at  a  chess-table,  but  who  never 
looked  up,  or  noticed  us,  as  we  proceeded. 
At  last  the  two  wings  of  a  wide  folding 
door  were  thrown  open,  and  my  name  was 
announced  in  a  low  but  audible  voice. 

The  salon  into  which  I  now  entered  was 
a  large  and  splendidly-furnished  apartment, 
whose  light,  tempered  by  a  species  of  abat- 
jour,  gave  a  kind  of  soft  mysterious  effect 
to  everything  about,  and  made  even  the 
figures,  as  they  sat  in  little  groups,  appear 
something  almost  dramatic  in  their  charac- 
ter. The  conversation,  too,  was  maintained 
in  a  half-subdued  tone — a  gentle  murmur 
of  voices,  that,  mingling  with  the  swell  of 
music  in  another  and  distant  apartment, 
and  the  plash  of  a  small  fountain  in  a  vase 
of  gold-fish  in  the  room  itself,  made  a 
strange  but  most  pleasing  assemblage  of 
sounds.  Even  in  the  momentary  glance 
which,  on  entering,  I  threw  around  me,  I 
perceived  that  no  studied  etiquette  or  court- 
ly stateliness  prevailed.  The  guests  were 
disposed  in  every  attitude  of  lounging  ease 
and  careless  abandon  ;  and  it  was  plain  to 
see  that  all,  or  nearly  all,  about  were  inti- 
mates of  the  place. 

As  the  door  closed  behind  me,  I  stood 
half  uncertain  how  to  proceed.  Unhap- 
pily, I  knew  little  of  the  habitudes  of  the 
great  world  ;  and  every  step  I  took  was  a 
mattsr  of  difficulty. 

"I  think  you  will  find  Madame  Bona- 
parte in  that   room,"   said  a   middle-aged 


|  and  handsome  man,  whose  mild  voice  and 
gentle  smile  did  much  to  set  me  at  my 
ease  ;  "but  perhaps  yon  don't  know  her."" 

I  muttered  something  I  meant  to  be  a 
negative,  to  which  he  immediately  replied  : 

"  Then  let  me  present  you.  There  is  no 
ceremony  here,  and  I  shall  be  your  groom 
of  the  chambers — but  here  she  is.  Madame 
la  Consulesse,  this  young  gentleman  desires 
to  make  his  respects." 

"Ha  !  our  friend  of  the  Polytechniquc — 
Monsieur  Burke,  is  it  not  ?  "  ' 

"Yes,  Madame,"  said  I,  bowing  low, 
and  blushing  deeply  as  Irecognized,  m  the 
splendidly- attired  and  beautiful  person  be- 
fore me,  the  lady  who  so  kindly  held  the 
water  to  my  lips  the  day  of  my  accident  at 
the  school. 

"Why,  they  told  me  you  were  promoted 
— a  hussar,  I  think." 

"Yes,  Madame — but — but — " 

"  You  are  too  fond  of  old  associations  to 
part  from  them  easily,"  said  she,  laughing. 
"  Come  here,  Stephanie,  and  see  a  miracle 
of  manhood,  that  could  resist  all  the  din- 
quant  of  a  hussar  for  the  simple  costume  of 
the  Ecole  Militaire.  Monsieur  de  Custine, 
this  is  my  young  friend  of  whom  I  told 
you  the  other  day." 

The  gentleman,  the  same  who  had  so 
kindly  noticed  me,  bowed  politely. 

"And  now  I  must  leave  you  together, 
for  I  see  they  are  teasing  poor  Madame  Le- 
febvre."  And  with  a  smile  she  passed 
on  into  a  small  boudoir,  from  which  the 
sounds  of  merry  laughter  were  proceeding. 

i(  You  don't  know  any  one  here  ?"  said 
Monsieur  de  Custine,  as  he  motioned  me  to 
a  place  beside  him  on  a  sofa ;  "nor  is  there 
any  very  remarkable  person  here  to  point 
out  to  you  this  evening.  The  First  Con- 
sul's levee  absorbs  all  the  celebrities — but 
by-and-by  they  will  drop  in  to  pay  their  re- 
spects, and  you'll  see  them  all.  The  hand- 
some woman  yonder  with  her  fan  before 
her,  is  Madame  Beauhamais  Lavalette,  and 
the  good-looking  young  fellow  in  the  staff 
uniform  is  Monsieur  de  Melcy,  a  stepson 
of  General  Rapp." 

"And  the  large  handsome  man  with  the 
embroidered  coat  who  passed  through  so 
hurriedly  ?" 

"  Yes,  he  is  somebody — that's  Dccres, 
the  Ministre  de  la  Marine — he  is  gone  to 
the  levee  ;  and  there,  next  the  door,  with 
his  eyes  cast  down,  and  his  hands  folded, 
that  is  the  Abbe  Maynal,  one  of  the  most 
'  spirituel '  men  of  the  day  ;  but  I  suppose 
you'd  much  rather  look  at  the  beauties  of  the 
Court  than  hear  long  stories  about  litera- 
ture and  politics  ;  and  there  is  the  gem  of 
loveliness  among  them." 


330 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


I  turned  my  eyes  as  lie  spoke,  and  close 
beside  me,  engaged  in  an  eager  conversa- 
tion with  an  old  lady,  stood  a  young  and 
most  beautiful  girl.  Eer  long  hair, 
through  which,  in  the  then  mode,  violets 
were  wreathed  and  interwoven,  descendedin 
rich  masses  of  curl  over  a  neck  white  as 
marble.  The  corsage  of  her  dress,  which, 
in  imitation  of  Greek  costume,  was  made 
low,  displayed  her  well-rounded  shoulders 
to  the  greatest  advantage  ;  and  though 
rather  below  than  above  the  middle  size, 
there  was  a  dignity  and  grace  in  the  air  of 
her  figure,  and  a  certain  elegance  about 
her  slightest  movements,  that  was  most 
fascinating. 

'•'And  the  '  "Rose  de  Provence' — how  is 
she  this  evening?''  said  my  companion, 
rising  suddenly,  and  presenting  himself 
with  a  smile  before  her. 

"Ah,  you  here,  Monsieur  de  Custine  ? 
we  thought  you  had  been  at  Nancy." 

The  accent,  the  tone  of  voice  in  which 
she  said  these  few  words,  sent  a  thrill 
through  me,  and  as  I  looked  again,  I  recog- 
nized the  young  lady  who  stood  at  Madame 
Bonaparte's  side  on  the  memorable  day  of 
my  fall.  Perhaps  my  astonishment  made 
me  start ;  for  she  turned  round  toward 
me,  and  with  a  soft  and  most  charming 
smile  saluted  me. 

"How  they  are  laughing  in  that  room," 
said  she,  turning  toward  her  other  com- 
panions. "  Monsieur  de  Custine  has  de- 
serted his  dear  friend  this  evening,  and  left 
her  to  her  unassisted  defense." 

"Mafoi,"  replied  he,  "I  got  ill  reward- 
ed for  my  advocacy.  It  was  only  last  week, 
when  I  helped  her  out  through  one  of  her 
blunders  in  grammar,  she  called  me  a 
'  ganache '  for  my  pains. " 

"How  very  ungrateful.  You  that  have 
been  interpreter  to  her — her  tutor  for  the 
entire  winter — without  whom  she  could 
neither  have  obtained  an  ice  nor  a  glass  of 
water. " 

"  So  is  it ;  but  you  are  all  ungrateful. 
But  I  think  I  had  better  go  and  pay  my 
respects  to  her ;  pray  come  along  with 
me." 

I  followed  the  party  into  a  small  room 
fitted  up  like  a  tent,  where,  amid  some 
half-dozen  persons  assembled  around  like 
an  audience,  sat  a  large,  florid,  and  good- 
looking  person,  her  costume  of  scarlet  vel- 
vet, turban  and  robe,  adding  to  the  flushed 
and  high-colored  expression  of  her  features. 
She  was  talking  in  a  loud  voice,  with  an 
accent  of  such  patois  as  I  should  much 
more  naturally  have  expected  in  a  remote 
faubourg  than  in  the  gilded  salons  of  the 
Tuileries.     She  had  been  relating  some  an- 


ecdotes of  military  life,  which  came  within 
her  own  experience  ;  and  evidently  amused 
her  auditory  as  much  by  her  manner  as  the 
nial  ter  of  her  narrative.  • 

"  Oui,  parbleu,"  said  she,  drawing  a  long 
breath,  "  i  was  only  the  wife  of  a  sergeant 
in  the  'Gardes  Francaises'  in  those  days; 
but  they  were  pleasant  times,  and  the  men 
one  used  to  see  were  men  indeed.  They 
were  not  as  much  laced  in  gold,  nor  had 
not  so  much  finery  on  their  jackets ;  but 
they  were  bold,  bronzed,  manly  fellows. 
You'd  not  see  such  a  poor,  miserable  little 
fellow  as  De  Custine  there,  in  a  whole 
demi-brigade."  When  the  laugh  this 
speech  caused,  and  in  which  her  own  mer- 
ry voice  joined,  subsided,  she  continued  : 
"  Where  will  you  find,  now,  anything  like 
the  Twenty-second  of  the  line  ?  Pioche 
was  in  that — poor  Pioche  ! — I  tied  up  his 
jaw  in  Egypt  when  it  was  smashed  by  a 
bullet.  I  remember,  too,  when  the  regi- 
ment came  back  ;  your  husband,  the  Gen- 
eral, reviewed  them  in  the  court  below, 
and  poor  Pioche  was  quite  offended  at  not 
being  noticed.  'We  were  good  friends,' 
quoth  he,  'at  Mount  Tabor,  but  he  for- 
gets all  that  now  ;  that's  what  comes  of 
a  rise  in  the  world.  "-Le  Petit  Capo- 
ral "  was  humble  enough  once,  I  warrant 
him  ;  but  now  he  can't  remember  me.' 
Well,  they  were  ordered  to  march  past  in 
line,  and  there  was  Pioche,  with  his  great 
dark  eyes  fixed  on  the  General,  and  his  big 
black  beard  floAving  down  to  his  Avaist;  but 
no,  he  neATer  noticed  him  no  more  than  the 
tambour  that  beat  the  rappel.  He  could 
bear  it  no  longer.  His  head  was  twisting 
with  impatience  and  chagrin  ;  and  he 
sprang  out  of  the  lines,  and  seizing  a  brass 
gun — a  piece  de  quatre — he  mounted  it  like 
a  fusee  to  his  shoulder,  and  marched  past, 
calling  out, '  Tu  ' — he  always  tu-toied  him — 
'  tu  te  rappelles  maintenani,  n'est-ce  pas, 
petit  ? ' " 

No  one  enjoyed  this  little  story  more 
than  Madame  Bonaparte  herself,  who 
laughed  for  several  minutes  after  it  was 
over.  Story  after  story  did  she  pour  forth 
in  this  way  ;  most  of  them,  however,  had 
their  merit  in  some  personality  or  other, 
which,  Avhile  recognized  by  the  rest,  had 
no  attraction  for  me.  There  was  in  all  she 
said  the  easy  self-complacency  of  a  kind- 
hearted  but  vulgar  woman — vain  of  her 
husband,  proud  of  his  services,  and  per- 
fectly indifferent  to  the  habits  and  usages 
of  a  society  whose  manners  she  gave  her- 
self no  trouble  to  imitate,  nor  of  whose 
ridicule  Avas  she  in  the  least  afraid. 

I  sauntered  from  the  room  alone,  to 
wander    through    the    other    apartments, 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS. 


331 


where  objects  of  art  and  curiosities  of 
every  kind  were  profusely  scattered.  The 
marbles  of  Greece  and  Rome,  the  strange 
carvings  of  Egypt,  the  rich  vases  of  Sevres 
were  there,  amid  cabinet  pictures  of  the 
rarest  and  most  costly  kind.  Those  deli- 
cious landscapes  of  the  time  of  Louis  XV., 
where  every  charm  of  nature  and  art  was 
conveyed  upon  the  canvas  ;  the  cool  ar- 
bors of  Versailles,  with  their  terraced 
promenades  and  hissing  fountains — the 
subjects  which  Vanloo  loved  to  paint,  and 
which  that  voluptuous  Court  loved  to  con- 
template ;  the  long  alleys  of  shady  green, 
where  gay  groups  were  strolling  in  the 
mellow  softness  of  an  autumn  sunset ;  those 
proud  dames,  whose  sweeping  garments 
brushed  the  velvet  turf,  and  at  whose 
sides,  uncovered,  walked  the  chivalry  of 
France,  how  did  they  live  again  in  the 
bright  pencil  of  Moucheron,  and  how.  did 
they  carry  one  in  fancy  to  the, great  days  of 
the  monarchy.  Strange  place  for  them, 
too,  the  boudoir  of  her  whose  husband  had 
uprooted  the  ancient  dynasty  they  com- 
memorated— had  erased  from  the  list  of 
kings  that  proudest  of  all  the  royal  stocks 
in  Europe.  Was  it  the  narrow-minded 
glory  of  the  usurper  that  loved  to  look 
upon  the  greatness  he  had  humbled,  that 
brought  them  there  ?  or  was  it  rather  the 
well-spring  of  that  proud  hope  just  rising 
in  his  heart  that  he  was  to  be  successor  of 
those  great  kings,  whose  history  formed 
the  annals  of  Europe  itself  ?  As  I  wander- 
ed on,  captivated  in  every  sense  by  the 
charm  of  what  to  me  was  a  scene  in  fairy- 
land, I  came  suddenly  before  a  picture  of 
Josephine,  surrounded  by  the  ladies  of  her 
Court.  It  was  by  Isabey,  and  had  all  the 
delicate  beauty  and  transparent  finish  of 
that  delightful  painter.  Beside  it  was 
another  portrait  by  the  same  artist,  and  I 
started  back  in  amazement  at  the  resem- 
blance. Never  had  color  better  caught  the 
rich  tint  of  a  southern  complexion  ;  the 
liquid  softness  of  eye,  the  full  and  spark- 
ling intelligence  of  ready  wit  and  bright 
fancy,  all  beamed  in  that  lovely  face.  It 
needed  not  the  golden  letters  in  the  frame 
which  called.it  "La  Rose  de  Provence."  I 
sat  down  before  it  unconsciously,  delighted 
that  I  might  gaze  on  such  beauty  uncon- 
strained. The  white  hand  leaned  on  a 
balustrade,  and  seemed  almost  as  if  stretch- 
ing from  the  very  canvas.  I  could  have 
knelt  and  kissed  it.  That  was  the  very 
look  she  woi'e  the  hour  I  saw  her  first — it 
had  never  left  my  thoughts  day  or  night : 
the  half-rising  blush,  the  slightly-averted 
head,  the  mingled  look  of  impatience  and 
kindness — ail  were  there  :  and  so  entranced 


had  I  become,  that  I  feared  cadi  instant 
lesl  the  visum  would  depart,  and  leave  me 
dark  and  desolate.  The  silence  of  i  he  room 
was  almost  unbroken — a  distant  murmur 
of  voices,  the  tones  of  a  harp,  were  all  I 
heard,  and  I  sat,  I  know  not  how  long, 
thus  wrapped  in  ecstasy. 

A  tall  screen  of  Chinese  fabric  separated 
the  part  of  the  room  I  occupied  from  the 
rest,  and  left  me  free  to  contemplate  alone 
those  charms  which  each  moment  grew 
stronger  upon  me.  An  hour  might  per- 
haps have  thus  elapsed,  when  suddenly  I 
heard  the  sound  of  voices  approaching,  but 
in  a  different  direction  from  that  of  the 
salons.  They  were  raised  above  the  ordi- 
nary tone  of  speaking,  and  one  in  particular 
sounded  in  a  strange  accent  of  mingled 
passion  and  sarcasm,  which  I  shall  never 
forget.  The  door*  of  the  room  was  flung 
open  before  I  could  rise  from  my  chair, 
and  two  persons  entered,  neither  of'  whom 
could  I  see  from  my  position  behind  the 
screen. 

"  I  ask  you,  again  and  again,  is  the 
treaty  of  Amiens  a  treaty,  or  is  it  not  ?" 
said  a  harsh,  imperious  tone  I  at  once  re- 
cognized as  that  of  the  First  Consul,  while 
his  voice  actually  trembled  with  anger. 

"My  Lord  Whitworth  observed,  if  I 
mistake  not,"  replied  a  measured  and  soft 
accent,  where  a  certain  courtier-like  unction 
prevailed,  "that  the  withdrawal  of  the 
British  troops  from  'Malta  would  follow, 
on  our  making  a  similar  step  as  regards 
our  forces  in  Switzerland  and  Piedmont." 

"What  right  have  they  to  make  such  a 
condition  ?  They  never  complained  of  the 
occupation  of  Switzerland  at  the  time  of 
the  treaty.  I  will  not  hear  of  such  a  stip- 
ulation. I  tell  you,  Monsieur  de  Talley- 
rand, I'd  rather  see  the  English  in  the  Fau- 
bourg St.  Antoine  than  in  the  Island  of 
Malta.  Why  should  we  treat  with  Eng- 
land as  a  continental  power  ?  Of  India, 
if  she  will — and  as  to  Egypt,  I  told  my 
Lord  that  sooner  or  later  it  must  belong 
to  France." 

"A  frankness  he  has  reason  to  be  thank- 
ful for,"  observed  M.  de  Talleyrand,  in  a 
voice  of  sarcastic  slyness. 

"  Que  voulez-vous?"  replied  Bonaparte, 
in  a  raised  tone,  "they  want  a  war,  and 
they  shall  have  it :  what  matter  the  cause — 
such  treaties  of  peace  as  these  had  better 
be  covered  with  black  crape."  Then  drop- 
ping his  voice  to  a  half  whisper,  he  added  : 
"You  must  see  him  to-morrow.  Explain 
how  the  attacks  of  the  English  press  have 
irritated  me — how  deeply  wounded  I  must 
feel  at  such  a  license  permitted  under  the 
very  eyes  of  a  friendly  government — plots 


332 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS: 


against  my  life  encouraged — assassination 
countenanced.  Repeal  thai  Sebastiani's 
mission  to  Egypt  is  merely  commercial. 
That  although  prepared  for  war,  our  wish, 
the  wish  of  France,  is  peace.  That  the 
armaments  in  Holland  are  destined  for  the 
colonies.  Show  yourself  disposed  to  treat, 
but  not  to  make  advances.  Reject  the 
word  ultimatum,  if  he  employ  it.  The 
phrase  implies  a  parley  between  a  superior 
and  an  inferior.  This  is  no  longer  the 
France  that  remembers  an  English  com- 
missary at  Dunkirk.  If  he  do  not  use  the 
word,  then  remark  on  its  absence — say, 
these  are  not  times  for  longer  anxiety — 
that  we  must  know,  at  last,  to  what  we 
are  to  look.  Tell  him  the  Bourbons  are 
not  still  on  the  throne  here.  Let  him  feel 
with  whom  he  has  to  deal." 

"And  if  he  demand  his  passport," 
gravely  observed  Talleyrand,  "  you  can  be 
in  the  country  for  a  day — at  Plombieres — 
at  St.  Cloud." 

A  low,  subdued  laugh  followed  these 
words,  and  they  walked  forward  toward  the 
salons,  still  conversing,  but  in  a  whispered 
tone. 

A  cold  perspiration  broke  over  my  face 
and  forehead,  the  drops  fell  heavily  down 
my  cheek,  as  I  sat  an  unwilling  listener  of 
this  eventful  dialogue.  That  the  fate  of 
Europe  was  in  the  balance  I  knew  full  well 
— and,  ardently  as  I  longed  for  war,  the 
dreadful  picture  that  rose  before  me  damped 
much  of  my  ardor — while  a  sense  of  my 
personal  danger,  if  discovered  where  I  was, 
made  me  tremble  from  head  to  foot.  It 
was,  then,  with  a  sinking  spirit,  that  I 
retraced  my  steps  toward  the  salons,  not 
knowing  if  my  absence  had  not  been  re- 
marked and  commented  on.  How  little 
was  I  versed  in  such  society,  where  each 
came  and  went  as  it  pleased  him  ;  where 
the  most  brilliant  beauty,  the  most  spiritual 
conversationalist,  left  no  gap  by  absence, 
and  where  such  as  I  were  no  more  noticed 
than  the  statues  that  held  the  wax-lights. 

The  salons  were  now  crowded — ministers 
of  state,  ambassadors,  general  officers  in 
their  splendid  uniforms,  filled  the  apart- 
ments, in  which  the  din  of  conversation 
and  the  sounds  of  laughter  mingled.  Yet, 
through  the  air  of  gayety  which  reigned 
throughout— the  tone  of  light  and  "flip- 
pant smartness  which  prevailed — I  thought 
I  could  mark  here  and  there,  among 
some  of  the  ministers,  an  appearance 
of  excitement,  and  a  look  of  preoccupa- 
tion, little  in  unison  with  the  easy  in- 
timacy which  all  seemed  to  possess.  I 
looked  on  every  side  for  the  First  Consul 
himself,  but   he  Avas   nowhere  to  be  seen. 


Monsieur  Talleyrand,  however,  remained — 
I  recognized  him  by  his  soft-  and  measured 
accent,  as  he  sat  beside  Madame  Bonaparte, 
and  was  relating  some  story  in  a  low  voice, 
at  which  she  seemed  greatly  amused.  I 
could  not  help  wondering  at  the  lively  and 
animated  character  of  features,  beneath 
which  were  concealed  the  dark  secrets  of 
state  affairs,  the  tangled  mysteries  of 
political  intrigue.  To  look  on  him,  you 
would  have  said,  "  There  sits  one  whose 
easy  life  flows  on,  unruffled  by  this  world's 
chances."  Not  so  the  tall  and  swarthy 
man,  whose  dark  moustache  hangs  far  below 
his  chin,  and  who  leans  on  the  chimney- 
piece  yonder — the  large  veins  of  his  fore- 
head are  swollen  and  knitted,  and  his  deep 
voice  seems  to  tremble  with  strong  emotion 
as  he  speaks. 

"Pray,  Monsieur,  who  is  that  officer 
yonder  ?  "  said  I,  to  a  gentleman  beside  me, 
and  whose  shoulder  was  half  turned  away. 

"That,"  said  he,  raising  his  glass — 
"that  is  Savary,  the  Minister  of  Police. 
And,  pardon,  you  are  Mr.  Burke — is't  hot 
so?" 

I  started  as  he  pronounced  my  name,  and 
looking  fixedly  at  him,  recognized  the 
antagonist  with  whom  I  was  to  measure 
swords  the  next  morning  in  the  Bois  de 
Boulogne  ;  I  colored  at  the  awkwardness  of 
my  situation,  but  he,  with  more  ease  and 
self-possession,  resumed  : 

"  Monsieur,  this  is,  to  me  at  least,  a  very 
fortunate  meeting.  I  have  called  twice, 
in  the  hope  of  seeing  you  this  evening,  and 
am  overjoyed  now  to  find  you  here.  I 
behaved  very  ill  to  you  this  morning — 
I  feel  it  now — I  almost  felt  it  at  the  time. 
If  you  will  accept  my  apology  for  what  has 
occurred,  I  make  it  most  freely.  My  char- 
acter is  in  no  need  of  an  affair  to  make  me 
known  as  a  man  of  courage— yours,  there 
can  be  no  doubt  of.  May  I  hope  you  agree 
with  me  ?  I  see  you  hesitate — perhaps  I 
anticipate  the  reason — you  do  not  know 
how  far  you  can,  or  ought  to  receive  such 
an  amende  ?"  I  nodded,  and  he  continued  : 
"  Well,  I  am  rather  a  practiced  person  in 
these  matters,  and  I  can  safely  say  you 
may." 

"  Be  it  so,  then,"  said  I,  taking  the  hand 
he  proffered,  and  shaking  it  warmly  ;  "  I 
am  too  young  in  the  world  to  be  my  own 
guide,and  I  feel  you  would  not  deceive  me." 

A  gratified  look,  and  a  renewed  pressure 
of  the  hand,  replied  to  my  speech. 

"  One  favor  more — you  mustn't  refuse 
me.  Let  us  sup  together — my  caleclie  is 
below — people  are  already  taking  their  leave 
here — and,  if  you  have  no  particular  reason 
for  remaining — " 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS: 


333 


"  None — I  knoAV  no  one." 

"  Allons,  then,"  said  he,  gayly  taking  my 
arm  ;  and  I  soon  found  myself  descending 
the  marble  stairs,  beside  the  man  I  had  ex- 
pected to  stand  opposed  to  in  deadly  con- 
flict a  few  hours  later. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE   SUPPER   AT    "  BEAUVILLIERS'S." 

"  Where  to  ?"  asked  the  coachman,  as 
we  entered  the  caliche. 

"  Beauvilliers's,"  said  the  Marquis, 
throwing  himself  back  in  his  seat,  and  re- 
maining for  some  minutes  silent.  At  last, 
as  if  suddenly  recollecting  that  we  were 
strangers  to  each  other,  he  said,  "  You 
know  Beauvilliers,  of  course  ?•" 

"No,"  replied  I,  with  hesitation;  "I 
really  have  not  any  acquaintance." 

"  Par  bleu  !  "  said  he,  laughing,  "you 
ought  at  least  to  have  his  friendship. 
He  is  the  most  celebrated  restaurateur  of 
this  or  any  other  age  ;  no  one  has  carried 
the  great  art  of  the  cuisine  to  a  higher  per- 
fection, and  his  cellars  are  unequaled  in 
Paris — but  you  shall  pronounce  for  your- 
self." 

'Unhappily  my  judgment  is  of  little 
value.  Do  you  forget  that  the  diot-roll  of 
the  Polytecimique  is  a  bad  school  for  gas- 
tronomy ?  " 

"But  a  glorious  preparation  for  it,"  in- 
terrupted he.  "  How  delightful  must  be 
the  enjoyment  to  the  unsophisticated  pal- 
ate of  those  first  impressions  which  a  carpe 
a  la  Chambord,  a  pheasant  truffe,  a  dish 
of  ortolans  a  la  Provtencale  inspire  !  But 
here  we  are.  Our  party  is  a  small  one — an 
old  prefet  of  the  south,  an  abbe,  a  secreta- 
ry of  the  Russian  embassy,  and  oursel  ves. " 
This  information  he  gave  me  as  Ave  mount- 
ed a  narrow  and  winding  stair,  dimly 
lighted  by  a  single  lamp.  On  reaching  the 
landing,  however,  a  waiter  stood  in  read- 
iness to  usher  us  into  a  small  apartment 
decorated  with  all  the  luxury  of  gold  and 
plate  glass,  so  profusely  employed  in  the 
interior  of  all  cafes.  The  guests  already 
mentioned  were  there,  and  evidently  await- 
ing our  arrival  with  no  small  impatience. 

"As  usual,  Henri,"  said  the  old  man, 
whom  I  guessed  to  be  the  prefet — "as 
usual  —  an  hour  behind  your  appoint- 
ment." 

"  Forgive  him, monsieur,"  said  the  Abbe, 
with  a  simper.  "The  fascinations  of  a 
Court—" 


The  grimace  the  old  mail  made  at  this 
last  word  threw  Hie  whole  party  into  a  roar 
of  laughter,  which  only  ceased  by  the  Mar- 
quis presenting  me  in  all  form  to  each  of 
hi--!  friends. 

"A  table,  a  table,  for  Heaven's  sake!" 
cried  the  Prefet,  ringing  (he  bell,  and 
bustling  about  the  room  with  a  fidgety  im- 
patience. 

This  was,  however,  unneeded  :  for  in 
less  than  five  minutes  the  snpper  made  its 
appearance,  and  we  took  our  places  at  the 
board. 

The  encomiums  pronounced  ;.'=  each  dish 
came  and  went  satisfied  me  thai  the  feast 
was  unexceptionable.  As  for  myself,  I  ate 
away,  only  conscious  that  I  had  never  been 
so  regaled  before,  and  wondering  within 
me  how  far  ingenuity  had  been  exercised  to 
produce  the  endless  variety  that  appeared 
at  table.  The  wine,  too,  circulated  freely  ; 
and  Champagne,  Bordeaux,  and  Chamber- 
tin  folloAved  each  other  in  succession,  as 
the  different  meats  indicated  the  peculiar 
vintage.  In  the  conversation  I  could  take 
no  part ;  it  was  entirely  gastronomic  ;  and 
no  man  ever  existed  more  ignorant  of  the 
seasons  that  promised  well  for  truffles,  or 
the  state  of  the  atmosphere  that  threatened 
acidity  to  the  vines. 

"Well,  Henri,"_said  the  Pivfet,  when 
the  dessert  made  its  appearance,  and  the 
time  for  concluding  the  gourmand  disser- 
tation seemed  arrived — "well,  and  what 
news  from  the  Tuileries  ?  " 

"Nothing — absolutely  nothing."  said 
he,  carelessly.  "  The  same  people  ;  the 
same  topics  ;  the  eternal  game  of  tric-trac 
with  old  Madame  d'Angerton  ;  Denon  tor- 
menting some  new  victim  with  a  mummy 
or  a  map  of  Egypt  ;  Madame  Lefebvre  re- 
lating camp  anecdotes — " 

"  Ah,  she  is  delightful,"  interrupted  the 
Prefet. 

"  So  thinks  your  chief,  at  least,  Askofl," 
said  De  Beauvais,  turning  to  the  Russian. 

"He  sat  on  the  sofa  beside  her  for  a  good 
hour  and  a  half." 

"  AVho  sat  near  him  on  the  other  side  ?  " 
slyly  asked  the  other. 

"On  the  other  side?  I  forget — no,  I 
remember  it  was  Monsieur  de  Talleyrand 
and  Madame  Bonaparte  ;  and.  now  I  think 
of  it,  he  must  have  overheard  what  they 
said." 

"  Is  it  true,  then,  that  Bonaparte  insult- 
ed the  English  ambassador  at  the  reception  ? 
Askoff  heard  it  as  he  left  the  Rue  St.  H> 
nore." 

"Perfectly  true.  The  scene  was  a  most 
outrageous  one  ;  and  Lord  Whitworth  re- 
tired, declaring  to  Talievrand — at  least,  so 


334 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


they  say — that  without  an  apology  being 
made,  be  would  abstain  i'rom  any  future 
visits  at  the  Tuileries." 

"  But  what  is  to  come  of  it  ? — tell  me 
that  ?     What  is  to  be  the  result  ?" 

"  Pardieu  !  I  know  not.  A  reconcilia- 
tion to-morrow  ;  an  article  in  the  Moniteur; 
a  dinner  at  the  Court  j  and  then  another 
rupture,  and  another  article." 

"Or  a  war,"  said  the  Russian,  looking 
cautiously  about,  tp  see  if  his  opinion  met 
any  advocacy. 

"  What  say  you  to  that,  mon  ami  ?  "  said 
De  Beauvais,  turning  to  me.  "  Glad 
enough,  I  suppose,  you'll  be  to  win  your 
epaulettes  as  Colonel." 

"  That,  too,  is  on  the  cards,"  said  the 
Abbe,  sipping  his  glass  quietly.  "One 
can  credit  anything  these  times." 

"Even  the  Catholic  religion,  Abbe," 
said  De  Beauvais,  laughing. 

"Or  the  Restoration,"  replied  the  Abbe, 
with  a.  half -malicious  look  at  the  Prefet, 
which  seemed  greatly  to  amuse  the  Rus- 
sian. 

"  Or  the  Restoration  !  "  repeated  the  Pre- 
fet, solemnly  after  him  —  "  or  the  Restora- 
tion ! "  And  then  filling  his  glass  to  the 
brim,  he  drained  it  to  the  bottom. 

"It  is  a  hussar  corps  you  are  appointed 
to  ?  "  said  De  Beauvais,  hastily  turning  to- 
ward me,  as  if  anxious  to  engage  my  at- 
tention. 

"  Yes  ;  the  haitieme,"  said  I ;  "  do  you 
know  them  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  have  few  acquaintances  in  the 
'  army. " 

"His  father,  sir,"  said  the  Prefet,  with 
a  voice  of  considerable  emphasis,  "  was  an 
old  garde  du  corps  in  those  times  when 
the  sword  was  only  worn  by  gentlemen." 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  the  army," 
whispered  the  Abbe  in  an  undertone,  that 
was  sufficiently  audible  to  the  rest  to  cause 
an  outbreak  of  laughter. 

"And  when,"  continued  the  Prefet,  un- 
disturbed by  the  interruption,  "birth  had 
its  privileges." 

"  Among  the  rest,  that  of  being  the  first 
beheaded,"  murmured  the  inexorable  Abbe. 

"  Were  truffles  dear  before  the  Revolu- 
tion, Prefet?"  said  De  Beauvais,  with  a 
half-impertinent  air  of  simplicity. 

"No,  sir  ;  nothing  was  dear  save  the 
king's  favor. 

"Which  could  also  be  had  for  paying 
for,"  quoth  the  Abbe. 

"  The  Moniteur  of  this  evening,  gentle- 
men," said  the  waiter,  entering  Avith  the 
paper,  whose  publication  had  been  delayed 
some  two  hours  beyond  the  usual  period. 

"Ah,  let  us  see  what  we  have  here,"  said 


De  Beauvais,  opening  the  journal  and  read- 
ing aloud  : 

"  '  General  Espinasse  is  appointed  to  the 
command  of  the  fourth  corps,  stationed  at 
Lille,  and  Major-General  Lannes  to  the 
fortress  of  Montreil,  vacant  by — '  No  mat- 
ter— here  it  is.  'Does  the  English  Gov- 
ernmenl  suppose  that  France  is  one  of  her 
Indian  possessions,  without  the  means  to 
declare  her  wrongs,  or  the  power  to  avenge 
them  ?  Can  they  believe  that  rights  are  not 
reciprocal,  and  that  the  observance  of  one 
contracting  party  involves  nothing  on  the 
part  of  the  other  ? '  " 

"  There,  there,  De  Beauvais,  don't  worry 
us  with  that  tiresome  nonsense." 

"  ;  Or,'  continued  the  Marquis,  still 
reading  aloud,  '  do  they  presume  to  say, 
that  we  shall  issue  no  commercial  instruc- 
tions to  our  agents  abroad,  lest  English 
susceptibility  should  be  wounded  by  any 
prospect  of-  increased  advantages  to  our 
trade. " 

"Our  trade  !  "  echoed  the  Prefet,  with 
a  most  contemptuous  intonation  on  the 
word. 

"Ah!  for  those  good  old  times,  when 
there  was  none  !  "  said  the  Abbe,  with  such 
a  semblance  of  honest  sincerity  as  drew  an 
approving  smile  from  the  old  man. 

"Hear  this,  Prefet,"  said  De  Beauvais  : 
"  'From  the  times  of  Colbert  to  the  pres- 
ent'— what  think  you  ?  the  allusion,  right 
royal,  is  it  not  ? — '  From  the  times  of  Col- 
bert our  negotiations  have  been  always  con- 
ducted in  this  manner.'  " 

"  Sir,  I  beseech  you  read  no  more  of  that 
intolerable  nonsense." 

"And  here,"  continued  the  Marquis, 
"follows  a  special  invocation  of  the  bene- 
diction of  Heaven  on  the  just  efforts  which 
France  is  called  on  to  make,  to  repress  the 
insolent  aggression  of  England — Abbe,  this 
concerns  you." 

"Of  course,"  said  he,  meekly.  "I  am 
quite  prepared  to  pray  for  the  party  in 
power  :  if  Heaven  but  leaves  them  there,  I 
must  conclude  they  deserve  it." 

A  doubtful  look,  as  if  he  but  half  under- 
stood him,  was  the  only  reply  the  old  Pre- 
fet made  to  this  speech  ;  at  which  the 
laughter  of  the  others  could  no  longer  be 
repressed,  and  burst  forth  most  heartily. 

"  But  let  us  read  on.  Whose  style  is 
this,  think  you  ? — 'France  possessed  with- 
in her  dominion  every  nation  from  the 
North  Sea  to  the  Adriatic  ;  and  how  did 
she  employ  her  power  ? — in  restoring  to 
Batavia  self-government,  in  giving  liberty 
to  Switzerland,  and  in  ceding  Venice  to 
Austria,  while  the  troops  at  the  very  gates 
of  Vienna  are  halted  and  repass  the  Rhine 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


335 


once  more.  Are  these  the  evidences  of  am- 
bition— are  these  the  signs  of  that  over- 
weening lust  of  territory  with  which  Eng- 
land dares  to  reproach  us  ?  And  if  such 
passions  prevailed,  what  was  easier  than  to 
have  indulged  them  ?  Was  not  Italy  our 
own  ?  Were  not  Batavia,  Switzerland,  Por- 
tugal, all  ours  ?  But  no,  peace  was  the  desire 
of  the  nation — peace  at  any  cost.  The  col- 
ony of  St.  Domingo,  that  immense  territory, 
was  not  conceived  a  sacrifice  too  great  to 
secure  such  a  blessing. ' " 

"  Par 'dieu  !  De  Beauvais,  I  can  bear  it. 
no  longer." 

"  You  must  let  me  give  you  the  reverse 
of  the  medal.  Hear  now  what  England 
has  done." 

"  He  writes  well,  at  least  for  the  taste  of 
newspaper  readers,"  said  the  Abbe  musing- 
ly;  "  but  still  he  only  understands  the  pen 
as  he  does  the  sword  ;  it  must  be  a  weapon 
of  attack." 

"  Who  is  the  writer,  then  ?  "said  I,  in  a 
half- whisper. 

"  Who  ! — can  you  doubt  it  ? — Bonaparte 
himself.  What  other  man  in  France  would 
venture  to  pronounce  so  authoritatively  on 
the  prospects  and  the  intentions  of  the  na- 
tion ?  " 

"Or  who,"  said  the  Abbe,  in  his  dry  man- 
ner, "could  speak  with  such  accuracy  of 
the  '  Illustrious  and  Magnanimous  Chief ' 
that  rules  her  destinies." 

"It  is  growing  late,"  said  the  Prefet, 
with  the  air  of  one  who  took  no  pleasure  in 
the  conversation,  "  and  I  start  for  Eouen 
to-morrow  morning. " 

"  Come,  come,  Prefet,  one  bumper 
before  we  part,"  said  De  Beauvais  ;  "  some- 
thing has  put  you  out  of  temper  this  even- 
ing ;  yet  I  think  I  know  a  toast  can  restore 
you  to  good  humor  again." 

The  old  man  lifted  his  hand  with  a 
gesture  of  caution,  while  he  suddenly 
directed  a  look  toward  me. 

"No,  no;  don't  be  afraid,  said  Do 
Beauvais,  laughing ;  "  I  think  you'll  acquit 
me  of  any  rashness  :  fill  up,  then,  and  here 
let  us  drink  one  in  the  old  palace  of  the 
Tuileries,  who,  at  this  moment,  can  bring 
us  back  in  memory  to  the  most  glorious 
days  of  our  country." 

"  Parclieu !  that  must  be  the  First 
Consul,  I  suppose,"  whispered  the  Abbe 
to  the  Prefet,  who  dashed  his  glass  with 
such  violence  on  the  table  as  to  smash  it 
in  a  hundred  pieces. 

"See  what  comes  of  impatience,"  cried 
De  Beauvais,  laughing;  "and  now  you 
iiave  not  wherewithal  to  pledge  my  fair 
cousin  the  'Rose  of  Provence.'" 

"The  Eose  of  Provence,"  said  each  in 


turn,  while,  excited  by  the  wine,  of  which 
I  bad  drank  freely,  and  carried  away  by 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  moment,  I  re-echoed 
the  words  in  such  a  lone  as  drew  even- 
eye  upon  me. 

"Ah!  yen  know  my  cousin,  then?'1 
said  De  Beauvais,  looking  at  me  with  a 
strange  mixture  of  curiosity  and  astonish- 
ment. 

"No,"  said  I,  "I  have  seen  her— I  saw 
her  this  evening  at  the  Palace." 

"  Well,  I  must  present  you,"  said  he, 
smiling  good-naturedly. 

Before  1  could  mutter  my  acknowledg- 
ment, the  party  had  risen,  and  were  taking 
leave  of  each  other  for  the  night. 

"I -shall  see  you  soon  again,  Burke," 
said  De  Beauvais,  as  he  pressed  my  hand 
warmly;  "  and  now,  adieu."  With  thai 
we  parted ;  and  I  took  my  way  back 
toward  the  Potytechnique,  my  mind  full 
of  the  strange  incidents  of  this  the  most 
eventful  night  in  my  quiet  and  monoto- 
nous existence. 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

THE    "  TWO   VISITS." 

Amid  all  the  stirring  duties  of  the  next 
day — amid  all  the  excitement  of  a  new 
position — my  mind  recurred  continually  to 
the  events  of  the  previous  twenty-four 
hours.  Now  dwelling  on  the  soiree  at  the 
Palace — the  unaccustomed  splendor,  the 
rank,  the  beauty  I  had  witnessed  ;  now 
on  that  eventful  moment  I  spent  behind 
the  screen  ;  then  on  my  strange  rencon- 
tre with  my  antagonist,  and  that  still 
stranger  supper  that  followed  it. 

It  was  not,  indeed,  "without  certain 
misgivings,  which  I  could  neither  account 
for  nor  dismiss  from  my  mind,  that  I 
reflected  on  the  character  and  conversa- 
tion of  my  new  associates. 

The  tone  of  levity  in  which  they  dared 
to  speak  of  him  whose  name  was  to  me 
something  bordering  on  idolatry — the  lib- 
erty with  which  they  ventured  to  canvass 
his  measures  and  his  opinions,  even  to 
ridiculing  them,  were  so  many-puzzles  to 
my  mind  ;  and  I  half  reproached  myself 
for  having  tamely  listened  to  language 
which  now,  as  I  thought  over  it,  seemed 
to  demand  my  notice.  Totally  ignorant  of 
all  political  intrigue — unconscious  that  any 
party  did  or  could  exist  in  France,  save 
that  of  the  First  Consul  himself,  I  could 
find  no  solution  to  the  enigma,  and  at  last 
began  to  think  that  I  had  been  exagge- 
rating to  myself  the  words  I  had  heard. 


33G 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


and  permitting  my  ignorance  to  weigh  with 
me,  where,  with  more  knowledge,  I  should 
have  seen  nothing  reprehensible.     And  if 

the  spirit  in  which  they  discussed  the  acts 
of  Bonaparte  differed  from  what  I  had 
been  accustomed  to,  might  if  not  rather 
proceed  from  my  own  want  of  acquaintance 
with  the  usages  of  society,  than  any  defi- 
ciency in  attachment  on  their  sides  ?  The 
prefet  was,  of  course,  as  an  officer  of  the 
government,  no  mean  judge  of  what 
became  him — the  abbe,  too,  as  a  man  of 
education  and  in  holy  orders,  was  equally 
unlikely  to  express  unbecoming  opinions; 
the  Russian  scarcely  spoke  at  all ;  and  as 
for  De  Beauvais,  his  careless  and  headlong 
impetuosity  made  me  feel  easy  on  his 
score  ;  and  so  I  reasoned  myself  into  the 
conviction  that  it  was  only  the  ordinary 
bearing  and  everyday  habit  of  society  to 
speak  thus  openly  of  one  who,  in  the 
narrower  limits  of  our  little  world,  was 
deemed  something  to  worship. 

Shall  I  own  what  then  I  could  scarcely 
have  confessed  to  myself,  that  the  few 
words  De  Beauvais  spoke  at  parting — the 
avowed  cousinship  with  her  they  called 
"La  Rose  de  Provence'*'  did  much  to 
induce  this  conviction  on  my  mind  ? 
while  his  promise  to  present  me  was  a 
pledge  I  could  not  possibly  believe  con- 
sistent with  any  but  right  loyal  thoughts 
and  honest  doctrines.  Still,  1  would  have 
given  anything  for  one  friend  to  advise 
with — one  faithful  counselor  to  aid  me. 
But  again  was  I  alone  in  the  world,  and, 
save  the  short  and  not  over-flattering  recep- 
tion of  my  colonel,  I  had  neither  seen  nor 
spoken  to  one  of  my  new  corps. 

That  evening  I  joined  my  regiment  and 
took  up  my  quarters  in  the  barracks,  where 
already  the  rumor  of  important  political 
events  had  reached  the  officers  ;  and  they 
stood  in  groups  discussing  the  chances  of 
a  war,  or  listening  to  the  Moniteur,  which 
was  read  out  by  one  of  the  party.  What  a 
strange  thrill  it  sent  through  me  to  think 
that  I  was  privy  to  the  deepest  secret  of 
that  important  step  on  which  the  peace  of 
Europe  was  resting — that  I  had  heard  the 
very  words  as  they  fell  from  the  lips  of 
him  on  whom  the  destiny  of  millions  then 
depended.  With  what  a  different  interpre- 
tation to  me  came  those  passages  in  the  gov- 
ernment journal  which  breathed  of  peace, 
and  spoke  of  painful  sacrifices  to  avoid  a 
war,  for  which  already  his  very  soul  was 
thirsting;  and  how,  to  my  young  heart, 
did  that  passion  for  glory  exalt  him  who 
could  throw  all  into  the  scale.  The  proud 
position  he  occupied — the  mighty  chief  of 
a  mighty  nation — the  adulation  in  which 


he  daily  lived— the  gorgeous  splendor  of  a 
Court,  no  country  in  Europe  equaled- all 
these,  and  more — his  future  destiny — did 
be  el  upon  the  cast  for  the  great  game  his 
manly  spirit  gloried  in. 

In  such  thoughts  as  these  I  lived  as  in 
a  world  of  my  own  ;  companionship  I  had 
none.  My  brother  officers,  with  few  ex- 
ceptions, hail  risen  from  the  ranks,  and 
were  of  that  class  which  felt  no  pleasure 
save  in  the  coarse  amusements  of  the  bar- 
rack-room, or  the  vulgar  jests  of  the  ser- 
vice. The  better  classes  lived  studiously 
apart  from  these,  and  made  no  approaches 
to  intimacy  with  any  newly- joined  officer 
with  whose  family  and  connections  they 
were  unacquainted  ;  and  I,  from  my  change 
of  country,  stood  thus  alone,  unacknowl- 
edged and  unknown.  At  first  this  isolation 
pained  and  grieved  me,  but  gradually  it 
became  less  irksome  ;  and  when  at  length 
they  who  had  at  first  avoided  and  shunned 
my  intimacy  showed  themselves  disposed  to 
know  me,  my  pride,  which  before  would 
have  been  gratified  by  such  an  acknowl- 
edgment, was  now  wounded,  and  I  coolly 
declined  their  advances. 

Some  weeks  passed  in  this  manner, 
during  which  I  never  saw  or  heard  of  De 
Beauvais,  and  at  length  began  to  feel  some- 
what offended  at  the  suddenness  with  which 
he  seemed  to  drop  an  intimacy  begun  at 
his  own  desire  ;  when  one  evening,  as  I  had 
returned  to  my  barrack-room  after  parade, 
I  heard  a  knock  at  my  door.  I  rose  and 
opened  it,  wdien,  to  my  surprise,  I  beheld 
De  Beauvais  before  me.  He  was  much 
thinner  than  wdien  I  last  saw  him,  and  his 
dress  and  appearance  all  betokened  far  less 
of  care  and  attention. 

"Are  these  your  quarters  ?"  said  he, 
entering  and  throwing  a  cautious  look 
about.     "  Are  you  alone  here  ?" 

<  '  Yes, "  said  I,  < '  perfectly. " 

"  You  expect  no  one  ?  " 

"Not  any,"  said  I  again,  still  more  sur- 
prised at  the  agitation  of  his  manner,  and 
the  evident  degree  of  anxiety  he  labored 
under. 

"Thank  Heaven  !"  said  he,  drawing  a 
deep  sigh  as  he  threw  himself  on  my  little 
camp-bed,  and  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands. 

Seeing  that  something  weighed  heavily 
on  him,  I  half  feared  to  interfere  with  the 
current  of  his  thoughts,  and  merely  drew 
my  chair  and  sat  down  beside  him. 

"I  say,  Burke,  mon  cher,  have  you  any 
wine  ?  Let  me  have  a  glass  or  two,  for, 
save  some  galette,  and  that  not  the  best 
either,  I  have  tasted  nothing  these  last 
twenty-f on r  hours. " 


BEFORE   ME,  SCARCELY   A   DOZEN   PACES,  AND  ALONE.  SHE    STOOD,    LOOKING    ON    THE   CALM    LAKB. 

(P.  860  ^ 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OUItsr 


537 


I  s^oon  set  before  him  the  contents  of  my 
humble  larder,  and  in  a  few  moments  he 
rallied  a  good  deal,  and  looking  up  with  a 
smile,  said, 

"I  think  yon  have  been  cultivating  your 
education  as  gourmand  since  I  saw  you. 
Thai  pasty  is  worthy  our  friend  in  the 
Palais  Royale.  Well,  and  how  have  you 
been  since  we  met  ?  " 

"•Let  me  rather  ask  you, "  said  I.  "  You 
are  not  looking  so  well  as  the  last  time  I 
saw  you.     Have  you  been  ill  ?  " 

"111  !  no,  not" ill.  Yet  I  can't  say  so; 
for  I  have  suffered  a  good  deal,  too.  No, 
my  friend  ;  I  have  had  much  to  harass 
and  distress  me.  I  have  been  traveling, 
too,  long  distances  and  weary  ones  — met 
.some  disappointments,  and  altogether  the 
world  has  not  gone  so  well  with  me  as  I 
think  it  ought.  And  now  of  you— what  of 
yourself  ?  " 

"Alas!"  said  I,  "if  you  have  met 
much  to  annoy,  I  have  only  lived  a  dull 
life  of  daily  monotony.  If  it  has  had  little 
to  distress,  there  is  fully  as  little  to  cheer  ; 
and  I  half  suspect  the  fine  illusions  I  used 
to  picture  to  myself  of  a  soldier's  career 
had  very  little  connection  with  reality." 

As  De  Beauvais  seemed  to  listen  with 
more  attention  than  such  a  theme  would 
naturally  call  for,  I  gradually  was  drawn 
into  a  picture  of  my  barrack  life,  in  which 
I  dwelt  at  length  on  my  own  solitary  posi- 
tion, and  the  want  of  that  companionship 
which  formed  the  chief  charm  of  my 
schoolboy  life.  To  all  this  he  paid  a 
marked  attention — now  questioning  me  on 
some  unexplained  point — now  agreeing  with 
me  in  what  I  said  by  a  word  or  a  gesture. 

"And  do  you  know,  Burke,"  said  he, 
interrupting  me  in  my  description  of  those 
whose  early  coldness  of  manner  had  chilled 
my  first  advances — "  and  do  you  know," 
said  he,  impetuously,  "  who  these  aristo- 
crats are  ?  The  sons  of  honest  bourgeois 
of  Pans.  Their  fathers  are  worthy  men  of 
the  Rue  Vivienne  or  the  Palais — excellent 
people,  I've  no  doubt ;  but  very  far  better 
judges  of  point  lace  and  pate  de  Pcrigord7 
than  disputed  precedence  and  armorial 
quarterings.  Far  better  the  others,  the 
humble  soldiers  of  fortune,  whose  highest 
pride  is  their  own  daring,  their  own  un- 
daunted heroism.  Well,  well,"  added  he, 
after  a  pause,  "I  must  get  you  away  from 
this. — I  can  manage  it  in  a  day  or  two. 
You  shall  be  sent  down  to  Versailles  with 
a  detachment." 

I  could  not  help  starting  with  surprise  at 
these  words,  and  through  all  the  pleasure 
they  gave  me  my  astonishment  was  still 
predominant. 

vol.  i.— 22 


"  I  see  you  arc  amazed  at  what  I  say,  hut 
it's  not  so  wonderful  as  yon  think.  My 
cousin  has  only  to  him  to  Madame  Bona- 
parte, who  is  at  pre*  re,  and  the 
tiling  is  done." 

I  blushed  deeply  as  I  thought  of  the 
agency  through  which  niv  wishi  were  to 
meet  accomplishment,  and  turned  away  to 
hide  my  embarrassment. 

"By-the-by,  1  have  nol  presented  you  to 
her  yet,  I've  had  no  opportunity;  but 
now  I  shall  do  so  at  once." 

"Pray,    tell   me   your   cousin's  name," 
said  I,  anxious  to  say  anything  to  con. 
my  confusion.       "  I've  only  heard  her  call- 
ed '  La  Rose  de  Provence.'  " 

"  Yes,  that  was  a  silly  fancy  of  Madame  la 
Consulesse,  because  Marie  i-  Provencale. 
But  her  name  is  De  Rochfort,  at  least  her 
mother's  name  ;  for,  by  another  caprice, 
she  was  forbidden  by  Bonaparte  to  bear  her 
father's  name.  But  this  is  rather  a  - 
topic  with  me.  Let  us  change  it.  How 
did  you  like  my  friends  the  other  evening  ? 
The  Abbe  is  agreeable,  is  he  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  hesitating  somewhat, 
"  but  I  am  so  unaccustomed  to  hear  Gen- 
eral Bonaparte  discussed  so  freely — " 

"That  absurd  Polytechnique  ! "  inter- 
rupted De  Beauvais.  "  How  many  a  fine 
fellow  has  it  spoiled  with  its  ridiculous  no- 
tions and  foolish  prejudices  !" 

"Come,  come,"  saul  I,  "you  must  not 
call  prejudices  the  attachment  which  I,  and 
all  who  wear  an  epaulette,  feel  in  our  glo- 
rious chief.  There,  there  ;  don't  laugh,  or 
you'll  provoke  me  ;  for  if  I,  an  alien,  feel 
this,  how  should  you,  who  are  a  Frenchman 
born,  sympathize  with   such  a  proud   ca- 


reer 


p„ 


"  If  you  talk  of  sympathy,  Burke,  let  me 
ask  you,  have  you  ever  heard  speak  of  cer- 
tain old  families  of  these  realms,  avIio  have 
been  driven  forth  and  expatriated  to  seek  a 
home  among  strangers,  themselves  the  de- 
scendants of  the  fairest  chivalry  of  our  land 
— the  proud  scions  of  St.  Louis— and  has 
your  sympathy  never  strayed  across  sea  to 
mingle'  with  their  sorrows'?"  His  voice 
trembled  as  he  spoke,  and  a  large  tear  filled 
his  eye  and  tracked  its  way  along  his  cheek, 
as  the  last  word  vibrated  on  his  tongue  : 
and  then,  as  if  suddenly  remembering  how 
far  he  had  been  carried  away  by  momen- 
tary impulse,  he  added,  in  an  altered  voice  : 
"But  what  have  we  to  do  with  these 
things  ?  Our  road  is  yet  to  be  traveled  by 
either  of  us.  Yours  a  fair  path  enough,  if 
it  only  fulfill  its  early  promise.  The  for- 
tunate fellow  that  can  win  his  grade  while 
yet  a  schoolboy — " 

"  How  came  you  to  know  ? — " 


338 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


"  Oh  !  I  know  more  than  that,  Burke  ; 
and  believe  me,  if  my  foolish  conduct 
the  first  day  we  met  had  led  to  anything 

disastrous,  I  should  have  passed  a  life  of 
sorrow  for  it  ever  after  ;  but  we  shall  have 
time  enough  to  talk  over  all  these  matters 
in  the  green  alleys  of  Versailles,  where  I 
hope  to  see  you  before  a  week  be  over. 
Great  events  may  happen  ere  long,  too. 
Burke,  you  don't  know  it,  but  I  can  tell 
you,  a  war  with  England  is  at  this  moment 
on  t  he  eve  of  declaration. " 

"Perhaps,"  said  I,  somewhat  piqued  by 
the  tone  of  superiority  in  which  he  had 
spoken  for  some  minutes,  and  anxious  to 
assume  for  myself  a  position  which,  I  for- 
got, conferred  no  credit  by  the  manner  of 
tainment,  "I  know  more  of  that  than 
you  are  aware  of." 

"  Oh,"  replied  he,  carelessly,  "  the  gossip 
of  a  mess  is  but  little  to  be  relied  on.  The 
'  sabreurs '  will  always  tell  you  that  the 
order  to  march  is  given." 

"I  don't  mean  that,"  said  I,  haughtily. 
"  My  information  has  a  higher  source — the 
highest  of  all  —  General  Bonaparte  him- 
self." 

"  How  ! — what ! — Bonaparte  himself  ?  " 

"  Listen  to  me,"  said  I ;  and,  hurried  on 
by  a  foolish  vanity  and  a  strange  desire  I 
cannot  explain,  to  make  a  confidant  in 
what  I  felt  to  be  a  secret  too  weighty  for 
my  own  bosom,  I  told  liim  all  that  I  had 
overheard  when  seated  behind  the  screen  in 
the  salon  at  the  Tuileries. 

"You  heard  this — you,  yourself,"  cried 
he,  as  his  eyes  flashed,  and  he  grasped  my 
arm  with  an  eager  grip. 

"Yes,  with  my  own  ears  I  heard  it," 
said  I,  half  trembling  at  the  disclosure  I 
made,  and  ready  to  give  all  I  possessed  to 
recall  my  words. 

"  My  friend,  my  dear  friend,"  said  he, 
impetuously,  "you  must  hesitate  no  long- 
er— be  one  of  us." 

I  started  at  the  words,  and,  growing  pale 
with  agitation  as  the  very  thought  of  the 
•importance  of  what  I  had  related  flashed 
across  me,  I  stammered  out,  "  Take  care 
what  you  propose  to  me,  De  Beauvais.  I 
do  not,  I  cannot,  fathom  your  meaning 
now  ;  but  if  I  thought  that  anything  like 
treachery  to  the  First  Consul — that  any- 
thing traitorous  to  the  great  cause  of  liber- 
ty for  which  he  has  fought  and  conquered, 
was  meditated,  I'd  go  forthwith  and  tell 
him,  word  for  word,  all  I  have  spoken  now, 
even  though  the  confession  might,  as  it 
would,  humble  me  forever,  and  destroy  all 
my  future  hope  of  advancement." 

"And  be  well  laughed  at  for  your  pains, 
foolish    boy,"  said    he,  throwing   himself 


back  in  his  chair,  and  bursting  out  into  a 
tit  of  laughter.  "No,  no,  Burke,  you 
must  not  do  anything  half  so  ridiculous,  or 
my  pretty  cousin  could  never  look  at  you 
without  a  snnlc  ever  after;  and  a  propos 
of  that — when  shall  I  present  you  ?  That 
splendid  jacket,  and  all  that  finery  of  dol- 
man there,  will  make  sad  work  of  her  poor 
heart," 

1  blushed  deeply  at  the  silly  impetuosity 
I  'had  betrayed  myself  into,  and  muttered 
some  equally  silly  apology  for  it  ;  still, 
young  as  I  was,  I  could  perceive  that  my 
words  made  no  common  impression  on  him, 
and  would  have  given  my  best  blood  to  re- 
call them. 

"  Do  you  know,  De  Beauvais,"  said  I,  af- 
fecting as  much  of  coolness  as  I  could,  "do, 
you  know  I  half  regret  having  told  you  this. 
The  manner  in  which  I  heard  this  conver- 
sation— though,  as  you  will  see,  quite  in- 
voluntary on  my  part — should  have  pre- 
vented my  ever  having  repeated  it ;  and 
now  the  only  reparation  I  can  make  is,  to 
wait  on  my  colonel,  explain  the  whole  cir- 
cumstance, and  ask  his  advice." 
'  "  In  plain  words,  to  make  public  what  at 
present  is  only  confided  to  a  friend.  "Well, 
you  think  the  phrase  too  strong  for  one 
you  have  seen  but  twice — the  first  time  not 
exactly  on  terms  such  as  warrant  the 
phrase.  But  come,  if  you  can't  trust  me, 
I'll  see  if  I  can't  trust  you. " 

He  drew  at  these  words  a  roll  of  paper 
from  his  pocket,  and  was  proceeding  to  open 
it  on  the  table,  when  a  violent  knocking 
wras  heard  at  my  door. 

"  What's  that — who  can  it  be  ?  "  said  he, 
starting  up,  and  growing  pale  as  death. 

The  look  of  terror  in  his  face  appalled 
me,  and  I  stood,  not  able  to  reply,  or  even 
move  toward  the  door,  when  the  knocking 
was  repeated  much  louder,  and  I  heard  my 
name  called  out ;  pointing  to  a  closet  which 
led  from  the  room,  and  without  speaking  a 
word,  I  walked  forward  and  unlocked  the 
door ;  a  tall  man,  wrapped  in  a  blue  cloak, 
and  wearing  a  cocked-hat,  covered  with  oil- 
skin, stood  before  me,  accompanied  by  a 
sergeant  of  my  troop. 

"This  is  the  sous-lieutenant,  sir,"  said 
the  sergeant,  touching  his  cap. 

"That  will  do,"  replied  the  other; 
"you  may  leave  us  now."  Then  turning 
to  me,  he  added,  "May  I  have  the  favor  of 
a  few  minutes'  conversation  with  you,  Mr. 
Burke  ?  I  am  Monsieur  Gisquet,  chef  de 
police  of  the  department," 

A  trembling  ran  through  me  at  the 
words,  and  I  stammered  out  something 
scarce  audible  in  reply.  Monsieur  Gisquet 
followed  me  as  I  led  the  way  into  my  room, 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURSr 


339 


which  already  had  been  deserted  by  De 
Beauvais,  and,  casting  a  quick  glance 
around,  lie  leisurely  took  off  his  hat  and 
cloak  and  drew  a  chair  toward  the  tabic 

"Are  we  alone,  sir?"  said  he,  in  a 
measured  tone  of  voice,  while  his  eye  fell 
with  a  peculiar  meaning  on  a  chair  which 
stood  opposite  to  mine,  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  stove. 

"I  had  a  friend  with  me  when  you 
knocked,''  I  muttered,  in  a  broken  and 
uncertain  accent ;  "  but  perhaps — "  Before 
I  could  finish  my  sentence  the  door  of  the 
cabinet  slowly  opened,  and  De  Beauvais 
appeared,  but  so  metamorphosed,  I  could 
scarcely  recognize  him  ;  for,  short  as  the 
interval  was,  he  had  put  on  my  old  uniform 
of  the  Polytechnique,  which,  from  our 
similarity  in  height,  fitted  him  perfectly. 

'•'All  safe,  Tom,"  said  he,  stealing  out, 
with  an  easy  smile  on  his  countenance. 
"Par  St.  Denis!  I- thought  it  was  old 
Legrange  himself  come  to  look  for  me.  Ah, 
monsieur,  how  d'ye  do  ?  You  have  given 
me  a  rare  fright  to-night.  I  came  to  spend 
the  day  with  my  friend  here,  and,  as  ill- 
luck  would  have  it,  have  outstayed  my  time. 
The  t'cole  closes  at  nine,  so  that  I'm  in 
for  a  week's  arrest  at  least." 

"  A  cool  confession  this,  sir,  to  a  minister 
of  police,"  said  Gisquet,  sternly,  while  his 
dark  eyes  surveyed  the  speaker  from  head 
to  foot. 

"  Not  when  that  minister  is  called  Mon- 
sieur Gisquet,"  said  he,  readily,  and  bowing 
courteously  as  he  spoke. 

"  You  know  me,  then  ?  "  said  the  other, 
still  peering  at  him  with  a  sharp  look. 

"Only  from  your  likeness  to  a  little  boy 
m  my  company,"  said  he  :  "Henri  Gis- 
quet ;  a  fine  little  fellow  he  is,  and  one  of 
the  cleverest  in  the  school." 

"You  are  right,  sir,  he  is  my  son,"  said 
the  minister,  as  a  pleased  smile  passed  over 
his  swarthy  features.  "Come,  I  think  I 
must  get  you  safe  through  your  dilemma. 
Take  this  ;  the  officer  of  the  night  will  be 
satisfied  with  the  explanation,  and  Monsieur 
Legrange  will  not  hear  of  it." 

►So  saying,  he  seized  a  pen,  and  writing  a 
few  lines  rapidly  on  a  piece  of  paper,  he 
folded  it  note  fashion,  and  handed  it  toDe 
Beauvais. 

"A  handsome  ring,  sir,"  said  he,  sud- 
denly, and  holding  the  fingers  within  his 
own  ;  "  a  very  costly  one,  too." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  De  Beauvais,  blushing 
scarlet.      "  A  cousin  of  mine — " 

"Ha,  ha!  an  amourette,  too.  "Well, 
well,  young  gentleman,  no  need  of  further 
confessions.  Lose  no  more  time  here — 
ton  soir." 


"Adieu,  Burke,"  said  De  Beauvais, 
shaking  my  hand  with  a  peculiar  pressure. 

"Adieu,  Monsieur  Gisquet.  This  order 
will  pass  me  through  the  barrack,  won't 
it?" 

"  Yes  ;  to  be  sure.  You  need  fear  no 
interference  with  my  people  either,  go 
where  you  will  this  evening." 

"Thanks,  sir,  once  more,"  said  he,  and 
departed. 

"Now  for  our  business,  Mr.  Burke," 
said  the  minister,  opening  his  packet  of 
papers  before  him,  and  commencing  to  con 
over  its  contents.  "I  .-hall  ask  you  a  few 
questions,  to  which  you  will  please  to  reply 
with  all  the  accuracy  you  can  command, 
remembering  that  you  are  liable  to  be  called 
on  to  verify  any  statement  hereafter  on 
oath.  With  whom  did  you  speak  on  the 
evening  of  the  second  of  May,  at  the  soiree 
of  Madame  Bonaparte  ?" 

"I  scarcely  remember  if  I  spoke  to  any 
one  save  Madame  herself  ;  a  strange  gentle- 
man, whose  name  I  forget,  present*: d  me  : 
one  or  two  others,  also  unknown  to  me. 
may  have  spoken  a  passing  word  or  so  ;  and 
when  coming  away  I  met  Monsieur  de 
Beauvais." 

"  Monsieur  de  Beauvais  !  who  is  he  ?" 

"  Ma  foi,  I  can't  tell  you.  I  saw  him  the 
day  before  for  the  first  time  ;  we  renewed 
our  acquaintance,  and  we  supped  together." 

"At  Beauvilliers's  ? "  said  he,  inter- 
rupting. 

"Pardieu!  Monsieur,"  said  I,  somewhat 
stung  at  the  'espionage'  on  my  move- 
ments, "you  seem  to  know  everything  so 
well  already,  it  is  quite  needless  to  inter- 
rogate me  any  further." 

"Perhaps  not,"  replied  he,  coolly.  "I 
wish  to  have  the  names  of  the  party  you 
supped  with." 

"  Well,  there  was  one  who  was  called  the 
prefet,  a  large,  full,  elderly  man." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know  him,"  interrupted 
Gisquet  again  ;  "and  the  others  ?" 

"  There  was  an  abbe,  and  a  secretary  of 
the  Russian  mission." 

"  No  other  ?  "  said  he,  in  a  tone  of  dis- 
appointment. 

"  No  one,  save  De  Beauvais  and  myself 
— we  were  but  five  in  all." 

"  Did  no  one  come  in  during  the  even- 


ing 


?" 


"No,  not  any." 

"Nor  did  any  leave  the  party  ?" 

"No;  we  separated   at  the   same 

ment." 

"Who    accompanied    you    to   the 

racks  ? " 

"No  one.     I  returned  alone." 

"  And  this  Monsieur  De  Beauvais  ; 


bar- 


vou 


340 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


can't  toll  anything  of  him  ?     What  age  is 
he  ?  what  height  ?  " 

"  About  my  own,"  said  I,  blushing  deep- 
ly at  the  thought  of  the  events  of  a  few 
moments  back.  "  He  may  be  somewhat 
older;  but  lie  looks  not  much  more  than 
twenty-one  or  t  wo." 

"Have  you  mentioned  any  of  these  cir- 
cumstances to  any  of  your  brother  officers 
or  to  your  colonel  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  never." 

"  Very  right,  sir.  These  are  times  in 
which  discretion  is  of  no  common  import- 
ance. I  have  only  to  recommend  similar 
circumspection  in  future.  It  is  probable 
that  some  of  these  gentlemen  may  visit  you 
and  write  to  you — they  may  invite  you  to 
sup  or  to  dine  ;  if  so,  sir,  accept  the  invi- 
tation ;  be  cautious,  however,  not  to  speak 
of  this  interview  to  any  one.  Remember, 
sir,  I  am  the  messenger  of  one  who  never 
forgave  a  breach  of  trust,  but  who  also 
never  fails  to  reward  loyalty  and  attach- 
ment. If  you  be  but  prudent,  Mr.  Burke, 
your  fortune  is  certain." 

With  these  words,  Monsieur  Gisquet 
threw  his  cloak  over  his  shoulder,  and 
raising  his  hat,  bowed  formally  to  me,  and 
withdrew,  leaving  me  to  meditations  which, 
I  need  not  say,  were  none  of  the  happiest. 

If  my  fears  were  excited  by  the  thought 
of  the  acquaintances  I  had  so  rashly  formed, 
so  also  was  my  pride  insulted  by  the  system 
of  watching  to  which  my  movements  had 
been  subjected  ;  and  deeper  still,  by  the  in- 
sulting nature  of  the  proposal  the  minister 
of  police  had  not  scrupled  to  make  to 
me,  on  reflecting  over  which,  only,  did  I 
perceive  how  base  and  dishonorable  it 
was. 

"What! "asked  I  of  myself,  "is  it  a 
spy — is  it  a  false  underhand  betrayer  of  the 
men  into  whose  society  I  have  been  ad- 
mitted on  terms  of  friendly  intercourse  he 
would  make  of  me  ?  What  saw  he  in  me 
or  in  my  actions,  to  dare  so  far  ?  Was  not 
the  very  cloth  I  wear  enough  to  guard  me 
against  such  an  insult  ?  "  Then  came  the 
maddening  reflection,  "Why  had  I  not 
thought  of  this  sooner  ?  Why  had  I  not 
rejected  his  proposal  with  scorn,  and  told 
him  that  I  was  not  of  the  stuff  he  looked 
for  ?  " 

But  what  was  it  that  he  wished  to  learn? 
and  who  were  these  men,  and  what  were 
their  designs  ?  These  were  questions  that 
flashed  across  me,  and  I  trembled  to  think 
how  deeply  implicated  I  might  become,  at 
any  moment,  in  plans  of  which  I  knew 
nothing — merely  from  the  imprudence  with 
which  I  had  made  their  acquaintance.  The 
escape  of  De  Beauvais,  if  discovered,  would 


also  inevitably  involve  me,  and  thus  did 
I  seem  hurried  along  by  a  train  of  in- 
cidents, without  will  or  concurrence,  each 
step  but  increasing  the  darkness  around 
me. 

That  Gisquet  knew  most  of  the  party  was 
clear  ;  De  Beauvais  alone  seemed  personally 
unknown  to  him.  What,  then,  did  he  want 
of  me  ?  Alas  !  it  was  a  tangled  web  I  could 
make  nothing  of — and  all  I  could  resolve 
on  was,  to  avoid  in  future  all  renewal  of 
intimacy  with  De  Beauvais,  to  observe  the 
greatest  circumspection  with  regard  to  all 
new  acquaintance,  and,  since  the  police 
thought  it  worth  their  while  to  set  spies 
upon  my  track,  to  limit  my  excursions,  for 
some  time  at  least,  to  the  routine  of  my 
duty,  and  the  bounds  of  the  barrack-yard. 
These  were  wise  resolutions,  and  if  some- 
what late  in  coming,  yet  not  without  their 
comfort ;  above  all,  because,  in  my  heart,  I 
felt  no  misgivings  of  affection,  no  lack  of 
loyalty  to  him  who  was  still  my  idol. 

""Well,  well,"  thought  I,  "something 
may  come  of  this — perhaps  a  war ;  if  so, 
happy  shall  I  be  to  leave  Paris  and  nil  its 
intrigues  behind  me,  and  seek  distinction 
in  a  more  congenial  sphere,  and  under 
other  banners  than  a  police  minister  would 
afford  me." 

With  thoughts  like  these  I  fell  asleep  to 
dream  over  all  the  events  of  the  preceding 
day,  and  wake  the  next  morning  with  an 
aching  head  and  confused  brain — my  only 
clear  impression  being,  that  some  danger 
hung  over  me,  but  from  what  quarter,  and 
how,  or  in  what  way  it  was  to  be  met  or 
averted,  I  could  not  guess. 

The  whole  day  I  felt  a  feverish  dread  lest 
De  Beauvais  should  appear.  Something 
whispered  me  that  my  difficulties  were  to 
come  of  my  acquaintance  with  him,  and  I 
studiously  passed  my  time  among  my 
brother  officers,  knowing  that,  so  long  as  I 
remained  among  them,  he  was  not  likely  to 
visit  me  ;  and  when  evening  came,  I  gladly 
accepted  an  invitation  to  a  barrack-room 
supper,  which,  but  the  night  before,  I 
should  have  declined  without  hesitation. 

This  compliance  on  my  part  seemed 
well  taken  by  my  companions,  and,  in  their 
frank  and  cordial  reception  of  me,  I  felt  a 
degree  of  reproach  to  myself  for  my  having 
hitherto  lived  estranged  from  them.  We 
had  just  taken  our  places  at  table,  when 
the  door  was. flung  wide  open,  and  a  young 
captain  of  the  regiment  rushed  in,  waving 
a  paper  over  his  head,  as  he  called  out  : 

"  Good  news,  mes  braves,  glorious  news 
for  you!  Listen  to  this:  'The  English 
ambassador  has  demanded  his  passports, 
and  left  Paris  ;  expresses  are  sent  off  to  the 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


341 


fourth  corps,  to  move  toward  the  coast ; 
twelve  regiments  have  received  orders  to 
march  ;  so  that  before  my  Lord  leaves  Ca- 
lais, he  may  witness  a  review  of  the  ar- 
my." 

"  Is  this  true  ?  " 

"It  is  all  certain." 

"Read  it,  here's  the  Moniteur,  with  the 
official  announcement." 

In  an  instant  a  dozen  heads  were  bent 
over  the  paper,  each  eager  to  scan  the  para- 
graph so  long  and  ardently  desired. 

"Come,  Burke,  I  hope  you  have  not 
forgotten  your  English,"  said  the  Major  ; 
"we  shall  want  you  soon  to  interpret  for 
us  in  London,  if,  pardieu,  we  can  ever 
find  our  way  through  the  fogs  of  that  ill- 
starred  island." 

I  hung  my  head  without  speaking — the 
miserable  isolation  of  him  who  has  no 
country,  is  a  sad  and  sickening  sense  of 
want  no  momentary  enthusiasm,  no  im- 
pulse of  high  daring,  can  make  up  for. 
Happily  for  me,  all  were  too  deeply  in- 
terested in  the  important  news  to  remark 
me,  or  pay  any  attention  to  my  feelings. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE   MARCH   TO  VERSAILLES. 

They  who  remember  the  excited  state 
of  England  on  the  rupture  of  the  peace 
of  Amiens — the  spirit  of  military  ardor 
that  animated  every  class  and  condition  of 
life — the  national  hatred,  carried  to  the 
highest  pitch  by  the  instigations  and  at- 
tack of  a  violent  press,  can  yet  form  but 
an  imperfect  notion  of  the  mad  enthusiasm 
that  prevailed  in  France  on  the  same  occa- 
sion. 

The  very  fact  that  there  was  no  deter- 
minate and  precise  cause  of  quarrel,  added 
to  the  exasperation  on  both  sides.  It  was 
less  like  the  warfare  of  two  great  nations, 
than  the  personal  animosity  of  two  high- 
spirited  and  passionate  individuals,  who, 
having  interchanged  words  of  insult,  re- 
solve on  the  sword,  as  the  only  arbiter  be- 
tween them. 

All  that  the  long  rivalry,  of  centuries, 
national  dislike,  jealousy  in  every  form, 
and  ridicule  in  a  thousand  shapes,  could 
suggest,  were  added  to  the  already  exist- 
ing hate,  and  gave  to  the  coming  contest  a 
character  of  the  blackest  venom.  In  Eng- 
land, the  tyrannic  rule  of  Bonaparte  gave 
deep  offense  to  all  true  lovers  of  liberty, 
and  save  rise  to  fears  of  what  the  condition 


of  their  own  country  would  become,  should 
he  continue  to  increase  his  power  by  con- 
quest. In  France,  the  rapid  ri  e  '<>  honor 
and  wealth,  the  career  of  arm  ingular- 

ly  favored,  made  partisans  of  war  in  every 
quarter   of    the    kingdom.      'I  ceful 

arts  were  but  mean  pursuits  compared 
with  that  royal  road  to  rank  and  riches, 
the  field  of  battle  ;  and  their  self-interest 
lent  its  share  in  forming  the  spirit  of  hos- 
tility, which  wanted  no  element  of  hatred 
to  make  it  perfect. 

Paris,  where  so  lately  nothing  was  heard 
save  the  roll  of  splendid  equipages — 
the  din  of  that  gay  world  whose  business 
is  amusement — where  amid  gilded  salons 
the  voluptuous  habits  of  the  Consulate, 
mixed  with  the  less  courtly  but  scarce  less 
costly  display  of  military  splendor,  became 
now  like  a  vast  camp.  Regiments  poured 
in  daily  to  resume  their  march  the  next 
morning  ;  the  dull  rumble  of  ammunition- 
wagons  and  caissons,  the  warlike  clank  of 
mounted  cavalry,  awoke  the  citizens  at 
daybreak  ;  the  pickets  of  hussar  corps  and 
the  dusty  and  travel-stained  infantry  sol- 
diers filled  the  streets  at  nightfall :  yet, 
through  all,  the  mad  gayety  of  this  excited 
nation  prevailed.  The  cafes  were  crowded 
with  eager  and  delighted  faces  ;  the  tables 
spread  in  the  open  air  were  occupied  by 
groups,  whose  merry  voices  and  ready 
laughter  attested  that  war  was  the  pastime 
of  the  people,  and  the  very  note  of  prepa- 
ration a  tocsin  of  joy  and  festivity.  The 
walls  were  placarded  with  inflammatory 
addresses  to  the  patriotism  and  spirit  of 
France.  The  papers  teemed  with  artful 
and  cleverly- written  explanations  of  the 
rupture  with  England,  in  which  every 
complaint  against  that  country  was  mag- 
nified, and  every  argument  put  forward  to 
prove  the  peaceful  desires  of  that  nation, 
whose  present  enthusiasm  for  war  was  an  un- 
happy commentary  on  the  assertion.  The 
good  faith  of  France  was  extolled — the 
moderation  of  the  First  Consul  dwelt  up- 
on;  and  the  treachery  of  that  "perfidious 
Albion,  that  respected  not  the  faith  of 
treaties,"  was  displayed  in  such  irrefraga- 
ble clearness,  that  the  humblest  citizen 
thought  the  cause  his  own,  and  felt  the 
coming  contest  the  ordeal  of  his  own  hon- 
or. 

All  the  souvenirs  of  the  former  wars 
were  invoked  to  give  spirit  to  the  approach- 
ing struggle,  and  they  were  sufficiently 
numerous  to  let  no  week  pass  over  without 
at  least  one  eventful  victory  to  commemo- 
rate. 

Xow  it  was  Kellerman's  cuirassiers, 
whose   laurel-wreathed   helmets   reminded 


342 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


the  passing  stranger  that  on  that  day  eight 
years  they  tore  through  the  dense  ranks  of 
the  Austj'ians,  and  sabred  fclie  gunners  at 
the  very  guns.  Now  it  was  the  Polish 
regiments  -the  steel-clad  lancers — who  pa- 
raded before  the  Tuileries,  in  memory  of 
the  proud  day  they  marched  through  Mon- 
ti-hello  with  that  awful  sentence  on  their 
banners,  "Venice  exists  no  longer."  Here 
were  corps  of  infantry,  intermingled  with 
dragoons,  pledging  each  other  as  they  pass- 
ed along;  while  the  names  of  Castiglione, 
Bassano,  and  Eoveredo  rang  through  the 
motley  crowd— the  very  children,  "les 
enfants  de  troupe,''''  seeme'd  filled  with  the 
warlike  enthusiasm  of  their  fathers  ;  and 
each  battalion,  as  it  moved  past,  stepped 
to  the  encouraging  shouts  of  thousands, 
who  gazed  with  envious  admiration  on  the 
heroes  of  their  country. 

Never  did  the  pent-up  feelings  of  a  nation 
find  vent  in  such  a  universal  torrent  of 
warlike  fervor  as  now  filled  the  land.  The 
clank  of  the  sabre  was  the  music  that 
charmed  the  popular  ear;  and  the  "co- 
quette vivandiere,"  as  shetripped  along  the 
gravel  avenues  of  the  Tuileries  gardens, 
was  as  much  an  object  of  admiration  as  the 
most  splendidly-attired  beauty  of  the  "  Fau- 
bourg St.  Germain;"  The  whole  tone  of 
society  assumed  the  feature  of  the  political 
emergency.  The  theaters  only  represented 
such  pieces  as  bore  upon  the  ancient  re- 
nown of  the  nation  in  arms — its  victories 
and  conquests.  The  artists  painted  no 
other  subjects  ;  and  the  literature  of  the 
period  appealed  to  few  other  sympathies 
than  are  found  in  the  rude  manners  of  the 
guard-room,  or  around  the  watch-fires  of 
the  bivouac.  Pegault  Lebrun  was  the  pop- 
ular author  of  the  day  ;  and  his  works  are 
even  now  no  mean  indication  of  the  current 
tastes  and  opinions  of  the  period. 

The  predictions  too  hastily  made  by  the 
English  journals  that  the  influence  of  Bona- 
parte in  France  could  not  survive  the  rup- 
ture of  that  peace  which  had  excited  so 
much  enthusiasm,  were  met  by  a  burst  of 
national  unanimity  that  soon  dispelled  the 
delusive  hope.  Never  was  there  a  greater 
error  than  to  suppose  that  any  prospect  of 
commercial  prosperity,  any  vista  of  wealth 
and  riches,  could  compensate  to  French- 
men for  the  intoxication  of  that  glory  in 
which  they  lived  as  in  an  orgie.  Too  many 
banners  floated  from  the  deep  aisles  of  the 
"  Invalidcs  ;  "  too  many  cannon,  the  spoils 
of  the  Italian  and  German  wars,  bristled 
on  the  rampart,  not  to  recall  the  memory 
of  those  fete  days  when  a  bulletin  threw  the 
entire  city  into  a  frenzy  of  joy.  The  Lou- 
vre and  the  Luxembourg,  too,  were  filled 


with  the  treasures  of  conquered  states, 
and  these  are  not  the  guarantees  of  a  long 
peace. 

Such,  in  brief,  was  the  state  of  Paris  when 
the  declaration  of  war  by  Great  Britain  once 
more  called  the  nation  to  arms.  Every 
regiment  was  at  once  ordered  to  make  up  its 
full  complement  to  the  war  standard,  and 
the  furnaces  wore  employed  in  forging  shot 
and  casting  cannon  throughout  the  length 
and  breadth  of  France.  The  cavalry  corps 
were  stationed  about  St.  Omer  and  Com- 
piegne,  where  a  rich  corn  country  supplied 
forage  in  abundance.  Among  the  rest  the 
order  came  for  the  huitieme  to  march  ;  one 
squadron  only  was  to  remain  behind,  cho- 
sen to  execute  le  service  des  depeches  from 
St.  Cloud  and  Versailles  to  Paris,  and  to 
this  I  belonged. 

From  the  evening  of  Monsieur  Gisquet's 
visit  I  had  never  seen  or  heard  of  De  Beau- 
vais,  and  at  last  the  hope  grew  in  me  that 
we  Avere  to  meet  no  more,  when  suddenly 
the  thought  flashed  across  my  mind — this 
is  what  he  spoke  of  ;  he  ijromised  1  should 
be  sent  to  Versailles  !  Can  it  be  chance,  or 
is  this  his  doing  ?  These  were  difficult 
questions  to  solve,  and  gave  me  far  more 
embarrassment  than  pleasure.  My  fear 
that  my  acquaintance  with  him  was  in  the 
end  to  involve  me  in  some  calamity,  was  a 
kind  of  superstition  which  I  could  not  com- 
bat, and  I  resolved  at  once  to  see  my  colonel, 
with  whom,  happily,  I  was  now  on  the  best 
of  terms,  and  endeavor  to  exchange  with 
some  other  officer,  any  being  willing  to  ac- 
cept a  post  so  much  more  agreeable  than  a 
mere'  country  quarter.  I  found  the  old  man 
busied  in  the  preparations  for  departure; 
he  was  marking  out  the  days  of  march  to 
the  adjutant  as  I  entered. 

"Well,  Burke,"  said  he,  "you  are  the 
fortunate  fellow  this  time  ;  your  troop  re- 
mains behind." 

"  It  is  on  that  account,  sir,  I  am  come. 
You'll  think  my  request  a  strange  one,  but 
if  it  be  not  against  rule,  would  you  per- 
mit me  to  exchange  my  destination  with 
another  officer.?  " 

"What — eh  !  the  boy's  mad  !  Why  it's 
to  Versailles  you  are  going." 

"I  know,  sir  ;  but,  somehow,  I'd  rather 
remain  with  the  regiment." 

"  This  is  very  strange — I  don't  under- 
stand it,"  said  he,  leisurely  ;  "come here." 
With  that  he  drew  me  into  the  recess  of  a  win- 
dow where  we  could  talk  unheard  by  others. 
"  Burke,"  continued  he,  f<  I'm  not  the  man 
to  question  my  young  fellows  about  secrets 
which  they'd  rather  keep  for  themselves  $ 
but  there  is  something  here  more  than 
common.     Do  you  know  that  in  the  order 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


M3 


it  was  your  squadron  was  specially  marked 
out,  all  the  officers'  names  were  mentioned, 
and  yours  particularly,  for  Versailles  ?  " 

A  deadly  paleness  and  a  cold  chill  spread 
over  my  face  ;  I  tried  to  say  some  common- 
place, but  I  could  not  utter  more  than  the 
words,  "I  feared  it/'  Happily  for  me  he 
did  not  hear  them,  hut,  taking  my  hand 
kindly,  said  : 

"I  see  it  all;  some  youthful  folly  or 
other  would  make  you  better  pleased  to 
leave  Paris  just  now.  Never  mind,  stormy 
times  are  coming,  you'll  have  enough  on 
your  hands  presently  ;  and  let  me  advise 
you  to  make  the  most  of  your  time  at  Ver- 
sailles, for  if  I'm  not  mistaken  you'll  see 
much  more  of  camps  than  courts  for  some 
time  to  come. " 

The  rest  of  that  day  left  me  but  little 
time  for  reflection  ;  hut  in  such  short  in- 
tervals as  I  could  snatch  from  duty,  one 
thought  ever  rose  to  my  mind.  Can  this 
be  Do  Beauvais's  doing  ?  Has  he  had  any 
share  in  my  present  destination,  and  with 
what  object  ?  "  Well,"  said  I  to  myself  at 
last,  "these  are  but  foolish  fears  after  all, 
and  may  be  causeless  ones.  If  I  but  follow 
the  straight  path  of  my  duty,  what  need  I 
care  if  "the  whole  world  intrigued  and 
plotted  around  me  ?  And  after  all,  was  it 
not  most  likely  that  we  should  2iever  see 
each  other  again  ?  " 

The  day  was  just  breaking  when  we  left 
Paris  ;  the  bright  beams  of  a  May  morn- 
ing's sun  were  flickering  and  playing  in  the 
rippling  river  that  ran  cold  and  gray  be- 
neath ;  the  tall  towers  of  the  Tuileries 
threw  their  long  shadows  across  the  Place 
Carousel,  .where  a  dragoon  regiment  was 
encamped.  They  were  already  astir,  and 
some  of  the  men  were  standing  around  the 
fountains  with  their  horses,  and  others 
were  looking  after  the  saddles  and  accou- 
trements in  preparation  for  the  march  ;  a 
half-expiring  fire  here  and  there  marked 
where  some  little  party  had  been  sitting  to- 
gether, while  the  jars  and  flasks  about  be- 
spoke a  merry  evening.  A  trumpeter  sat, 
statue-like,  on  his  white  horse,  his  trumpet 
resting  on  his  knee,  surveying  the  whole 
scene,  and  as  if  deferring  to  the  last  the  wake- 
ful summons  that  should  rouse  some  of  his 
yet  sleeping  comrades.  I  could  see  thus 
much  as  we  passed.  Our  road  led  along 
the  quay  toward  the  Place  Louis  XV., 
where  an  infantry  battalion  with  four  guns 
was  picketed.  The  men  were  breakfasting 
and  preparing  for  the  route.  They  were 
part  of  the  grande  armee  under  orders  for 
Boulogne. 

We  soon  traversed  the  Champs  Elysees, 
and  entered  the  open  country.     For  some 


'miles  it  was  merely  a  succession  of  large 
corn-fields;  and  here  and  there  a  small 
\  ineyard,  thai  me1  the  eye  on  i  il  h  r  -i  le  ; 
bnl  as  we  proceeded  farther  we  were  girl  in 

by  rich  orchards  in  full  blossom,  the  whole 
air  loaded  with  t  he  perfume.  N<  a1  cot- 
tages peeped  from  the  woody  mclosures,  the 
trellised  walls  covered  with  honeysuckles 
and  wild  roses  ;  the  surface  too,  waE  undu- 
lating, and  waved  in  everj  imaginable direc- 
tion,offering  every  variety  of  hiil  and  vi 
precipice  and  plain,  in' even  the  smallest 
space.  As  yet  no  peasant  was  stirring,  no 
smoke  curled  from  a  single  chimney, 
and  all,  save  the  song  of  the  lark,  was 
silent.  It  was  a  peaceful  scene,  and  a 
strong  contrast  to  that  we  left  behind 
us;  and  whatever  ambitious  yea: 
filled  my  heart  as  1  looked  upon  the 
armed  ranks  of  the  mailed  cuirassiers, 
I  felt  a  deeper  sense  of  happiness  as  1  stray- 
ed along  those  green  alleys,  through  which 
the  sun  came  slanting  sparingly,  and  where 
the  leaves  only  stirred  as  their  winged  ten- 
ants moved  among  them. 

We  traveled  for  some  hours  through  the 
dark  paths  of  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  and 
again  emerged  in  a  country  wild  and  ver- 
dant as  before.  And  thus  passed  our  day, 
till  the  setting  sun  rested  on  the  tall  roof 
of  the  great  palace,  and  lit  up  every  window 
in  golden  splendor  as  we  entered  the  town 
of  Versailles. 

I  could  scarce  avoid  halting  as  I  rode  up 
the  wide  terrace  of  the  palace.  Never  had 
I  felt  before  the  overcoming  sense  of  gran- 
deur which  architecture  can  bestow.  The 
great  facade,  in  its  chaste  and  simple 
beauty,  stretched  away  to  a  distance,  where 
dark  lime-trees  closed  the  background, 
their  tall  summits  only  peeping  above  the 
lofty  terrace  in  which  the  chateau  stands. 
On  that  terrace,  too,  were  walking  a  crowd 
of  persons  of  the  court,  the  full-dress  cos- 
tumes showing  that  they  had  but  left  the 
talons  to  enjoy  the  cool  and  refreshing  air 
of  the  evening.  I  saw  some  turn  and  look 
after  our  travel-stained  and  dusty  party, 
and  confess  I  felt  a  half-sense  of  shame 
at  our  wayworn  appearance.  I  had  not 
long  to  suffer  such  mortification,  for  ere  we 
marched  more  than  a  few  minute*,  we  were 
joined  by  a  Marechal  de  Logis,  who  ac- 
companied us  to  our  quarters — one  of  the 
buildings  adjoining  the  palace — where  we 
found  everything  in  readiness  for  our  ar- 
rival ;  and  there  I,  to  my  surprise,  discov- 
ered that  a  most  sumptuous  supper  awaited 
me— a  politeness  I  was  utterly  a  stranger 
to,  not  being  over  cognizant  of  the  etiquette 
and  privilege  which  await  the  officer  on 
guard  at  a  royal  palace. 


344 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

THE   PARK  OF     VERSAILLES. 

Tiie  instructions  delivered  to  me  soon 
after  my  arrival  in  Versailles  convinced  me 

that  the  transmission  of  dispatches  was  not 
the  service  we  were  called  on  to  discharge, 
but  merely  a  pretense  to  blind  others  as  to 
our  presence  ;  the  real  duty  being  the  es- 
tablishment of  a  cordon  around  the  royal 
palace,  permitting  no  one  to  enter  or  pass 
within  the  precincts  who  was  not  provided 
with  a  regular  leave,  and  empowering  us  to 
detain  all  suspected  individuals,  and  for- 
ward them  for  examination  to  St.  Cloud. 

To  avoid  all  suspicion  as  to  the  true  ob- 
ject, the  men  were  ordered  to  pass  from 
place  to  place,  as  if  with  dispatches,  many 
being  stationed  in  different  parts  of  the 
park  ;  my  duty  requiring  me  to  be  contin- 
ually on  the  alert  to  visit  these  pickets,  and 
make  a  daily  report  to  the  Prefet  de  Police 
at  Paris. 

What  the  nature  of  the  suspicion,  or  from 
what  quarter  Monsieur  Savary  anticipated 
danger,  I  could  not  even  guess ;  and,  though 
I  well  knew  that  his  sources  of  information 
were  unquestionable,  I  began  at  last  to  thin  k 
that  the  whole  was  merely  some  plot  de- 
vised by  the  police  themselves,  to  display 
uncommon  vigilance  and  enhance  their  own 
importance.  This  conviction  grew  strong- 
er as  day  by  day  I  remarked  that  no  person 
more  than  ordinary  had  even  approached 
near  the  town  of  Versailles  itself,  while  the 
absurd  exactitude  of  inquiry  as  to  every  mi- 
nute thing  that  occurred  went  on  just  as  be- 
fore. 

While  my  life  passed  on  in  this  monot- 
onous fashion,  the  little  Court  of  Madame 
Bonaparte  seemed  to  enjoy  all  its  accustom- 
ed pleasure.  The  actors  of  the  Franyais 
came  down  expressly  from  Paris,  and  gave 
nightly  representations  in  the  palace  ;  four- 
gons  continued  to  arrive  from  the  capital 
with  all  the  luxuries  for  the  table  ;  new 
guests  poured  in  day  after  day,  and  the 
lighted-up  saloons,  and  the  sounds  of  music 
that  filled  the  court,  told  each  evening  that 
whatever  fear  prevailed  without,  the  minds 
of  those  within  the  palace  had  little  to 
cause  depression. 

It  was  not  without  a  feeling  of  wounded 
pride  I  saw  myself  omitted  in  all  the  in- 
vitations ;  for,  although  my  rank  was  not 
sufficient  of  itself  to  lead  me  to  expect  such 
an  attention,  my  position  as  the  officer  on 
guard  would  have  fully  warranted  the  .po- 
liteness, had  I  not  even  already  received 
marks  of  civility  while  in  Paris.  From 
time  to  time,  as  I  passed  through  the  park, 


I  came  upon  some  of  the  Court  party  ;  and 
it  was  with  a  sense  of  painful  humiliation 
1   observed  that  Madame   Bonaparte   had 

completely  forgotten  me,  while  from  one 
whose  indifference  was  more  galling  still, 
I  did  not  even  obtain  a  look  in  passing. 
How  had  I  forfeited  the  esteem  which  vol- 
untarily they  had  bestowed  on  me — the 
good  opinion  which  had  raised  me  from  an 
humble  cadet  of  the  Polytechnique  to  a 
commission  in  one  of  the  first  corps  in  the 
service  ?  Under  what  evil  influence  was  I 
placed  ?  Such  were  the  questions  that 
forced  themselves  on  me  night  and  day  ; 
that  haunted  my  path  as  I  walked,  and  my 
dreams  at  night.  As  the  impression  grew 
on  me,  I  imagined  that  every  one  I  met  re- 
garded me  with  a  look  of  distance  and  dis- 
trust ;  that  each  saw  in  me  one  who  had 
forfeited  his  fair  name  by  some  low  or  un- 
worthy action,  till  at  last  I  actually  avoid- 
ed the  walks  where  I  was  likely  to  encoun- 
ter the  visitors  of  the  palace,  and  shunned 
the  very  approach  of  a  stranger,  like  a 
guilty  thing.  All  the  brilliant  prospects  of 
my  soldier's  life,  that  a  few  days  back  shone 
out  before  me,  were  now  changed  into  a 
dreamy  despondence.  The  service  I  was 
employed  on — so  different  from  what  I 
deemed  became  a  chivalrous  career — was 
repugnant  to  all  my  feelings  ;  and  when 
the  time  for  visiting  my  pickets  came,  I 
shrank  with  shame  from  a  duty  that  suited 
rather  the  spy  of  the  police  than  the  officer 
of  hussars. 

Every  day  my  depression  increased.  .  My 
isolation,  doubly  painful  from  the  gayety 
and  life  around  me,  seemed  to  mark  me  out 
as  one  unfit  to  know,  lessened  me  in  my 
own  esteem  ;  and  as  I  walked  the  long,  dark 
alleys  of  the  park,  a  weighty  load  upon  my 
heart,  I  envied  the  meanest  soldier  of  my 
troop,  and  would  willingly  have  changed 
his  fortune  with  my  own.  It  was  a  relief 
to  me  even  when  night  came — the  shutters 
of  my  little  room  closed,  my  lamp  lighted 
— to  think  that  there  at  least  I  was  free  from 
the  dark  glances  and  sidelong  looks  of  all  I 
met ;  that  I  was  alone  with  my  own  sorrow, 
— no  contemptuous  eye  to  pierce  my  sad 
heart,  and  see  in  my  gloom  a  self-convicted 
criminal.  Had  I  one,  but  one  friend  to  ad- 
vise with,  to  pour  out  all  my  sufferings  be- 
fore him,  and  say,  "  Tell  me,  how  shall  I 
act  ?  Am  I  to  go  on  enduring  ?  or  where 
shall  I — where  can  I  vindicate  my  fame  ?" 

With  such  sad  thoughts  for  company,  I 
sat  one  evening  alone  ;  my  mind  now  re- 
curring to  the  early  scenes  of  my  childhood, 
and  to  that  harsh'  teaching  which  even  in 
infancy  had  marked  me  for  suffering  ;  now 
straying  onward  to  a  vision  of  the  future  I 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


345 


used  to  paint  so  brightly  to  myself,  when  a 
gentle  tap  at  the  door  aroused  me. 

"Come  in."  said  I,  carelessly,  supposing 
it  a  sergeant  of  my  troop.  The  door  slowly 
opened,  and  a  figure  wrapped  in  a  loose 
horseman's  cloak  entered. 

"Ah  !  lieutenant,  don't  you  know  me  ?" 
said  a  voice,  whose  peculiar  tone  struck  me 
as  well  known.  "The  Abbe  d'Ervan,  at 
your  service." 

"  Indeed  ! "  said  I,  starting  with  sur- 
prise, not  less  at  the  unexpected  visitor  him- 
self than  at  the  manner  of  his  appearance. 
"  Why,  abbe,  you  must  have  passed  the 
sentinel." 

"And  so  I  did,  my  dear  boy,"  replied  he, 
as  he  folded  up  his  cloak  leisurely  on  one 
chair,  and  seated  himself  on  another  op- 
posite me.  "  Nothing  wonderful  in  that, 
I  suppose  ?" 

"But  the  countersign — they  surely  asked 
you  for  it  ?" 

"To  be  sure  they  did,  and  I  gave  it : 
'Vmcennes,'  an  easy  word  enough.  But 
come,  come,  you  are  not  going  to  play  the 
police  with  me.  I  have  taken  you  in 
on  my  way  back  to  St.  Cloud,  where  I  am 
stopping  just  now,  to  pay  you  a  little  visit 
and  talk  over  the  news." 

"Pardon  me  once  more,  my  dear  abbe, 
but  a  young  soldier  may  seem  over  puncti- 
lious.— Have  you  the  privilege  to  pass 
through  the  royal  park  after  nightfall  ?  " 

"I  think  I  have  shown  you  that  already, 
my  most  rigid  inquisitor,  otherwise  I  should 
not  have  known  the  password.  Give  me 
your  report  for  to-morrow.  Ah,  here  it  is. 
What's  the  hour  now  ?  A  quarter  to  eleven. 
This  will  save  you  some  trouble."  So  say- 
ing, he  took  a  pen  and  wrote  in  a  large,  free 
hand,  "  The  Abbe  d'Ervan  from  the 
Chateau  d'Ancre  to  St.  Cloud."  "Monsieur 
Savary  will  ask  you  no  further  questions, 
trust  me.  And  now,  if  you  have  got  over 
all  your  fears  and  disquietudes,  may  I  take 
the  liberty  to  remind  you  that  the  chateau 
is  ten  leagues  off — that  I  dined  at  three,  and 
have  eaten  nothing  since.  Abbes,  you  are 
aware,  are  privileged  gastronomists  ;  and 
the  family  of  D'Ervan  have  a  most  unhappy 
addiction  to  good  things.  A  poulet,  how- 
eveiyand  a  flask  of  Chablis  will  do  for 
the  present ;  for  I  long  to  talk  with 
you. " 

While  I  made  my  humble  preparations  to 
entertain  him,  he  rambled  on  in  his  usual 
free  and  pleasant  manner — that  mixture  of 
smartness  and  carelessness  which  seemed 
equally  diffused  through  all  he  said,  impart- 
ing a  sufficiency  to  awake,  without  con- 
taining anything  to  engage  too  deeply  the 
listener's  attention. 


"Come,    come,    lieutenant,    make    no 

apology  for  t  he  fare  :  I  he  \  rcellent ; 

and  as  for  the  Burgundy,  it  iseasy  enough 

j  to  sec   your  Chambertin  comes    from  tne 

•'  .,11- id's  cellar.     And    so  me  that 

you  find   this  place  dull,  which  I  own  I'm 
surprised  ;:t.    These  In  tie  soirees  are  usually 

amusing;  but  perhaps  a!  your  age  the  daz 
/ding  gayety  of  the  ball-room  is  more  at- 
tractive." 

"In  truth,  abbe,  the  distinction  would 
be  a  matter  of  some  difficulty  to  me,  I  know- 
so  little  of  either.  And  indeed,  Madame 
la  Consulesse  is  not  over  likeh  to  enlighten 
my  ignorance  :  I  have  never  been  asked  to 
the  palace." 

"You  are  jesting,  surety." 

"  Perfectly  in  earnest,  I  assure  you. 
This  is  my  third  week  of  being  quartered 
here  ;  and  not  only  have  I  not  been  invited, 
but,  stranger  still,  Madame  Bonaparte 
passed,  and  never  noticed  me  ;  and 
another,  one  of  her  suite,  did  the  same  ;  so 
you  see  there  can  be  no  accident  in  the 
matter." 

"How  strange,"  said  the  Abbe,  leaning 
his  head  on  his  hand  ;  and  then,  as  if 
speaking  to  himself,  muttered,  "But  so  it 
is,  there  is  no  such  tyrant  as  your  parvenu. 
The  caprice  of  sudden  elevation  knows  no 
guidance.  And  you  can't  even  guess  at 
the  cause  of  all  this  ?" 

"Not  with  all  my  ingenuity  could  I 
invent  anything  like  a  reason." 

"  Well,  well,  we  may  find  it  out  yet. 
These  are  strange  times  altogether,  lieuten- 
ant. Men's  minds  are  more  unsettled 
than  ever  they  were.  The  Jacobin  begins 
to  feel  he  has  been  laboring  for  nothing  : 
that  all  he  deems  the  rubbish  of  a  mon- 
archy has  been  removed,  only  to  build  up 
a  greater  oppression.  The  soldier  sees  his 
conquests  have  only  made  the  fortune  of 
one  man  in  the  army,  and  that  one  not 
over-mindful  of  his  old  companions. 
Many  begin  to  think,  and  they  may  have 
some  cause  for  the  notion,  that  the  old 
family  of  France  knew  the  interests  of  the 
nation  best  after  all  ;  and  certain  it  is, 
they  were  never  ungrateful  to  those  who 
served  them.  Your  countrymen  had 
always  their  share  of  favor  shown  them. 
You  do  surprise  me  when  you  say  you've 
never  been  invited." 

"  So  it  is  though  ;  and  worse  still,  there 
is  evidently  some  secret  reason.  Men  look 
at  me  as  if  I  had  done  something  to  stain 
my  character  and  name." 

- "  No,  no,  you  mistake  all  that.  This 
new  and  patchwork  Court  does  but  try  to 
imitate  the  tone  of  its  leader.  When  did 
vou  see  De  Beauvais  ?  " 


346 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


"Not  for  some  months  past.  Is  he  in 
Paris  ?  " 

"No.  The  poor  fellow  has  been  ill. 
He's  in  Normandy  just  now,  but  I  expect: 
him  back  soon.  There  is  a  youth  who 
might  be  anything  he  pleased  :  his  family 
one  of  the  oldest  in  the  south  ;  his  means 
abundant;  his  own  ability  first  rate;  but 
his  principles  are  of  that  inflexible  mate- 
rial that  won't  bend  for  mere  convenience' 
sake.  He  does  not  like — he  does  not 
approve  of  the  present  government  of 
France." 

"  What  would  he  have  then  ?  Does  not 
Bonaparte  satisfy  the  ambition  of  a 
Frenchman  ?  Does  he  wish  a  greater  name 
than  that  at  the  head  of  his  nation  ?  " 

"That's  a  brilliant  lamp  before  us  ;  but 
see  there,"  cried  the  Abbe,  as  he  flung 
open  the  shutter,  and  pointed  to  the  bright 
moon  that  shone  pale  and  beautiful  in  the 
clear  sky — "  see  there.  Is  there  not  some- 
thing grander  far  in  the  glorious  radiance 
of  the  orb  that  has  thrown  its  luster  on 
the  world  for  ages  ?  Is  it  not  a  glorious 
thought  to  revel  in  the  times  long  past, 
and  think  of  those,  our  fathers,  who  lived 
beneath  the  same  bright  beams,  and  drank 
in  the  same  golden  waters  ?  Men  are  too 
prone  to  measure  themselves  with  one  of 
yesterday.  They  find  it  hard  to  wonder  at 
the  statue  of  him  whom  they  have  them- 
selves placed  on  the  pedestal.  Feudalism, 
too,  seems  a  very  part  of  our  nature." 

"These  are  thoughts  I've  never  known, 
nor  would  I  now  wish  to  learn  them,"  said 
I ;  "  and  as  for  me,  a  hero  needs  no  ances- 
try to  make  him  glorious  in  my  eyes." 

i(  All  true,"  said  the  Abbe,  sipping  his 
glass,  and  smiling  kindly  on  me  ;  "a 
young  heart  should  feel  as  yours  does  ; 
and  time  was  when  such  feelings  had  made 
the  fortune  of  their  owner  ;  but  even  now 
the  world  is  changed  about  us.  The  gen- 
darmes have  the  mission  that  once  belonged 
to  the  steel-clad  cuirassiers,  and,  in  return, 
the  hussar  is  little  better  than  a  'mou- 
chard. '  " 

The  blood  mounted  to  my  face  and 
temples,  and  throbbed  in  every  vein  and 
artery  of  my  forehead,  as  I  heard  this 
contemptuous  epithet  applied  to  the  corps 
I  belonged  to — a  sarcasm  that  told  not  less 
poignantly  on  me,  that  I  felt  how  applica- 
ble it  was  to  my  present  position. 

He  saw  how  deeply  mortified  the  word 
had  made  me  ;  and,  putting  his  hand  in 
mine,  with  a  voice  of  winning  softness  he 
added,  "  One  who  would  be  a  friend 
must  risk  a  little  now  and  then ;  as 
he  who  passes  over  a  plank  before  his 
neighbor  will  sometimes  spring  to  try  its 


soundness,  even  at  the  hazard  of  a  fall. 
Don't  mistake  me,  lieutenant,  you  have  a 
higher  mission  than  this.  France  is  on  the 
eve  of  a  mighty  change.  Let  us  hop;'  it 
may  be  a  happy  one.  And  now  it's  getting 
late — far  later,  .indeed,  than  is  my  wont  to 
be  abroad — and  so  I'll  wish  you  good- 
night. I'll  find  a  bed  in  the  village. 
And  since  I  have  made  you  out  here,  we 
must  meet  often." 

There  was  something — I  could  not 
define  what  exactly — that  alarmed  me  in 
the  conversation  of  the  abbe  ;  and  lonely 
and  solitary  as  I  was,  it  was  with  a  sense 
of  relief  I  saw  him  take  his  departure. 

The  pupil  of  a  school  where  the  Con- 
sul's name  was  never  mentioned  without 
enthusiasm  and  admiration,  I  found  it 
strange  that  any  one  should  venture  to 
form  any  other  estimate  of  linn  than  I 
was  used  to  hear  ;  and  yet  in  all  he  said  I 
could  but  faintly  trace  out  anything  to 
take  amiss.  That  men  of  his  cloth  should 
feel  warmly  toward  the  exiled  family  was 
natural  enough.  They  could  have  but  few 
sympathies  with  the  soldier's  calling,  and, 
of  course,  felt  themselves  in  a  very  differ- 
ent position  now  from  what  they  once  had 
occupied.  The  restoration  of  Catholicism 
was,  I  well  knew,  rather  a  political  and 
social  than  a  religious  movement  ;  and 
Bonaparte  never  had  any  the  slightest  inten- 
tion of  replacing  the  Church  in  its  former 
position  of  ascendancy,  but  rather  of  using 
it  as  a  state  engine,  and  giving  a  stability  to 
the  new  order  of  things,  which  could  only 
be  done  on  the  foundation  of  prejudices 
and  convictions  old  as  the  nation  itself. 

In  this  way  the  rising  generation  looked 
on  the  priests  ;  and  in  this  way  had  I  been 
taught  to  regard  the  whole  class  of  reli- 
gionists. It  was,  then,  nothing  wonderful 
if  ambitious  men  among  them,  of  whom 
D'Ervan  might  be  one,  felt  somewhat 
indignant  at  the  post  assigned  them,  and 
did  not  espouse  with  warmth  the  cause  of 
one  who  merely  condescended  to  make 
them  the  tool  of  his  intentions.  "  Yes, 
yes,"  said  I  to  myself,  "  I  have  divined  my 
friend  the  abbe  ;  and  though  not  a  very 
dangerous  character  after  all,  it's  just  as 
well  I  should  be  on  my  guard.  His  being 
in  possession  of  the  password,  and  his 
venturing  to  write  his  name  in  the  police 
report,  are  evidences  that  he  enjoys  the 
favor  of  the  Prefet  de  Police.  Well,  well, 
I'm  sure  I  am  heartily  tired  of  such  reflec- 
tions. Would  that '  the  campaign  were 
once  begun.  The  roll  of  a  platoon  and 
the  deep  thunder  of  an  artillery  fire  would 
soon  drown  the  small  whisperings  of  such 
miserable  plottings  from  one's  head. " 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


dill 


About  a  week  passed  over  after  this  visit, 
in  which,  at  first,  I  was  rather  better  pleased 
that  the  abbe  did  not  come  again  ;  but  as 
my  solitude  began  to  press  more  he;i\  ily  on 
me,  I  felt  a  kind  of  regret  at  not  seeing 
him.  His  lively  tone  in  conversation, 
though  spiced  with  that  "moqueur"  spirit 
which  Frenchmen  nearly  all  assume,  amus- 
ed, me  greatly;  and  little  versed  as  I  was 
in  the  world 'or  in  its  ways,  I  saw  that  he 
knew  it  thoroughly.  Such  were  my 
thoughts  as  I  returned  home  one  evening 
along  the  broad  alley  of  the  park,  when  I 
heard  a  foot  coming  rapidly  up  behind  me. 

'*  I  say,  lieutenant,"  cried  the  voice  of 
the  very  man  I  was  thinking  of,  "your 
people  are  terribly  on  the  alert  to-night ; 
they  refused  to  let  me  pass,  until  I  told 
them  I  was  coming  to  you  ;  and  here  are 
two  worthy  fellows  who  won't  take  my 
word  for  it  without  your  corroboration.'' 

I  then  perceived  that  two  dismounted 
dragoons  followed  him  at  the  distance  of  a 
few  paces. 

"All  right,  men,"  said  I,  passing  my 
arm  beneath  the  abbe's,  and  turning  again 
toward  my  quarters.  "  Wouldn't  they 
take  the  password,  then  ?"  continued  I,  as 
we  walked  on." 

"Ma  foi,  I  don't  know,  for  I  haven't 
got  it." 

"  How — not  got  it  ?  " 

"Don't  look'so  terribly  frightened,  my 
dear  boy  !  You'll  not  be  put  under  arrest 
or  any  such  mishap  on  my  account ;  but 
the  truth  is,  I've  been  away  some  days  from 
home,  and  have  not  had  time  to  write  to 
the  minister  for  the  order  ;  and  as  I  want- 
ed to  go  over  to  St.  Cloud  this  evening, 
and  as  this  route  saves  me  at  least  a  league's 
walking,  of  course  I  availed  myself  of  the 
privilege  of  our  friendship  both  to  rest  my 
legs  and  have  a  little  chat  with  you.  Well, 
and  how  do  you  get  on  here  now  ?  I  hope 
the  chateau  is  more  hospitable  to  you — eh  ? 
— not  so  ? — that  is  most  strange.  But  I 
have  brought  you  a  few  books  which  may 
serve  to  while  away  the  hours  ;  and  as  a 
recompense,  I'll  ask  you  for  a  supper." 

By  this  time  wre  were  at  the  door  of  my 
quarters,  where,  having  ordered  up  the  best 
repast  my  cuisine  afforded,  we  sat  down  to 
await  its  appearance.  Unlike  the  former 
evening,  the  abbe  now  seemed  low  and  de- 
pressed— spoke  little,  and  then  moodily, 
over  the  unsettled  state  of  men's  minds, 
and  the  rumors  that  pervaded  Paris  of 
some  momentous  change — men  knew  not 
what — and  thus  by  a  stray  phrase,  a  chance 
word,  or  an  unfinished  sentence,  gave  me 
to  think  that  the  hour  was  approaching  for 
some  great  political  convulsion. 


"But,  lieiifa  nant,  you  never  told  me  by 
whal  accident  you  came  first  amongsi  us. 
Let  me  hear  your  story.     Thi  .  with 

which  I  ask  is  not  the  fruit  of  an  imperti- 
nent curiosity.  I  wish  sincerely  to  know 
, Unit  one  in  whose  fortunes  I  have 
taken  a  deep  interest.  I >e  I>  au  raie  told 
me  the  little  anecdote  which  made  you  first 
acquainted;  and  though  the  evenl  prom- 
ised but  little  of  future  friendship,  the  cir- 
cumstances have  turned  out  differ*  utly.  You 
have  not  one  who  speaks  and  thinks  of  you 
more  highly  than  he  does.  I  left  him  this 
morning  not  many  miles  from  this.  And 
now  that  1  think  of  it,  he  gave  me  a  letter 
for  you — here  it  is."  So  saying,  he  threw 
it  carelessly  on  the  chimney-piece,  and  con- 
tinued :  "I  must  tell  you  a  secret  of  poor 
De  Beauvais,  for  I  know  you  feel  interest- 
ed in  him.  You  must  know,  then,  that 
our  friend  is  desperately  in  love  with  a  very 
beautiful  cousin  of  his  own,  one  of  the  suite 
of  Madame  Bonaparte.  She's  a  well-known 
Court  beauty  ;  and  if  you  had  seen  more 
of  the  Tuileries,  you'd  have  heard  of  La 
Eose  de  Provence." 

"I  have  seen  her,  I  think,"  muttered  I, 
as  my  cheek  grew  crimson,  and  my  lips 
trembled. 

"  Well,"  resumed  the  Abbe,  and  without 
noticing  my  embarrassment,  "this love  af- 
fair, which  I  believe  began  long  ago,  and 
might  have  ended  in  marriage — for  there 
is  no  disparity  of  rank,  no  want  of  wealth, 
nor  any  other  difficulty  to  prevent  it — has 
been  interrupted  by  General  Bonaparte,  be- 
cause, and  for  no  other  reason,  mark  ye, 
than  that  De  Beauvais's  family  were  Bour- 
bonists.  His  father  was  a  captain  of  the 
Garde  du  'Corps,  and  his  grandfather  a 
grand  falconer,  or  something  or  other,  with 
Louis  XV.  Now,  the  young  man  pi  is  was 
well  enough  inclined  to  go  with  the  cur- 
rent of  events  in  France.  The  order  of 
things  once  changed,  he  deemed  it  best  to 
follow  the  crowd,  and  frequented  the  Tui- 
leries  like  many  others  of  his  own  politics 
— I  believe  you  met  him  there — till  one 
morning  lately  he  resolved  to  try  his  for- 
tune where  the  game  was  his  ail.  And  he 
waited  on  Madame  Bonaparte  to  ask  her 
consent  to  his  marriage  with  his  cousin — 
for  I  must  tell  you  that  she  is  an  orphan, 
and  in  all  such  cases  the  parental  right  is 
exercised  by  the  head  of  the  government. 
Madame  referred  him  coldly  to  the  Gen- 
eral, who  received  him  more  coldly  still, 
and  instead  of  replying  to  his  suit,  as  he 
expected,  broke  out  into  invectives  against 
De  Beauvais's  friends — called  them  chouan. 9 
and  assassins — said  they  never  ceased  to 
plot  against  his  life  with  his  most  invete- 


348 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


rate  enemies,  the  English— that  the  exiled 
family  maintained  a  corpsof  spies  in  Paris, 
of  whom  he  half  suspected  him  to  be  one  ; 
and,  in  a  word,  contrived  to  heap  more  in- 
sult on  him  in  one  quarter  of  an  hour  than, 
as  he  himself  said,  his  whole  family  had 
endured  from  the  days  of  St.  Louis  to  the 
present.  De  Beauvais  from  that  hour  ab- 
sented himself  from  the  Tuileries,  and  in- 
deed almost  entirely  from  Paris — now  liv- 
ing with  his  friends  in  Normandy,  now 
spending  a  few  weeks  in  the  south  ;  but  at 
last  he  has  determined  on  his  course,  and 
means  to  leave  France  forever.  1  believe 
the  object  of  his  coming  here  at  this  mo- 
ment is  to  see  his  cousin  for  the  last  time. 
Perhaps  his  note  to  you  has  some  reference 
to  it." 

I  took  the  letter  with  a  trembling  hand 
— a  fear  of  something  undefined  was  over 
me — and,  tearing  it  open,  read  as  follows  : 

"Dear  Friend, — The  Abbe  d'Ervan 
will  deliver  this  into  your  hands,  and,  if 
you  wish  it,  explain  the  reason  of  the  re- 
quest it  contains,  which  is  simply  that  you 
will  afford  me  the  shelter  of  your  quarters 
for  one  day  in  the  park  at  Versailles.  I 
know  the  difficulty  of  your  position  ;  and 
if  any  other  means  under  heaven  presented 
itself  I  should  not  ask  the  favor,  which, 
although  I  pledge  my  honor  not  to  abuse, 
I  shall  value  as  the  dearest  a  whole  life's 
gratitude  can  repay.  My  heart  tells  me 
that  you  will  not  refuse  the  last  wish  of 
one  you  will  never  see  after  this  meeting. 
I  shall  wait  at  the  gate  below  the  Trianon 
at  eleven  o'clock  on  Friday  night,  when 
you  can  pass  me  through  the  sentries. 
"Yours,  ever  and  devoted, 

"Henri  de  Beauvais." 

"  The  thing  is  impossible,"  said  I,  laying 
down  the  letter  on  the  table,  and  staring 
over  at  D'Ervan. 

"No  more  so,  dear  friend,  than  what 
you  have  done  for  me  this  evening,  and 
which,  I  need  not  tell  you,  involves  no  risk 
whatever.  Here  am  I  now,  without  pass 
or  countersign,  your  guest — the  partaker 
of  as  good  a  supper  and  as  excellent  a  glass 
of  wine  as  man  need  care  for.  In  an  hour 
hence — say  two  at  most — I  shall  be  on  my 
way  over  to  St.  Cloud.  Who  is,  then,  I 
ask  you,  to.  be  the  wiser  ?  You'll  not  put 
me  down  in  the  night  report — don't  start 
— I  repeat  it — you  can't  do  it ;  for  I  had 
no  countersign  to  pass  through  :  and  as 
the  Consul  reads  these  sheets  every  morn- 
ing, you  are  not  going  to  lose  your  com- 
mission for  the  sake  of  an  absurd  punctilio 
that  nobody  on  earth  will  thank  you  for. 


Come,  come,  my  worthy  lieutenant,  these 
same  excellent  scruples  of  yours  savor  far 
more  of  the  scholar  at  the  rigid  old  Poly- 
teehnique  than  the  young  officer  of  hussars. 
Help  me  to  that  ortolan  there,  and  pass 
the  bottle.  There — a  bumper  of  such  a 
vintage  is  a  good  reward  for  so  much  talk- 
ing." 

While  the  abbe  continued  to  exert  him- 
self by  many  a  flippant  remark,  and  many 
a  smart  anecdote,  to  dissipate  the  gloom 
that  now  fell  over  my  spirits,  I  grew  only 
more  and  more  silent.  The  one  false  step 
I  had  taken  already  presented  itself  before 
me  as  the  precedent  for  further  wrong,  and 
I  knew  not  what  course  to  take,  nor  how  to 
escape  from  my  dilemma. 

"I  say,  lieutenant,"  said  D'Ervan,  after 
a  pause  of  some  minutes,  during  which  lie 
had  never  ceased  to  regard  me  with  a  fixed, 
steady  stare,  "you  are  about  as  unlike  the 
usual  character  of  your  countrymen  as  one 
can  well  conceive." 

"  How  so  ?  "  said  I,  half  smiling  at  the 
remark. 

"All  the  Irishmen  I  have  ever  seem"  re- 
plied he — "and  I  have  known  some  scores 
of  them — were  bold,  dashing,  intrepid  fel- 
lows, that  cared  nothing  for  an  enterprise 
if  danger  had  no  share  in  it — who  loved  a 
difficulty  as  other  men  love  safety — who 
had  an  instinct  for  where  their  own  reck- 
less courage  would  give  them  an  advantage 
over  all  others,  and  took  life  easily,  under 
the  conviction  that  every  day  could'  present 
the  circumstance  where  a  ready  wit  and  a 
stout  heart  could  make  the  way  to  fortune. 
Such  were  the  Irish  I  knew  "in  the  Brigade  ; 
and  though  not  a  man  of  the  number  had 
ever  seen  what  they  called  the  Green  Island, 
they  were  as  unlike  English,  or  French,  or 
Germans,  or  any  other  people,  as — as  the 
old  court  of  Louis  XIV.  was  unlike  the 
guard-room  style  of  reception  that  goes  on 
now-a-days  yonder." 

"  What  you  say  may  be  just,"  said  I 
coolly  ;  "  and  if  I  seem  to  have  few  features 
of  that  headlong  spirit  which  is  the  gift  of 
my  nation,  the  circumstances  of  my  boy- 
hood could  well  explain,  perhaps  excuse 
them.  From  my  earliest  years  I  have  had 
to  struggle  against  ills  that  many  men,  in 
a  long  lifetime,  do  not  meet.  with.  If 
suspicion  and  distrust  have  crept  or  stolen 
into  my  heaat,  it  is  from  watching  the  con- 
duct of  those  I  deemed  high-spirited  and 
honorable,  and  seeing  them  weak,  and 
vacillating,  and  faithless.  And  lastly,  if 
every  early  hope  that  stirred  my  heart  does 
but  wane  and  pale  within  me,  as  stars  go 
out  when  day  is  near,  you  cannot  won- 
der that  I,  who  stand  alone  here,  without 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


349 


Lome  or  friend,  should  feel  a  throb  of  fear 
at  aught  which  may  tarnish  a  name  that 
has  yet  no  memory  of  past  services  to  rely 
upon.  And  if  you  knew  how  sorely  such 
emotions  war  against  the  spirit  that  lives 
here,  believe  me  you  had  never  made  the 
reproach — my  punishment  is  enough  al- 
ready. " 

"Forgive  me,  my  dear  boy,  if  I  said 
anything  could  wound  you  for  a  moment,'" 
safd  the  Abbe.  "  This  costume  of  mine, 
they  say,  gives  a  woman's  privilege,  and 
truly  I  believe  it  does  something  of  the 
sex's  impertinence  also.  I  ought  to  have 
known  you  better,  and  I  do  know  you 
better  by  this  time.  And  now  let  me  press 
a  request  I  made  some  half  an  hour  ago — 
tell  me  this  same  story  of  yours.  I  long  to 
learn  something  of  the  little  boy  where  I 
feel  such  affection  for  the  man." 

The  look  of  kindness  and  the  tone  of 
soothing  interest  that  accompanied  these 
words  I  could  not  resist ;  so,  drawing  my 
chair  close  toward  him,  I  began  the  narra- 
tive of  my  life.  He  listened  with  the  most 
eager  attention  to  my  account  of  the  polit- 
ical condition  of  Ireland,  questioned  me 
closely  as  to  my  own  connection  with  the 
intrigues  of  the  period  ;  and  when  I  men- 
tioned the  name  of  Charles  de  Meudon,  a 
livid  paleness  overspread  his  features  as  he 
asked,  in  a  low,  hollow  tone,  if  I  were  with 
him  when  he  died  ? 

"Yes,"'  replied  I,  "  by  his  bedside." 

"Did  he  ever  speak  to  you  of  me  ?  Did 
he  ever  tell  you  much  of  his  early  life  when 
in  Provence  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes;  he  spoke  often  of  those 
happy  days  in  the  old  chateau,  where  his 
sister,  on  whom  he  doted  to  distraction, 
was  his  companion.  Hers  was  a  sad  story, 
too.  Strange,  is  it  not,  I  have  never  heard 
of  her  since  I  came  to  France  ?" 

A  long  pause  followed  these  words,  and 
the  abbe  leaned  his  head  upon  his  hand, 
and  seemed  to  be  lost  in  thought. 

"  She  was  in  love  with  her  cousin,"  I  con- 
tinued, "  and  Charles,  unhappily,  refused 
his  consent.  Unhappily,  I  say,  for  he 
wept  over  his  conduct  on  his  death-bed.  ' 

"Did  he  ?"  cried  the  Abbe,  with  a  start, 
while  his  eye  flashed  fire,  and  his  nostrils 
swelled  and  dilated  like  a  chafed  horse. 
"Did  he  do  this?" 

"Yes,  bitterly  he  repented  it;  and 
although  he  never  confessed  it,  I  could  see 
that  he  had  been  deceived  by  others,  and 
turned  from  his  own  high-souled  purpose 
respecting  his  sister.  I  wonder  what  be- 
came of  Claude — he  entered  the  Church." 

"  Ay,  and  lies  there  now,"  replied  the 
Abbe,  sternly. 


"Poor  fellow  !  is  he  dead,  too  ?  and  so 
young. " 

' '  Yes.  He  con  tri  ved  to  entangle  himself 
in  some  Jacobite  plot." 

"  Why,  he  was  a  royal 

"So  he  was.  Itmi'jii!  h  ive  been  another 
conspiracy,  then — some  Chouan  intrigne. 
Whatever  it  was,  the  government  heard  of 
it;  he  was  arrested  at  the  door  of  his  own 
presbytere ;  the  grenadiers  were  drawn  up 
in  his  own  garden,  and  he  was  tried,  con- 
demned, and  shot  in  less  than  an  hour. 
The  officer  of  the  company  ate  the  dinner 
that  was  preparing  for  him." 

"  What  a  destiny  !  And  Marie  de  Meu- 
don ?  " 

"  Hush  ?  the  name  is  proscribed.  The 
De  Meudons  professed  strong  royalist 
opinions,  and  Bonaparte  would  not  permit 
her  bearing  her  family  name.  She  is  known 
by  that  of  her  mother's  family,  except  by 
those  poor  minions  of  the  Court,  who 
endeavor,  with  their  fade  affectation,  to 
revive  the  graceful  pleasantries  of  Marie 
Antoinette's  time,  and  they  call  her  La  Eose 
de  Provence." 

"  La  Rose  de  Provence,"  cried  I,  spring- 
ing up  from  my  chair,  "the  sister  of 
Charles  ! "  while  a  thrill  of  ecstasy  ran 
through  my  frame,  followed  the  moment 
after  by  a  cold,  faint  feeling ;  and  I  sank 
almost  breathless  in  the  chair. 

"  Ha  !  "  cried  the  Abbe,  leaning  over  me, 
and  holding  the  lamp  close  to  my  face, 
"what — "  And  then,  as  he  resumed  his 
place,  he  slowly  muttered  between  his  teeth, 
"I  did  not  dream  of  this." 

Not  a  word  was  now  spoken  by  either. 
The  abbe  sat  mute  and  motionless,  his  eyes 
bent  upon  the  floor,  and  his  hands  clasped 
before  him.  As  for  me.  every  emotion  of 
hope  and  fear,  joy  and  sorrow,  succeeded 
each  other  in  my  mind  ;  and  it  was  only  as 
I  thought  of  De  Beauvais  once  more  that 
a  gloomy  despair  spread  itself  before  me, 
and  I  remembered  that  he  loved  her,  and 
how  the  abbe  hinted  his  passion  was  re- 
turned. 

"The  day  is  breaking,"  said  D'Ervan, 
as  he  opened  the  shutter  and  looked  out  ; 
"  I  must  away.  Well,  I  hope  I  may  tell 
my  poor  friend  De  Beauvais  that  you'll  not 
refuse  his  request.  Charles  de  Meudon's 
sister  may  have  a  claim  on  your  kindness 
too." 

"  If  I  thought  that  she—" 

"You  mean,  that  she  loved  him.  You 
must  take  his  word  for  that.  She  is  not 
likely  to  make  a  confidant  of  you  ;  besides, 
he  tells  you  it's  a  last  meeting.  You  can 
scarcely  say  nay.  Poor  girl,  he  is  the  only 
one  remaining  to  her  of  all  her  house.     On 


350 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


his  departure,  you  are  not  more  a  stranger 
here  than  is  she  in  bhe  land  of  herfathers." 

"  I'll  do  it,  I'll  do  it,"  cried  I,  passion- 
ately. "  Let  him  meet  me  where  he  men- 
tioned.    I'll  be  there." 

"  That's  as  it  should  be,"  said  the  Abbe, 
grasping  my  hand,  and  pressing  it  fervently; 
"  but  come,  don't  forget  you  must  pass  me 
through  this  same  cordon  of  yours." 

With  a  timid  and  shrinking  heart  I 
walked  beside  the  abbe  across  the  open  ter- 
race, toward  the  large  gate,  which  with  its 
bronzed  and  gilded  tracery  was  already 
shining  in  the  rich  sunlight. 

"A  fine-looking  fellow,  that  dragoon 
yonder  ;  he's  decorated,  I  see." 

"Yes  ;  an  old  hussar  of  the  Garde." 

"What's  he  called?" 

"  Pierre  Dulong  ;  a  name  well  known  in 
his  troop." 

"  Halte  la  1 "  cried  the  soldier,  as  we  ap- 
proached. 

"  Your  officer,"  said  I. 

"  The  word  ?  " 

"  Arcole." 

"  Pass,  '  Arcole,'  and  good  morrow." 

"  Adieu,  lieutenant— adieu,  Pierre,"  said 
the  Abbe,  as  he  waved  his  hand  and  passed 
out. 

I  stood  for  a  minute  or  two  uncertain  of 
purpose  ;  why,  I  know  not.  The  tone  of 
the  last  few  words  seemed  uttered  in  some- 
thing like  a  sneer.  "  What  folly,  though  !  " 
said  I  to  myself.  "  D'Ervan  is  a  strange 
fellow,  and  it  is  his  way." 

■"  We  shall  meet  soon,  abbe,"  I  cried  out, 
as  he  was  turning  the  corner  of  the  park 
Wall. 

"  Yes,  yes,  rely  on  it,  we  shall  meet — and 
soon." 

He  kept  his  word. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 


LA  ROSE  DE  PROVENCE. 


The  one  thought  that  dwelt  in  my  mind 
the  entire  day  was,  that  Marie  de  Rochfort 
was  Charles  de  Meudon's  sister.  The  fact 
once  known,  seemed  to  explain  that  secret 
power  she  exercised  over  my  hopes  and 
longings.  The  spell  her  presence  threw 
around  ever  as  she  passed  me  in  the  park  ; 
that  strange  influence  with  which  the  few 
words  I  had  heard  her  speak  still  remained 
fast-rooted  in  my  memory  ;  all  these  did  I 
attribute  to  the  hold  her  name  had  taken 
of  my  heart,  as  I  sat  night  after  night  lis- 
tening to  her  brother's  stories.  And  then, 
why  had  I  not  guessed  it  earlier  ? — why  had 


I  not  perceived  the  striking  resemblance 
which  it  now  seemed  impossible  to  over- 
look ?  The  dark  eye,  beaming  beneath  a 
brow  squarely  chiseled  like  an  antique 
cameo  ;  the  straight  nose  and  short,  up- 
turned lip,  where  a  half-saucy  look  seemed 
struggling  with  a  sweet  smile  ;  and  then 
the  voice — was  it  not 'his  own  rich,  south- 
ern accent,  tempered  by  her  softer  nature  ? 
Yes  ;  I  should  have  known  her.  In  reflec- 
tions like  these  I  made  my  round  of  duty, 
my  whole  heart  wrapped  up  in  this  discov- 
ery. I  never  thought  of  De  Bcauvais,  or 
his  letter.  It  seemed  to  me  as  though  I 
had  known  her  long  and  intimately  ;  she 
was  not  the  Rose  de  Provence  of  the  Court 
— the  admired  of  the  Tuileries — the  wor- 
shiped belle  of  Versailles—  but  Marie  de 
Meudon,  the  sister  of  one  who  loved  me  as 
a  brother. 

There  was  a  dark  alley  near  the  Trianon, 
that  led  along  the  side  of  a  little  lake, 
where  rocks  and  creeping  plants,  rudely 
grouped  together,  gave  a  half-wild  aspect 
to  the  scene.  The  tall  beech  and  the  droop- 
ing ash-trees  that  grew  along  the  bank 
threw  their  shadows  far  across  the  still 
water  ;  and  here  I  had  remarked  that  Made- 
moiselle de  Meudon  came  frequently  alone. 
It  was  a  place,  from  its  look  of  shade  and 
gloom,  little  likely  to  attract  the  gay  visi- 
tors of  the  Court,  who  better  loved  the 
smoothly-shaven  grass  of  the  palace  walks, 
or  the  broad  terraces  where  bright  foun- 
tains were  plashing.  Since  I  discovered 
that  she  avoided  me  when  we  met,  I  had 
never  taken  this  path  on  my  rounds,  al- 
though leading  directly  to  one  of  my  out- 
posts, but  preferred  rather  a  different  and 
longer  route.  Now,  however,  I  sought  it 
eagerly,  and,  as  I  hurried  on,  I  dreaded 
lest  my  unwonted  haste  might  excite  sus- 
picion. I  resolved  to  see  and  speak  to  her. 
It  was  her  brother's  wish  that  I  should 
know  her  ;  and  till  now  I  felt  as  though  my 
great  object  in  corning  to  France  was  un- 
obtained,  if  I  knew  not  her  whose  name 
was  hallowed  in  my  memory.  Poor 
Charles  used  to  tell  me  'she  would  be  a 
sister  to  me.  How  my  heart  trembled  at 
the  thought  !  As  I  drew  near  I  stopped  to 
think  how  she  might  receive  me  ;  with 
what  feelings  hear  me  speak  of  one  who 
was  the  cause  of  all  her  unhappiness.  But 
then  they  said  she  loved  De  Beauvais. 
What !  was  poor  Claude  forgotten  ?  Was 
all  the  love-dream  of  her  first  affection 
passed?  My  thoughts  rah  wild  as  differ- 
ent impulses  struggled  through  them,  and 
I  could  resolve  on  nothing.  Before  me, 
scarcely  a  dozen  paces,  and  alone,  she  stood, 
looking  on  the  calm  lake,  where  the  light 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OCRS.". 


351 


in  golden  and  green  patches  played,  as  ii 
struggled  through  the  dense  foliage.  The 
clattering  of  my  sabre  startled  her,  and, 
without  looking  back,  she  dropped  her  vail, 
and  moved  slowly  on. 

"  Mademoiselle  de  Meudon,"  said  I,  tak- 
ing of!  my  shako,  and  bowing  deeply  be- 
fore her. 

"What — how!  Why  this  name,  sir? 
Don't  you  know  it's  forbidden  here  ?" 

"  I  know  it,  madame  ;  but  it  is  by  that 
name  alone  I  dare  to  speak  to  you  ;  it  was 
by  that  1  learned  to  know  you — from  one 
who  loved  you,  and  who  did  not  reject  my 
humble  heart — one  who,  amid  all  the  trials 
of  hard  fate,  felt  the  hardest  to  be — the 
wrong  he  did  his  sister." 

"Did  you  speak  of  my  brother  Charles?  " 
said  she,  in  a  voice  low  and  tremulous. 

"1  did,  madame.  The  last  message  his 
lips  ever  uttered  was  given  to  me,  and  for 
you.  Not  until  last  night  did  I  know  that 
I  was  every  hour  of  the  day  so  near  to 
one  whose  name  was  treasured  in  my 
heart." 

"  Oh  !  tell  me  of  him — tell  me  of  my 
dear  Charles  !  "  cried  she,  as  the  tears  ran 
fast  down  her  pale  cheeks.  "  Where  was 
his  death  ?  Was  it  among  strangers  that 
he  breathed  his  last  ?  Was  there  one  there 
who  loved  him  ?" 

"There  was — there  was  !  "  cried  I,  pas- 
sionately, unable  to  say  more. 

"And  where  was  that  youth  that  loved 
him  so  tenderly  ?  I  heard  of  him  as  one 
who  never  left  his  side — tending  him  in 
sickness,  and  watching  beside  him  in  sor- 
row.    Was  he  not  there  ?  " 

"I  was — I  was.  My  hand  held  his.  In 
my  ear  his  last  sigh  was  breathed." 

"Oh  !  was  it  you  indeed  who  were  my 
brother's  friend  ? "  said  she,  seizing  my 
hand  and  pressing  it  to  her  lips.  The  hot 
tears  dropped  heavily  on  my  wrist,  and  in 
my  ecstasy  I  knew  not  where  1  was.  "  Oh  ! " 
cried  she,  passionately,  "  I  did  not  think 
that  in  my  loneliness  such  a  happiness  as 
this  remained  for  me.  I  never  dreamed  to 
see  and  speak  to  one  who  knew  and  loved 
my  own  dear  Charles — who  could  tell  me 
of  his  solitary  hours  of  exile  ;  what  hopes 
and  fears  stirred  that  proud  heart  of  his  ; 
who  could  'bring  back  to  me  in  all  their 
force  again  the  bright  hours  of  our  happy 
youth,  when  we  were  all  to  each  other'; 
when  our  childhood  knew  no  greater  bliss 
than  that  we  loved.  Alas  !  alas  !  how 
short-lived  was  it  all  !  He  lies  buried  be- 
yond the  sea  in  the  soil  of  the  stranger,  and 
I  live  on  to  mourn  over  the  past,  and  shud- 
der at  the  .future.  But  come,  let  us  sit 
down  upon  this  bank.     You  must  not  leave 


me  till  I  hear  all   aboul    him.     Where  did 
you  meet  first  F  " 

AVe  sat  down  upon  a  grassy  bench  beside 
the  stream,  where  1  at  once  began  thi  nar- 
rative of  my  first  acquaintance  with  De 
Meudon.  At  firsl  the  rush  of  ••  osations 
i  hat  '.iinc  crowding  on  me  made  me  speak 
with  difficulty  and  effort.  Tin-  flutter  of 
Ik  r  dress  as  th"  sofl  wind  waved  it  to  and 
fro,  the  melody  of  her  voice,  and  her  full, 
languid  eye,  where  sorrow  and  long- 
buned  affection  mingled  their  expression, 
sent  thrilling  through  my  hearl  thoughts 
that  I  dared  not  dwell  upon.  Gradually, 
as  I  proceeded,  my  mind  recurred  to  my 
poor  friend,  and  I  warmed  as  1  spoke  of 
his  heroic  darings  and  his  bold  counsels. 
All  his  high-souled  ardor,  all  the  noble- 
ness of  his  great  nature,  his  self-devotion 
and  his  suffering,  were  again  before  me, 
mingled  with  those  trails  of  womanly  soft- 
ness which  only  belong  to  those  whose 
courage  is  almost  fanaticism.  How  her 
dark  eyes  grew  darker  as  she  listened,  and 
her  parted  lips  and  her  fast-heaving  bosom 
betrayed  the  agitation  that  she  felt  !  And 
how  that  proud  look  melted  into  sorrow 
when  I  told  of  the  day  when  his  outpour- 
ing heart  recurred  to  home  and  her,  the 
loved  one  of  his  boyhood  ! 

Every  walk  in  that  old  terraced  garden, 
each  grassy  alley,  and  each  shady  - 
knew  as  though  I  saw  them.  Although  I 
did  not  mention  Claude,  not  even  distinct- 
ly allude  to  the  circumstances  which  led 
to  their  unhappiness,  I  could  see  that  her 
cheek  became  paler  and  paler,  and  tiiat, 
despite  an  increased  effort  to  seem  calm, 
the  features  moved  with  a  slight  jerking 
motion,  her  lip  trembled  convulsively,  and, 
with  a  low,  sad  sigh,  she  fell  back  faint- 
ing. 

I  sprang  down  the  bank  toward  the 
lake,  and  in  an  instant  dipped  my  shako 
in  the  water  ;  and  as  I  hastened  back,  she 
was  sitting  up,  her  eyes  staring  madly 
round  her,  her  look  wild  almost  to  insani- 
ty, while  her  outstretched  finger  pointed 
to  the  copse  of  low  beech  near  us. 

"  There,  there  !  I  saw  him  !  "  said  she. 
"He  was  there  now.  Look!  look!" 
Shocked  at  the  terrified  expression  of  her 
features,  and  alarmed  lest  my  story  had 
conjured  up  before  her  disordered  imagi- 
nation the  image  of  her  lost  brother,  I 
spoke  to  her  in  words  of  encouragement. 
"No,  no,"  replied  she  to  my  words;  "I 
saw  him — I  heard  Ms  voice,  too.  Let  us 
leave  this.  Bring  me  to  the  Trianon ; 
and—"  The  terrified  and  eager  look  she 
threw  around  at  each  word  did  not  admit 
!  of  longer  parley,  and  I  drew  her  arm  with- 


352 


Oil .  I  RL  ES  LE  VERS  Wul!  AS. 


in  mine  to  lead  her  forward.  "This  is  no 
fancy,  as  you  deem  it,"  said  she,  in  a  low 
and  broken  tone,  to  which  an  accent  of 
bitterness  lent  a  terrible  power;  "nor 
could  the  grave  give  up  before  me  one  so 
full  of  terror  to  my  heart  as  him  I  saw 
there."  Her  head  sank  heavily  as  she  ut- 
tered this;  and,  notwithstanding  every  ef- 
fort I  made,  she  spoke  no  more,  nor  would 
give  me  any  answer  to  my  questions  re- 
garding the  cause  of  her  fears.  As  we 
walked  forward  we  heard  the  sound  of 
voices,  which  she  at  once  recognized  as  be- 
longing to  the  Court  party,  and  pressing 
my  hand  slightly,  she  motioned  me  to 
leave  her.  1  pressed  the  pale  fingers  to 
my  lips,  and  darted  away,  my  every 
thought  bent  on  discovering  the  cause  of 
her  late  fright.  In  an  instant  I  was  back 
beside  the  lake.  I  searched  every  copse 
and  every  brake.  I  wandered  for  hours 
through  the  dark  woods,  but  nothing 
could  I  see.  1  stooped  to  examine  the 
ground,  but  could  not  even  detect  the 
pressure  of  a  footstep.  The  dried  branches 
lay  unbroken,  and  the  leaves  impressed 
around ;  and  I  at  last  became  convinced 
that  an  excited  brain,  and  a  mind  harass- 
ed by  a  long  sorrow,  had  conjured  up  the 
image  she  spoke  of.  As  I  approached  the 
picket,  which  was  one  of  the  most  remote 
in  my  rounds,  I  resolved  to  ask  the  sentry 
had  he  seen  any  one. 

'•'Yes,  lieutenant,''  said  the  soldier;  "a 
man  passed  some  short  time  ago  in  an  un- 
dress uniform.  He  gave  the  word,  and  I  let 
him  proceed." 

"  Was  he  old  or  young  ?" 

"Middle-aged,  and  of  your  height." 

"  Which  way  did  he  take  ?" 

"  He  turned  toward  the  left  as  he  passed 
out ;  I  lost  sight  of  him  then." 

I  hurried  immediately  onward,  and  en- 
tered the  wood  by  the  path  in  the  direction 
mentioned,  my  mind  painfully  excited  by 
wdiat  I  heard,  and  resolved  to  do  every- 
thing to  probe  this  matter  to  the  bottom  ; 
but,  though  I  walked  miles  in  every  di- 
rection, I  met  none  save  a  few  fagot-gath- 
erers, and  they  had  not  seen  any  one  like 
him  I  sought  for.  With  a  weary  and  a 
heavy  heart  I  turned  toward  my  quarters, 
all  the  happiness  of  my  morning  dashed  by 
the  strange  event  I  have  related.  My 
night  was  feverish  and  disturbed  :  for  a 
long  time  I  could  not  sleep,  and,  when  I 
did,  wild  and  terrible  fancies  came  on  me, 
and  I  started  up  in  terror.  A  horrible 
face  recurred  at  every  instant  to  my  mind's 
eye  ;  and  even  when  awake,  the  least  noise, 
the  slightest  rustling  of  the  leaves  in  the 
park,  agitated  and   excited  me.     At  last, 


worn  out  with  the  painful  struggle  be- 
tween sleep  and  waking,  1  arose  and  dress- 
ed. The  day  was  breaking,  and  already 
the  birds  were  caroling  to  the  rising  sun. 
I  strolled  out  into  the  park.  The  fresh 
and  bracing  air  of  morning  cooled  my 
burning  brow ;  the  mild  influences  of  the 
hour,  when  sweet  perfumes  float  softly  in 
the  dew-loaded  breeze,  soothed  and  calmed 
me  ;  and  I  wandered  back  in  thought  to 
her  who  already  had  given  a  charm  to  my 
existence  J  never  knew  before. 

The  long-wished-for  dream  of  my  boy- 
hood was  realized  at  last.  I  knew  the 
sister  of  my  friend.  I  sat  beside  her,  and 
heard  her  speak  to  me  in  tones  so  like  his 
own.  1  was  no  longer  the  friendless  alien, 
without  one  to  care  for,  cne  to  feel  interest- 
ed in  his  fortunes.  The  isolation  that 
pressed  so  painfully  on  me  fled  before  that 
thought,  and  now  I  felt  raised  in  my  own 
esteem  by  those  dark  eyes  that  thanked  me 
as  I  spoke  of  poor  Charles.  What  a  thrill 
that  look  sent  through  my  heart !  Oh, 
did  she  know  the  power  of  that  glance  ! 
Could  she  foresee  what  seeds  of  high  am- 
bition her  every  smile  was  sowing !  The 
round  of  my  duty  was  to  me  devoid  of  all 
fatique,  and  I  returned  to  my  quarters  with 
a  light  step  and  a  lighter  heart. 

The  entire  day  I  lingered  about  the 
Trianon  and  near  the  lake,  but  Marie  never 
came,  nor  did  she  appear  in  the  walks  at 
all.  "  Was  she  ill  ?  had  the  vision,  what- 
ever it  was,  of  yesterday,  preyed  upon  her 
health  ?"  were  my  first  thoughts,  and  I 
inquired  eagerly  if  any  doctor  had  been 
seen  about  the  chateau  ;  but  no,  nothing 
unusual  seemed  to  have  occurred,  and  a 
ball  was  to  take  place  that  very  evening. 
I  would  have  given  worlds,  were  they  mine, 
even  to  know  in  what  part  of  the  palace 
she  was  lodged  ;  and  fifty  times  did  I  af- 
fect to  have  some  duty,  as  an  excuse  to 
cross  the  terrace,  and  steal  a  cautious 
glance  toward  the  windows,  but  in  vain. 

So  engrossed  was  my  mind  with  thoughts 
of  her  that  I  forgot  ail  else.  The  pickets, 
too,  I  had  not  visited  since  daybreak,  and 
my  report  to  the  minister  remained  unfill- 
ed. It  wras  late  in  the  evening  when  I  sal- 
lied forth  to  my  duty,  and  night,  with 
scarce  a  star,  was  falling  fast-  My  pre- 
occupation prevented  my  feeling  the  way 
as  I  walked  along  ;  and  I  had  already  vis- 
ited all  the  outposts  except  one,  when  a  low, 
faint  whistle,  that  seemed  to  issue  from  the 
copse  near  me,  startled  me.  It  was  repeat- 
ed after  a  moment,  and  I  called  out, 

"Who's  there?     Advance." 

"Ah,  I  thought  it  was  you,  Burke,"  said 
a  voice  I  at  once  knew  to  be  Beauvais's. 


TOM   BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


353 


"You  broke  faith  with  me  at  the  town- 
gate  yonder,  and  so  I  had  to  come  down 
'here.'' 

."  How  ?  You  surely  were  not  there 
when  I  passed  ? " 

"  Yes,  but  I  \\;i :.  though.  Did  yon  no! 
see  the  woodcutter,  with  his  blouse  on  his 
arm,  lighting  his  pipe  at  the  door  of  the 
guardhouse  ?" 

"Yes;  but  you  can't  mean  that  it  was 
you." 

"Do  you  remember  Ids  saying,  '  Buy  a 
cheap  charreiee  of  wood,  lieutenant — I'll 
leave  it  at  your  quarters  ?' ' 

"De  Beau vais,"  said  I,  gravely,  "these 
risks  may  be  fatal  to  us  both.  My  orders 
are  positive,  and  if  1  disobey  them  there 
are  no  powerful  friends  nor  high  relatives 
to  screen  me  from  a  deserving  punish- 
ment." 

"  What  folly  you  speak,  Burke  !  If  I  did 
not  know  you  better,  I  should  say  you 
grudged  me  the  hospitality  I  have  myself 
asked  you  for.  One  night  to  rest — and  I 
need  it  much,  if  you  knew  but  all — and 
one  day  to  speak  to  Marie,  and  you  have 
done  with  me.     Is  that  too  much  ?" 

"No-  not  if  I  did  not  betray  a  trust  in 
sheltering  you,  far  too  little  to  speak  of, 
much  less  thank  me  for  ;  but — " 

"  Do  spare  me  these  scruples,  and  let  us 
take  the  shortest  way  to  your  quarters  ;  a 
supper,  and  three  chairs  to  sleep  on,  are 
worth  all  your  arguments,  eloquent  though 
they  be." 

We  walked  on  .together,  almost  in  si- 
lence ;  I  overwhelmed  with  fear  for  the  re- 
sult should  my  conduct  ever  become  known, 
he  evidently  chagrined  at  my  reception  of 
him,  and  little  disposed  to  make  allowances 
for  scruples  he  would  not  have  respected 
himself. 

"So  here  we  are  at  last,"  said  be,  as  he 
threw  himself  on  my  little  sofa,  seemingly 
worn  out  with  exhaustion.  I  had  now  time 
to  look  at  him  by  the  light,  and  almost 
started  back  at  the  spectacle  that  presented 
itself.  His  dress,  which  was  that  of  the 
meanest  peasant,  was  ragged  and  torn  ;  his 
shoes  scarce  held  together  with  coarse 
thongs,  and  his  beard,  unshaven  for  weeks 
past,  increased  the  haggard  look  of  features 
where  actual  want  and  starvation  seemed 
impressed.  "You  are  surprised  at  my 
costume,"  said  he,  with  a  sad  smile  ;  "  and, 
certes,  Crillac  would  not  court  a  customer 
habited  as  I  am  just  now  ;  but  what  will  you 
say  when  I  assure  you  that  the  outward 
man — and  you  will  not  accuse  him  of  any 
voluptuous  extravagance — has  a  very  great 
advantage  over  the  inner  one  ?  In  plain 
words,  lieutenant,  you'd  hurry  your  cook, 
vol.  i. — 23 


if  you  knew  I  have  not   tasted  food 
what;  the  hedges  afford,  Eor  I  ivo  ''.;.    ;  not 
from  poverty  neither;  there's  wherewithal 
there  to  dine,  even. al  Beauvilliers's."     He 
rattled  a  well-filled  purse  as  lie  .-poke. 

"  Come,  come,  !  >e  Beam  a 
me  of  doing  the  honor-  with  a   bad 
and,  in  '  trill  h,  1     wish    1    were    your    host 
outside  the  pickets  ;  hut  let  me  retrieve  my 
character  a  little   -taste  this  capon." 

"If  you  never  dined  with  a  wolf  you 
shall  now,"  said  he,  drawing  his  chair  to 
the  table  and  filling  a  large  goblel  with 
Burgundy.  For  ten  or  fifteen  minute-  he 
ate  on  like  a  man  whom  long  starvation 
had  rendered  half  savage  ;  then  ceasing 
suddenly,  he  looked  up,  and  said  :  "  Lieu- 
tenant, the  cuisine  here  might  tempi  a 
more  fastidious  man  than  I  am  ;  and  if 
these  people  are  not  hospitable  enough  to 
invite  you  to  their  .soirees,  they  certainly 
do  not  starve  you  at  home." 

"  How  knew  you  that  I  was  not  asked  to 
the  chateau?"  said  I,  reddening  with  a 
sense  of  offended  pride  I  could  not  con- 
ceal. 

"Know  it?  Why,  man,  these  things 
are  known  at  once  ;  people  talk  of  them  in 
saloons  and  morning  visits,  and  comment 
on  them  in  promenades  ;  and  though  I 
seem  not  to  have  been  keeping  company 
with  the  lean  mo  fide  latterly,  I  hear  what 
goes  on  there  too.  But  trust  me.  boy,  if 
your  favor  stands  not  high  with  the  Court 
of  to-day,  you  may  perhaps  be  preparing 
the  road  to  fortune  with  that  of  to-mor- 
row/' 

"Though  you  speak  in  riddle,  De  Beau- 
vais,  so  long  as  I  suspect  that  what  you 
mean  would  offer  insult  to  those  I  serve, 
let  me  say — and  I  say  it  in  all  temper  but  in 
all  firmness — you'll  find  no  ready  listener 
in  me.  The  highest  favor  I  aspire  to  is 
the  praise  of  our  great  chief,  General  Bo- 
naparte, and  here  I  pledge  his  health.'' 

"I'll  drink  no  more  wine  to-night."  said 
he  sulkily,  pushing  his  glass  before  him. 
"  Is  this  to  be  my  bed  ?  " 

"Of  course  not ;  mine  is  ready  for  you. 
I'll  rest  on  the  sofa  there  ;  for  I  shall  have 
to  visit  my  pickets  by  daybreak." 

"In  Heaven's  name,  for  what  ?  "  said  he, 
with  a  half  sneer.  "What  can  that  poor 
Savary  be  dreaming  of  ?  Is  there  any  one 
about  to  steal  the  staircase  of  -the  Louvre. 
or  the  clock  from  the  pavilion  of  the  Tui- 
lcries  ?  or  is  it  the  savants  of  the  Institute 
he's  afraid  of  losing  ?  " 

"Rail  on,  my  good  friend:  you'll  find 
it  very  bard  to  make  an  old  scholar  of  the 
Polytechnique  think  poorly  of  the  man  that 
gains  battles." 


354 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


"Well,  well,  I  give  up  my  faith  in  phy- 
siognomy.    Do  you   remember  that  same 

evening  in  the  Tuileries,  when  I  asked  your 
pardon,  and  begged  to  be  your  friend  ?  1 
thought  you  a  different  fellow  then  from 
what  1  see  yon  now;  that  silly  hussar  pe- 
lisse has  turned  many  ahead  before  yours." 

"You  wish  to  make  meangry,  De  Beau- 
vais, and  you'll  not  succeed.  A  night's 
rest  will  bring  you  to  a  better  temper  with 
all  the  world." 

"  Will  it,  faith  !  In  that  case  a  tolera- 
bly large  portion  of  it  must  take  leave  of  it 
before  morning  ;  for  I  promise,  you,  my 
worthy  hussar,  there  are  some  1  don't  ex- 
pect to  feel  so  very  charitably  toward  as 
you  expect." 

"  Well,  well — what  say  you  to  bed  ?  " 

"  I'll  sleep  where  I  am,"  said  he,  with 
some  harshness  in  his  tone.  "  Good- 
night." The  words  were  scarcely  uttered 
when  he  turned  on  his  side,  and,  shading 
.his  eyes  from  the  light  with  his  hand,  fell 
fast  asleep. 

It  was  already  past  midnight,  and  as  I  was 
fatigued  with  my  day's  walking,  I  soon  re- 
tired to  my  bed,  but  not  to  rest.  When- 
ever I  closed  my  eyes,  Beauvais's  pale  and 
worn  face  seemed  before  me — the  haggard 
expression  of  suffering  and  privation  ;  and 
then  I  fell  to  thinking  what  enterprise  of 
danger  could  involve  him  in  such  necessi- 
ties as  these.  It  must  be  one  of  peril,  or 
he  had  not  become  what  now  I  saw  him. 
His  very  voice  was  changed — its  clear, 
manly  tone  was  now  harsh  and  dissonant  ; 
his  frank  and  cheerful  look  was  downcast 
and  suspicious. 

At  last,  worn  out  Avith  thinking,  I  fell 
asleep,  but  was  suddenly  awakened  by  a 
voice  shouting  from  the  outer  room.  I  sat 
up  and  listened.  It  was  De  Beauvais,  call- 
ing wildly  for  help  ;  the  cry  grew  fainter, 
jind  soon  sank  into  the  long-drawn  respira- 
tion of  repose.  Poor  fellow  !  even  in  his 
dreams  his  thoughts  were  of  strife  and 
danger. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 


A  "WARNING. 


The  day  was  just  breaking  when  I  was 
up  and  stirring,  resolving  to  visit  the  pick- 
ets before  Pe  Beauvais  awoke,  for  even  still 
the  tone  of  ridicule  he  assumed  was  strong 
before  me.  I  passed  stealthily  through  the 
room  where  he  was  still  sleeping  :  the  faint 
light  streamed  through  the  half-closed 
shutters,  and  fell  upon  a  face  so  pale,  so 
haggard,  and  so  worn,  that  I  started  back 


in  horror.  How  altered  was  he,  indeed, 
from  what  I  had  seen  him  first !  The 
cheek  once  ruddy  with  the  flush  of  youth  was 
now  pinched  and  drawn  in  ;  the  very  lips 
were  bloodless,  as  if  not  illness  alone,  but 
long  fasting  from  food,  had  pressed  upon 
him.  His  hair,  too,  which  used  to  fall  up- 
on his  shoulders  and  on  his  neck  m  rich 
and  perfumed  locks,  silky  and  delicate  as  a 
girl's,  was  now  tangled  and  matted,  and 
hung  across  his  face  and  temples  wild  and 
straggling.  Even  to  his  hands  his  changed 
condition  was  apparent  ;  for  they  were  torn 
and  bleeding;  while  in  the  attitude  of 
sleep,  you  could  trace  the  heavy  uncon- 
scious slumber  of  one  utterly  worn  out  and 
exhausted.  His  dress  was  of  the  coarse 
stuff  the  peasants  wear  in  their  blouses, 
and  even  that  seemed  old  and  worn.  What 
strange  career  had  brought  him  down  to 
this  I  could  not  think  ;  for  poor  as  all 
seemed  about  him,  his  well-stocked  purse 
showed  that  this  costume  was  worn  rather 
for  disguise  than  necessity.  Such  was  my 
first  thought ;  my  second,  more  painful 
still-,  recurred  to  her  he  loved,  by  whom  he 
was,  perhaps,  beloved  in  turn.  Oh !  if 
.anything  can  add  to  the  bitter  smart  of 
jealousy,  it  is  the  dreadful  conviction  that 
she  for  whom  our  heart's  best  blood  would 
flow  to  insure  one  hour  of  happiness,  has 
placed  her  whole  life's  fortune  on  the  veriest 
chance,  bestowing  her  love  on  one  whose 
life  gives  no  guarantee  for  the  future — no 
hope,  no  pledge,  that  the  world's  wildest 
schemes  of  daring  and  ambition  are  not 
dearer  to  his  eyes  than  all  her  charms  and 
affections.  How  does  our  own  deep  devo- 
tion come  up  before  us  contrasted  with 
this  !  and  how,  in  the  consciousness  of 
higher  motives  and  more  ennobling 
thoughts,  do  we  still  feel  inferior  to  him 
who,  if  poor  in  all  besides,  is  rich  in  her 
love.  Such  envious  feelings  filled  my 
heart  as  I  looked  on  him  ;  and  with  slow, 
sad  step  I  moved  on,  when  by  accident  I 
came  against  a  chair,  and  threw  it  down. 
The  noise  awoke  him,  and  with  a  spring 
he  was  on  his  legs,  and,  drawing  a  pistol 
from  his  bosom,  cried  out, 

"  Ha  !— what  is't  ?  Why,  Burke,  it's 
you!     What  hour  is  it  ?" 

"  Not  four  yet.  I'm  sorry  to  have  dis- 
turbed you,  De  Beauvais  ;  but  the  chair 
here—" 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  placed  it  so  last  night.  I 
felt  so  very  heavy  that  I  could  not  .trust 
myself  with  waking  to  a  slight  noise. 
Where  to,  so  early  ?  Ah  !  these  pickets — 
I  forgot."  And  with  that  he  lay  down 
again,  and  before  I  left  the  house  was  fast 
asleep  once  more. 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


355 


Some  trifling  details  of  duty  detained 
me  at  one  or  two  of  the  outposts,  and  it 
wals  beyond  my  usual  time  when  I  turned 
homeward.  I  had  but  just  readied  the 
broad  alley  that  leads  to  the  foot  of  the 
great  terrace,  when  I  saw  a  figure  before 
me  hastening  onward  toward  the  chateau. 
The  flutter  of  the  dress  showed  it  to  be  a 
woman,  and  then  the  thought  flashed  on 
me — it  was  Mademoiselle  de  Meudon.  Yes, 
it  was  her  step — I  knew  it  well.  She  had 
left  the  palace  thus  early  to  meet  De  Beau- 
vais.  Without  well  knowing  what  I  did,  I 
had  increased  my  speed,  and  was  now  rap- 
idly overtaking  her.  when  the  noise  of  my 
footsteps  on  the  ground  made  her  turn 
about  and  look'  hack.  I  stopped  short  sud- 
denly. An  indistinct  sense  of  something 
culpable  on  my  part,  in  thus  pursuing  her, 
flitted  across  my  mind,  and  I  could  not 
move.  There  she  stood,  too,  motionless  ; 
but  for  a  second  or  two  only,  and  then 
beckoned  to  me  with  her  hand.  I  could 
scarcely  trust  my  eyes,  nor  did  I  dare  to 
stir  till  she  had  repeated  the  motion  twice 
or  thrice. 

As  I  drew  near,  I  remarked  that  her  eyes 
were  red  with  weeping,  and  her  face  pale  as 
death.  For  a  moment  she  gazed  steadfastly 
at  me,  and  then,  with  a  voice  whose  accent 
I  can  never  forget,  she  said, 

"And  you,  too,  the  dearest  friend  of  my 
own  Charles,  whose  very  deathbed  spoke  of 
loyalty  to  him,  how  have  you  been  drawn 
from  your  allegiance  ?  " 

I  stood  amazed  and  astounded,  unable  to 
utter  a  word  in  reply,  when  she  resumed  : 

"  For  them  there  is  reason;  too.  They 
lived,  or  their  fathers  did,  in  the  sunshine 
of  the  old  monarchy.  Wealth,  rank,  riches, 
power — all  were  theirs  :  but  you.  who  came 
amongst  us  with  high  hopes  of  greatness, 
where  others  have  earned  them  on  the  field- 
of  battle — whose  youth  is  a  guarantee  that 
base  and  unworthy  thoughts  should  form 
no  part  of  his  motives,  and  whose  high  ca- 
reer began  under  the  very  eyes  of  him,  the 
idol  of  every  soldier's  heart — oh  !  why  turn 
from  such  a  path  as  this,  to  dark  and 
crooked  ways,  where  low  intrigue,  and  plot, 
and  treachery  are  better  weapons  than  your 
own  stout  heart,  and  your  own  bright 
sword  ?  " 

"  Hear  me,  I  pray  you,''  said  I,  bursting 
into  impatience — "hear  me  but  one  word, 
and  know  that  you  accuse  me  wrongfully. 
1  have  no  part  in,  nor  have  I  knowledge  of, 
any  treason." 

"  Oh,  speak  not  thus  to  me.  There  are 
those  who  may  call  their  acts  by  high- 
sounding  titles,  and  say — 'We  are  but  re- 
storing our  own  sovereigns  to  the  land  they 


owned  : '  but  you  are.  free  to  think  ai   If   •! 
No  prestige  of  long  years  blind    your  rea- 
son, or  oli-t racts  your  sense  of  rigl 

"  Once  more  I  .-wear,  that   t  lie 
hiii  guess  at  where  your  suspicions  point, 
my  fail  It  is  now  as  t  rue,  mj  i  rm, 

as  w  hen  I  pledged  mj  3elf  at  your  dear 
brother's  side  to  be  a  soldi 

"  Then  why  have  you  mixed  yourself 
with  their  intrigues  ?  Why  are  you  already 
suspected  ?  Why  has  Madame'  Bonaparte 
received   orders  to  omil  your  Dame  in  all 

the  invitations  to  the  chateau  ?  " 

"Alas!  I  know  not.  I  learn  now,  for 
the  first  time,  that  suspicion  ever  attached 
to  me." 

"It  is  said,  too — for  a1  ch  things 

are  spoken  of  —  that  you  know  thai  dreadful 
man,  whose  very  presence  is  contamination. 
Oh!  does  it  not  seem  like  fate,  thai  hie 
dark  path  should  traverse  every  portion  of 
my  destiny  ?  " 

The  sobs  that  burst  from  her  at  these 
words  seemed  to  rend  her  very  besom. 

"They  say,"  continued  she,  while  her 
voice  trembled  with  strong  emotion — "  they 
say  he  has  been  here." 

"I  know  not  of  whom  you  speak,*'  said 
I,  as  a  cold  chill  ran  through  my  blood. 

"  Mehee  de  la  Touche,"  replied  she,  with 
an  effort. 

"I  never  heard  of  him  till  now — the 
very  name  is  unknown  to  me." 

"Thank  God  for  this,"  muttered  she  be- 
tween her  teeth.  "  I  thought,  perhaps, 
that  De  Beauvais  had  made  you  known  to 
each  other." 

"  No  ;  De  Beauvais  never  introduced 
me,  save  to  some  friends  of  his  one  evening 
at  a  supper,  several  months  back  ;  and  only 
one  of  them  have  I  ever  seen  since,  an  Abbe 
d'Ervan  ;  and,  indeed,  if  I  am  guilty  of 
any  breach  of  duty,  I  did  not  think  the  re- 
proach was  to  come  from  you." 

The  bitterness  of  these  last  words  was 
wrung  from  me  in  a  moment  of  wounded 
pride. 

"  How  !  what  mean  you  ?  "  said  she,  im- 
petuously. "No  one  has  dared  to  call  my 
fidelity  into  question,  nor  speak  of  me  as 
false  to  those  avIio  cherish  and  protect  me." 

"You  mistake  my  meaning,"  said  I, 
sadly  and  slowly  ;  then  hesitating  how  far 
I  should  dare  allude  to  De  Beanvais's 
affection,  I  stopped,  when  suddenly  her 
face  became  deeply  flushed,  and  a  tear 
started  to  her  eye.  "Alas,  she  loves  him," 
said  I  to  my  heart,  and  a  sickness  like 
death  passed  over  me. 

"Leave  me,  leave  me  quickly,"  cried 
she.  "I  see  persons  watching  us  from  the 
terrace."    And  with  that,  she  moved  hastily 


356 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


on  toward  the  chateau,  and   I  turned  into 

one  of  the  narrow  walks  that  led  into  the 
wood. 

Two  trains  of  thought  struggled  for  mas- 
tery in  my  mind  :  how  had  I  become  sus- 
pected ?  how  should  I  wipe  out  the  stain 
upon  my  honor  ? 

There  was  not  an  incident  of  my  life 
since  my  landing  in  France  I  did  not  call 
to  mind  ;  and  yet,  save  in  the  unhappy 
meeting  with  De  Beauvais,  I  could  see  not 
the  slightest  probability  that  even  malevo- 
lence could  attach  anything  to  my  reputa- 
tion. From  D'Ervan,  it  is  true,  I  heard 
more  than  once  opinions  that  startled  me  ; 
less,  however,  by  anything  direct  in  their 
meaning,  than  that  they  were  totally  new 
and  strange  ;  and  yet  the  abbe,  I  had  every 
reason  to  believe,  was  a  friend  of  the  pre- 
sent government — at  least  it  was  evident  he 
was  on  terms  of  close  intimacy  with  Mon- 
sieur Savary. 

"De  Beauvais  must  clear  up  some  of 
these  doubts  for  me,"  thought  I  ;  "he  must 
inform  me  more  particularly  as  to  those  to 
whom  he  introduced  me.  1  shall  endeavor 
to  learn,  too,  something  of  their  schemes, 
and  thus  guard  myself  against  the  mere 
chance  of  suspicion,  for  unquestionably  he 
is  not  in  ignorance  of  the  movement,  what- 
ever it  be."  And  with  such  intentions  I 
hurried  onward,  eager  to  reach  my  quar- 
ters. 

As  I  entered  my  room,  a  low,  heavy  sob 
broke  on  my  ear  ;  I  started  back  with  sur- 
prise. It  was  De  Beauvais,  who  sat,  his 
head  buried  in  his  hands,  leaning  on  the 
table. 

"  Ha  !  "  said  he,  springing  up,  and  pass- 
ing his  hand  hurriedly  across  his  eyes,  "  so 
soon  back  !     I  scarcely  expected  you ." 

"  It  is  past  ten  o'clock — a  full  hour  later 
than  my  usual  return." 

"Indeed!"  rejoined  he,  with  an  air  of 
impertinent  surprise.  "  So  then  your 
pickets  have  been  arresting  and  detaining 
some  poor  devils  gathering  fagots  or  acorns  ; 
or  have  you  unfathomed  the  depth  of  this 
terrible  plot  your  Prefet  de  Police  has  be- 
come insane  about  ?  " 

"  Neither,"  said  I,  affecting  a  careless 
tone.  "  The  government  of  the  Consul  is 
sufficiently  strong  to  make  men's  minds 
easy  on  that  score.  Whatever  intrigues  are 
at  work,  they  are  as  little  likely  to  escape 
his  keen  eye  as  their  perpetrators  are,  when 
taken,  the  fire  of  a  grenadier  company." 

"  Ma  foi,  sir,  you  speak  confidently," 
replied  he,  in  an  accent  of  pride  totally  dif- 
ferent from  his  former  tone.  "  And  yet  I 
have  heard  of  persons  just  as  confident,  too, 
who  afterward  confessed  they  had  been  mis- 


taken.  But,  perhaps,  it  seems  less  strange 
to  you  that  a  sous-lieutenant  of  artillery 
should  rule  the  destinies  of  France,  than 
thai  the  king  of  the  country  should  resume 
the  throne  of  his  ancestors." 

"Take  care,  De  Beauvais,  with  whom 
you  speak.  I  warn  you  ;  and  be  assured  I'll 
not  be  trifled  with.  One  word  more,  and  I 
put  you  under  arrest." 

"  Not  here,  surely,"  replied  he,  in  a  low 
and  searching  voice.  "Not  here.  Let  us 
walk  out  into  the  park — let  it  be  in  the 
great  alley,  or  on  the  terrace  yonder  ;  or, 
better  still,  let  the  capture  take  place  in  the 
w'ood  ;  bufdo  not  let  your  loyally  violate 
the  hospitality  of  your  home." 

"  Forgive  me,  I  pray  ;  I  knew  not  what 
I  said.  You  tempted  me  sorely,  though. 
Think  but  for  a  moment,  De  Beauvais,  how 
1  stand  here,  and  let  your  owrn  heart  judge 
me.  I  am  an  alien — a  friendless  stranger. 
There  lives  not  one  in  all  the  length  and 
breadth  of  France  wdio  would  raise  a  finger, 
or  speak  one  word  to  save  me,  were  my  head 
in  peril.  My  sword  and  my  fidelity  are  all 
my  hope  :  that  both  should  remain  pure 
and  unblemished  is  all  my  wish.  The  grade 
I  have  I  owe  to  him — " 

"Great  cause  for  gratitude,  truly,"  he 
broke  in.  "The  chief  cleve  of  the  Poly- 
technique  is  made  a  sous-lieutenant  of 
cavalry,  with  functions  of  a  sergeant  of  the 
gendarmerie  ;  with  orders  to  stop  all  travel- 
ers and  search  their  pockets.  Shame  on 
it !  It  was  not  thus  the  rightful  sovereigns 
of  France  regarded  those  who  wore  their 
epaulettes — not  thus  did  they  esteem  the 
soldier's  part.  Think,  for  a  second,  what 
you  are,  and  then  reflect  what  you  might 
be.  Cold  and  unimpassioned  as  you  call 
yourself,  I  know  your  heart  better.  There 
Jives  not  one  who  treasures  a  higher  ambi- 
tion in  his  breast  than  you.  Ah  !  your  eyes 
sparkle  already.  Think,  then,  I  say,  what 
a  career  opens  before  you,  if  you  have  cour- 
age to  embrace  it.  It's  a  great  game  that 
enables  a  man  to  spring  from  sous-lieu- 
tenant to  colonel  of  a  regimeut.  Come, 
Burke,  I  can  have  no  reason,  save  your 
welfare,  to  press  these  considerations  on 
you.     What  are  you  writing  there  ?" 

"  A  report  to  the  Prefet  de  Police.  I  see 
now,  however  late  it  is,  the  unworthiness  of 
the  part  I  have  acted,  in  remaining  in  a 
service  where  I've  listened  to  statements 
such  as  these.  I  shall  ask  to  have  my  grade 
withdrawn,  and  be  reduced  to  the  ranks  ; 
there,  perhaps,  I  may  be  permitted  to  carry 
a  soldier's  musket  without  a  stain  upon  my 
honor." 

"You  can  do  better,  sir,"  interrupted 
he,  as  his  face  grew  purple  with  passion, 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


35? 


and  his  eyes  flashed  fire  —  "  far  better  :  call 
up  your  dragoons  yonder,  and  place  me, 
where  you  threatened,  under  arrest  ;  for- 
ward your  report  to  the  minister,  thai 
Henri  de  Beauvais,  Marquis  et  Pair  de 
France,  when  such  things  were,  has  been 
taken  with  the  '  Croix  de  St.  Louis  '  and  the 
cordon  in  his  possession."  Here  he  took 
from  his  bosom  the  decoration,  and  waved 
it  above  his  head.  "  Add,  too,  that  he 
came  prepared  to  tempt  your  loyalty  with 
this."  He  drew  forth  at  the  words  a  parch- 
ment document,  and  dashed  it  on  the  table 
before  me. 

"There,  sir,  read  it :  it  is  the  king's  own 
handwriting — your  brevet  of  colonel  to  a 
regiment  of  the  Gardes.  Such  proofs  of 
your  devotion  can  scarcely  go  unrewarded. 
They  may  raise  you  to  the  rank  of  police 
spy.  There  is  a  lady  yonder,  too,  who 
should  also  share  in  your  elevation,  as  she 
does  in  your  loyal  sentiments — Mademoi- 
selle de  Meudon  may  be  too  quick  for  you. 
Lose  no  time,  sir  ;  such  chances  as  these 
are  not  the  fruit  of  every  day.  After  all, 
I  can  Scarcely  go  to  the  guillotine  under 
better  auspices  than  with  my  cousin  and  my 
friend  as  my  betrayers.  Mayhap,  too,  they'll 
do  you  the  honor  to  make  you  mount  guard 
beside  the  scaffold.  Such  an  occasion  to 
display  your  devotion  should  not  escape 
you.  David  found  it  profitable  to  catch  the 
expiring  agonies  of  his  own  friends,  as 
with  easel  and  brush  he  sat  beside  the  guil- 
lotine.    The  hint  should  not  be  lost." 

The  insulting  emphasis  with  which  he 
spoke  the  last  words  cut  me  to  the  very 
heart,  and  I  stood  speechless  before  him, 
trembling  like  a  criminal. 

"Let  us  part,  De  Beauvais,"  said  I,~at 
length,  as  I  held  my  hand  .toward  him. 
"Let  us  say  adieu  to  each  other,  and  for- 
ever. I  can  forgive  all  you  have  said  to  me 
far  better  than  I  could  myself  had  I  lis- 
tened to  your  persuasions.  What  may  lie 
honorable  and  just  in  you  would  be  black 
ingratitude  and  dark  treachery  in  me.  I 
shall  now  endeavor  to  forget  we  have  ever 
met,  and  once  more,  good-by  ! " 

"You  are  right,"  replied  he,  after  a 
pause  of  some  seconds,  and  in  a  tone  of 
great  sadness.  "  We  never  should  have 
met.     Adieu  ! " 

"  One  word  more,  De  Beauvais.  I  find 
that  I  have  been  suspected  of  some  treason- 
able intercourse,  that  even  here  I  am 
watched  and  spied  upon  ;  tell  me,  I  be- 
seech you,  before  you  go,  from  what  quar- 
ter comes  this  danger,  that  I  may  guard 
against  it." 

"  In  good  truth,  you  give  me  credit  for 
quicker  perceptions  than  I  have  any  right  to. 


How  so  loyal  a  gentleman  should  lie  under 
such  an  imputation,  I  cannot  even  guess." 

"Your  sneers  shall  no!  proyoke  me.  The 
facl  is  as  1  state  U  ;  and  if  you  will  not  help 
me  to  the  discovery,  tell  me,  at  least,  who 
are  the  person  to  whom  you  introduced  me 
formerly  at  Beativillier 

"  Very  excellenl  company  !  1  trust  none 
of  them  have  cheated  yon  ai  ccarte." 

"Pray,  have  done  with  jesting,  and 
answer  me.     Who  isyour  abbe  'i  " 

"Mafoi,  he  is  the  Abbe  d'Ervan.  What 
part  of  France  he  comes  from— who  are 
his  family,  friends,  and  resources— are  all 
questions  I  have  never  thought  proper  to 
ask  him,  possibly  because  1  am  no!  bo  scru- 
pulous on  the  score  of  my  acquaintances 
as  you  are.  He  is  a  very  clever,  amusing, 
witty  person — knows  almost  every  one- 
the  entree  into  every  house  in  the  Fau- 
bourg St.  Germain — can  compose  a  coup- 
let, and  sing  it — make  a  mayonnaise  or  a 
madrigal  better  than  any  man  I  know  — 
and,  in  fact,  if  he  were  one  of  these  days  to 
be  a  minister  of  France,  I  should  not  be  so 
very  much  surprised  as  you  appear  this  mo- 
ment at  my  not  knowing  more  about  him. 
As  to  the  other,  the  Russian  Secretary,  or 
spy,  if  you  like  the  phrase  better,  he  was 
unlucky  enough  to  have  one  of  his  couriers 
robbed  by  a  party  of  brigands,  which,  scan- 
dal says,  were  sent  out  for  the  purpose  by 
Monsieur  Talleyrand.  His  secret  dispatch- 
es were  opened  and  read  ;  and  as  they  were 
found  to  implicate  the  Russian  government 
in  certain  intrigues  carrying  on,  the  Czar 
had  only  one  course  open,  which  was  tore- 
call  the  Sec,  and  disavow  his  whole  pro- 
ceedings. The  better  to  evince  his  dis- 
pleasure, I  hear  they  have  slit  his  nose,  and 
sent  him  to  pass  the  winter  at  Tobolsk. 
Lastly,  the  prefet — what  shall  I  say  of  him. 
save  that  he  was  a  prefet  in  the  south,  and 
wants  to  be  one  again.  His  greatest  endea- 
vors in  any  cause  will  be  to  pledge  its  suc- 
cess in  Burgundy,  or,  if  you  wish,  drink 
the  downfall  of  its  enemy  ;  and  as  to  his 
enthusiasm,  he  cares  a  devilish  deal  more 
for  a  change  of  weather  than  a  change  of 
dynasty,  particularly  in  the  truffle  season, 
or  when  the  vines  are  ripening.  Such  are 
the  truly  dangerous  associates  you  have 
kept  company  with.  It  now  only  remains 
to  speak  of  my  humble  self,  whose  history, 
I  need  scarcely  say,  is  far  more  at  your 
service  than  worth  the  hearing.  Are  you 
satisfied  ?  " 

"Quite  so,  as  regards  me  ;  by  no  means 
sos  however,  as  to  your  fate.  Short  as  our 
intimacy  has  been,  I  have  seen  enough  of  yon 
to  know  that  qualities  like  yours  should  not 
be  wasted  in  a  mad  or  hopeless  enterprise." 


358 


CHARLES  LEVERS    MORKS. 


"Who  told  you  it  was  either  ?"  inter- 
rupted he,  impetuously.  "Who  dares  to 
say  that  the  rule  of  a  usurper  is  more  firm- 
ly placed  than  the  prestige  of  a  monarchy, 
that  goes  hack  to  Hugues  Capet?  Come, 
come!  I  will  not  discuss  these  questions 
with  you,  in>r  have  I  temper  now  left  to  do 
so.  Give  me  the  countersign  to  pass  the 
sentry,  and  let  us  part." 

"  Not  in  anger,  though,  Do  Beauvais." 

"Not  m  friendship,  sir,"  replied  he, 
proudly,  as  lie  waved  back  with  his  my 
proffered  hand.  "Adieu  !"  said  he,  in  a 
softened  tone,  as  he  moved  from  the  room, 
and  then,  turning  quickly  round,  he  add- 
ed :  "  We  may  meet  again  hereafter,  and 
scarcely  can  do  so  on  equal  terms.  If  for- 
tune stand  by  you — 1  must  be  a  beggar  ; 
should  I  win — yours  is,  indeed,  a  sorry  lot. 
When  that  time  comes,  let  him  with  whom 
the  world  goes  best  not  forget  the  other. 
Good-by  !"  And  with-that  he  turned  away, 
and  left  the  house. 

I  watched  him  as  he  strode  along  the  si- 
lent alleys,  careless  and  free  as  though  he 
had  no  cause  for  fear,  till  he  disappeared 
in  the  dark  wood,  and  then  I  sat  down  at 
the  door  to  think  over  our  interview. 
Never  had  my  heart  felt  more  depressed. 
My  own  weakness  in  having  ever  admitted 
the  intimacy  of  men  whose  dangerous  de- 
signs were  apparent  had  totally  undermined 
the  strong  principle  of  rectitude  I  should 
have  relied  upon  in  such  a  trial,  and  on 
which  I  could  have  thrown  myself  for  sup- 
port. What  had  I  to  guide  me  after  all, 
save  my  devotion  to  the  cause  of  Bona- 
parte himself  ?  The  prejudices  of  educa- 
tion— the  leanings  of  family  opinion — the 
inclinations  of  friends — exist  not  for  the 
alien.  He  has  to  choose  his  allegiance — it 
is  not  born  with  him  ;  his  loyalty  is  not  the 
growth  of  a  hundred  different  sympathies, 
that  have  twined  round  his  heart  in  child- 
hood, and  grown  with  him  to  manhood, 
speaking  of  home  and  infancy — of  his  own 
native  streams  and  mountains — of  a  land 
that  was  his  father's.  No  !  with  him  it  is 
not  a  conviction — it  is  but  a  feeling.  Such 
was  the  substance  of  my  reverie  ;  and  as  I 
arose  and  strolled  out  into  the  park,  it  was 
with  a  deeply-uttered  vow  to  be  true  to  him 
and  his  fortunes  whose  name  first  lit  the 
spark  of  ambition  in  my  heart,  and  through 
weal  or  woe  to  devote  myself  to  him. 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

THE    "CHATEAU." 

The  same  day  that  De  Beauvais  left  me, 
the  Court  took   its   departure   from  Ver- 


sailles.  A  sudden  resolution  of  the  Con 
sul  to  visit  the  camp  at  Boulogne,  where 
he  was  to  be  accompanied  by  Madame 
Bonaparte,  was  announced  as  the  reason 
for  this  change,  while  a  dark  rumor  ran 
that  some  detected  scheme  for  his  assassi- 
nation had  induced  his  friends  to  advise 
this  step.  Certain  it  was,  the  preparations 
were  made  with  the  utmost  speed,  and  in 
less  than  an  hour  alter  the  dispatch 
arrived  from  Paris,  the  Court  was  on  its 
way  back  to  the  capital. 

It  was  not  without  a  sense  of  sadness 
that  I  watched  the  equipages  as  they  rolled 
one  by  one  from  beneath  the  deep  colon- 
nade, and  traversed  the  wide  terrace,  to 
disappear  in  the  recesses  of  the  dark 
forest.  I  strained  my  eyes  to  catch  even  a 
passing  look  at  one,  who  to  me  had  made 
every  walk  and  every  alley  a  thing  to  love. 
But  I  could  not  see  her  ;  and  the  last  roll 
of  the  retiring  wheels  died  away  in  the 
distance  without  one  friendly  voice  to  say 
adieu — one  smile  at  parting. 

Though  I  had  not  participated  in  the 
festivities  of  the  chateau,  nor  eve'n  been 
noticed  by  any  of  the  guests,  the  absence 
of  its  gay  world,  the  glitter  of  its  brilliant 
cortege,  the  neighing  steeds  in  all  their 
bright  panoply,  the  clank  of  military 
music,  the  gorgeously  dressed  ladies  who 
strolled  along  its  terraced  walks,  made  the 
solitude  that  followed  appear  dark  and 
desolate  indeed  ;  and  now,  as  I  walked  the 
park,  whose  avenues  at  noonday  were 
silent  as  at  midnight,  the  desertion  im- 
parted a  melancholy  feeling  to  my  heart 
I  could  not  explain.  How  often  had  I 
stopped  beneath  that  balcony,,  striving  to 
distinguish  the  soft  tones  of  one  gentle 
voice  amid  the  buzz  of  conversation  !  How 
had  I  watched  the  crowded  promenade 
every  evening  upon  .the  terrace,  to  see  one 
figure  there  among  the  rest  !— and  when 
my  eye  had  fallen  upon  her,  how  has  it 
followed  and  traced  her  as  she  went ! 
And  now  I  frequented  each  spot  where  I 
had  ever  seen  her,  pacing  at  sunset  the  very 
walk  she  used  to  take,  dwelling  on  each 
word  she  ever  spoke  to  me.  The  chateau, 
too,  of  which  before  I  had  not  passed  the 
door,  I  now  revisited  again  and  again, 
lingering  in  each  room  where  I  thought 
she  had  been,  and  even  resting  on  the 
chairs,  and  calling  up  before  me  her 
image  as  though  present. 

Thus  passed  over  weeks  and  months. 
The  summer  glided  into  the  mellow 
autumn,  and  the  autumn  itself  grew  cold 
and  chill,  with  grayish  skies  and  sighing 
winds  that  swept  the  leaves  along  the  dark 
walks,  and  moaned  sadly  among  the  tall 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


359 


beecli-trees.  The  still,  culm  waters  of  the 
little  lake,  that  reflected  the  bright  foliage 
and  the  deep-blue  sky,  motionless  as  in  a 
mirror,  was  now  ruined  by  the  passing 
breeze,  and  surged  with  a  low,  sad  sound 
against  its  rocky  sides ;  and  as  1  watched 
these  changes,  I  sorrowed  less  forthe  depart- 
ing season,  than  that  every  truce  of  her  I 
loved  was  fading  from  before  me.  The 
bare  and  skeleton  brunches  now  threw  their 
gaunt  shadows  where  I  had  seen  her  walk 
iit  noonday,  enveloped  in  deep  shade. 
Dark,  watery  clouds  were  hurrying  across 
the  surface  of  the  stream  where  I  had  seen 
her  fair  form  mirrored.  The  cold  winds 
of  coming  winter  swept  along  the  princely 
terrace,  where  not  a  zephyr  rustled  her 
dress  as  she  moved;  and,  somehow,  I 
could  not  help  connecting  these  changes 
with  my  own  sensations,  and  feeling  that 
a  gloomy  winter  was  approaching  to  my 
own'  most  cherished  hopes. 

Months  passed  over  with  me  thus,  m 
which,  save  on  my  round  of  duty,  I  never 
spoke  to  any  one.  D"Ervan  did  not  return 
as  he  promised — a  circumstance  which, 
with  all  my  solitude,  I  sincerely  rejoiced 
at — and  of  De  Beauvais  I  heard  nothing  ; 
and  yet,  on  one  account,  I  could  have 
wished  much  to  learn  where  he  was. 
Unhappily,  in  the  excitement  of  the 
morning  I  last  saw  him,  he  forgot  on  the 
table  at  my  quarters  the  commission  of 
colonel,  by  which  he  had  endeavored  to 
tempt  my  ambition,  and  which  I  never 
noticed  till  several  hours  after  his  depart- 
ure. Unwilling  to  destroy,  and  yet  fearful 
of  retaining  it  in  my  possession,  I  knew 
not  well  what  to  do,  and  had  locked  it  up 
in  my  writing-desk,  anxiously  looking  for 
an  opportunity  to  forward  it  to  him.  None 
such,  however,  presented  itself,  nor  did  I 
ever  hear  from  him  from  the  hour  he  left 
me. 

The  unbroken  solitude  in  which  I  lived 
disposed  me  to  study,  and  I  resumed 
the  course  which,  in  earlier  days,  had 
afforded  me  so  much  interest  and  amuse- 
ment ;  and  by  this,  not  only  was  my  mind 
drawn  off  from  the  contemplation  of  the 
painful  circumstances  of  my  own  loneli- 
ness, but  gradually  my  former  ardor  for 
military  distinction  came  back  in  all  its 
force  ;  and  thus  did  I  learn,  for  the  first 
time,  how  many  of  the  griefs  that  our 
brains  beget  find  their  remedies  in  the 
source  they  spring  from — the  exercise  of 
the  intellect  being  like  that  of  the  body,  an 
essential  to  a  healthy  state  of  thinking  and 
feeling.  Each  day  imparted  fresh  energy 
to  me  in  the  path  I  followed  ;  and  in  these 
solitary  hours  I  made  those  accpiisitions  in 


knowledge,   which,    in   after-life,    were   to 

me   the   mosl    important 
and  prepare  me  for  the  ■  _   aciee  of  a 

soldier's  career. 

While  thus  engaged,  time  rolled  over, 
and  already  the  dark  and  gloomy  month  of 
January  set  in  with  clouded  skies  and 
nights  of  storm  and  rain.  Everything 
wore  its  most  cheerless  aspect.  Not  only 
were  the  t  re<  s  lean*  >are,  the 

broken    up  and    fissured   with    streams   of 
water,  but  the       _  I    look  of  the  cha- 

teau itself  bespoke  •  id  gloomy  sea- 

son. The  closed  shutters,  the  closely-1 
doors,  the  statues  covered  up  with  m 
protect  them  from  the  weather,  the  con- 
servatories despoiled  of  all  their  gay  habit- 
ants, betrayed  that  the  time  was  past 
when,  in  the  warm  air  of  summer,  happy 
groups  wandered  hither  and  thither,  inhal- 
ing the  rich  odors  of  the  flowers,  and 
gazing  on  the  brilliant  landscape. 

It  was  about  nine  o'clock  at  night.  The 
storm  that  usually  began  each  evening  at 
the  same  hour  was  already  stirring  in  fitful 
gusts  among  the  bare  branches  of  the  trees, 
or  sending  a  sudden  plash  of  rain  against 
the  windows  when,  as  I  drew  closer  to  my 
fire,  and  was  preparing  to  enjoy  myself  for 
the  evening  over  my  book,  I  heard  the 
regular  tramping  sound  of  a  cavalry  horse 
approaching  along  the  terrace — the  jingle 
of  the  accoutrements  was  a  noise  I  could 
not  mistake.  I  arose,  but  before  I  reached 
the  door  I  heard  a  deep  voice  call  out, 

"The  Sous-Lieutenant  Burke — a  dis- 
patch from  Paris."' 

I  took  the  paper,  which  was  sealed  and 
folded  in  the  most  formal  manner,  and  re- 
turning to  the  room  opened  it.  The  con- 
tents ran  thus  : 

"  Sous-Lieutenant, — On  receipt  of  this 
you  are  commanded  to  station  four  dra- 
goons of  your  party,  with  a  corporal,  on 
the  road  leading  from  Chaillot  ro  Versailles, 
who  shall  detain  all  persons  passing  that 
way,  unable  to  account  satisfactorily  for 
their  presence.  You  will  also  station  a 
picket  of  two  dragoons  at  the  cross-road 
from  the  Tron  to  St.  Cloud  for  the  like 
purpose.  The  remainder  of  your  party  to 
be  under  arms  during  the  night,  and,  if 
requisite,  at  the  disposal  of  Captain  Le- 
pelletier.  For  the  execution  of  which  the 
present  order  will  be  your  responsibility. 
(Signed) 

"  S  A  VARY, 

"  Colonel  de  Gendarmerie  d'Elite. 
"  Given  at  the  Tuileries,  Jan.  14,  1804." 

"  So,"  thought  I,  ''there  is,  then,  some- 


360 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


thing  astir  after  all.  These  precautions  all 
indicate  minute  and  accurate  information  ; 
and  now  to  perform  my  part."  Just  at 
that  instant  I  perceived  at  my  feel  a  small 
note,  which  apparently  had  fallen  from  bhe 
envelope  as  1  opened  it — I  took  it  up.  It 
was  addressed — "  Sous-Lieutenant  Burke," 
with  the  words  i-  in  haste  "  written  in  the 
corner.  Tearing  it  open  at  once,  I  read 
the  following  : 

"  All  is  discovered — Pichegru  arrested 
— Moreau  at  the  Temple.  A  party  have 
left  this  to  capture  the  others  at  the  Cha- 
teau d'Ancre  ;  they  cannot  he  there  before 
midnight  ;  you  may  then  yet  be  in  time  to 
save  H.  de  13.,  who  is  among  them.  Not  an 
instant  must  be  lost." 

There  was  no  signature  to  this  strange 
epistle,  but  I  knew  from  whom  it  came. 
Marie  alone  could  venture  on  such  a  step 
to  save  her  lover.  My  own  determination 
was  taken  at  once  ;  should  my  head  be  on 
it,  I'd  do  her  bidding.  While  I  sent  for 
the  sergeant  to  give  him  the  orders  of  the 
colonel,  I  directed  my  servant  to  bring 
round  my  horse  to  the  door  as  lightly 
equipped  as  possible,  and,  save  the  hols- 
ters, nothing  of  his  usual  accoutre- 
ments. Meanwhile  I  prepared  myself  for 
the  road  by  loading  my  pistols  and  fastening 
on  my  sword  ;  the  commission,  too,  which 
De  Beauvais  had  left  behind,  I  did  not  for- 
get, but  taking  it  from  my  desk,  I  placed 
it  safely  in  my  bosom  ;  nor  was  the  brief 
billet  omitted,  which,  having  read  and  re- 
read, I  placed  in  the  lining  of  my  cap 
for  safety.  One  difficulty  still  presented 
itself — where  was  the  chateau,  and  how  in 
the  darkness  of  a  winters  night  should  I 
find  it  ?  I  just  then  remembered  that  my 
troop  sergeant,  a  sharp,  intelligent  fellow, 
had  been  for  some  weeks  past  engaged  in 
procuring  forage  about  the  neighborhood  for 
several  miles  round.  I  sent  for  him  at 
once  and  asked  him  if  he  knew  it. 

"  Yes,  lieutenant,  perfectly.  It  was  an 
old  seigneurie  once  ;  and  though  much  dis- 
mantled, has  a  look  of  respectability  still 
about  it.  I've  often  been  there  to  buy  corn  ; 
but  the  gruff  old  farmer,  they  say,  hates 
the  military,  and  it's  not  easy  to  get  him  to 
deal  with  us  at  all." 

"What's  the  distance  from  here." 

"  Two  leagues  and  a  half,  almost  three — 
indeed  you  may  count  it  as  much,  the  road 
is  so  bad. " 

"  Now  then  for  the  way— describe  it — be 
as  brief  as  you  pan." 

"  You  know' the  cross  on  the  high-road 
beyond  Ypres  ?  " 


"  I  do.     Proceed." 

••  Passing  the  cross  and  the  little  shrine, 
go  forward  for  a  mile  or  something  more, 
|  till  you  come  to  a  small  cabaret  on 
i  the  roadside,  at  the  end  of  which  you'll 
find  a  '  cliemin  de  traverse,'  a  clay  road, 
which  will  lead  you  up  the  fields  about  half 
a  league,  to  a  large  pond,  where  thej  water 
the  cattle  ;  cross  this  and  continue  till  you 
:  see  the  lights  of  a  village  to  your  left  ;  the 
barking  of  the  dogs  will  guide  you  if  the 
lights  be  out ;  .don't  enter  the  village, 
!  but  go  on  till  you  meet  an  old  gale  way 
i  covered  with  ivy,  enter  there,  and  you  are 
in  the  avenue  of  the  chateau  ;  the  high- 
road is  full  five  leagues  about,  but  you'll 
easily  find  this  way.  There's  a  mastiff 
there  you  should  be  on  your  guard  against, 
though  you  must  not  fire  on  him  either  ; 
they  were  going  to  take  my  life  once,  that 
I  half  drew  a  pistol  from  my  holster  against 
him,  and  I  heard  one  of  the  fellows  say  to 
another,  that  monseigneur's  dog  was  well 
worth  a  i  bleu  '  any  day,  whatever  he  meant 
by  that." 

Very  few  minutes  sufficed  to  give  my  or- 
ders respecting  the  picket,  and  I  was  in 
my  saddle  and  ready  for  the  road  ;  and 
although  my  departure  excited  no  surprise 
among  my  men,  coupled  as  it  was  with  the 
orders  I  had  just  given,  I  overheard  the 
troop  sergeant  mutter  to  another  as  I  pass- 
ed out — "  Par  bleu,  I  always  suspected 
there  was  something  wrong  about  that  old 
chateau  yonder — come  what  weather  it 
would,  they'd  never  let  you  take  shelter 
within  the  walls  of  it." 

The  night  was  so  dark,  that  when  I 
turned  into  the  road  I  could  not  even  dis- 
tinguish my  horse's  head  ;  heavy  drifts  of 
rain,  too,  went  sweeping  along,  and  the 
wind  roared  through  the  forest  with  a 
noise  like  the  sea  in  a  storm. 

I  noAV  put  spurs  to  my  horse,  ancl  the 
animal,  fresh  from  long  pampering,  sprang 
forward  madly,  and  dashed  onward.  The 
very  beating  of  the"  rain,  the  adverse  wind, 
seemed  to  chafe  his  spirit  and  excite  his 
courage.  With  head  bent  down,  and 
hands  firmly  grasping  the  reins,  I  rode  on, 
till  the  faint  glimmering  of  a  light  caught 
my  eye  at  a  distance.  A  few  miles  brought 
me  beside  it.  It  was  a  little  candle  that 
burned  in  the  shrine  above  the  image  of 
the  Virgin.  Some  pious  but  humble  hand 
had  placed  it  there,  regardless  of  the  ram 
and  storm  ;  and  there  it  was  now  burning 
secure  from  the  rude  assaults  of  the  harsh 
night,  and  throwing  its  yellow  light  on  the 
few  cheap  trinkets  which  village  devotion 
had  consecrated  to  the  beloved  saint.  As 
I  looked  at  the  little   altar,  I    thought   of 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


361 


the  perilous  enterprise  I  was  engaged  in. 
I  could  have  wished  my  heart  to  have 
yielded  to  the  influence  of  a  superstition, 
which  for  every  moment  of  life  seems  to 
have  its  own  apt  consolation  and  succor. 
For,  when  as  wayworn  travelers  refresh 
their  parched  lips  at  some  roadside  well, 
nnd  bless  the  charity  that  carved  the  little 
basin  m  the  rock — so,  followers  of  this 
faith  have  ever  and  anon  before  their  eyes 
some  material  evidence  of  their  Church's 
benevolence — now  arming  them  again -I 
the  arrows  of  the  world — now  rendering 
them  grateful  for  benefits  received — now 
taxing  their  selfishness  by  sacrifices  which 
elevate  them  in  their  own  esteem — now 
comforting  them  by  examples  which  make 
them  proud  of  their  afflictions.  It  is  this 
direct  appeal  from  the  human  heart  to  the 
hourly  consolations  of  religion  that  forms 
the  stronghold  of  belief  in  Catholic  coun- 
tries. 

These  thoughts  were  passing  through 
my  mind  long  after  I  left  the  little  shrine 
behind  me.  "  So,"  said  1",  "  here  must  be 
the  cabaret  the  sergeant  spoke  of,"  as  I 
heard  the  sound  of  a  voice  issuing  from  a 
small  house  on  the  roadside.  For  a  second 
or  two  I  hesitated  whether  I  should  not  dis- 
mount and  ask  the  way  ;  but  a  mo  merit's 
consideration  satisfied  me  it  were  better  to 
risk  nothing  by  delay ;  and,  cautiously 
advancing,  I  heard  by  the  sound  of  mjr 
horse's  feet  that  we  had  left  the  high-road, 
and  were  now  on  the  clay  path  I  looked  for. 

Again  I  dashed  onward  at  a  gallop,  my 
powerful  horse  splashing  through  the  deep 
ground,  or  striding  boldly  across  the  heavy 
fui-rows — now  breasting  some  steep  and 
rugged  ascent,  where  the  torn-up  way  gave 
passage  to  a  swollen  rivulet  ;  now  plunging 
down  into  some  valley,  where  the  darkness 
seemed  thicker  and  more  impenetrable  still. 
At  last  I  could  see,  far  down  beneath  me, 
the  twinkling  light  of  the  village,  and  began 
to  deliberate  with  myself  at  what  point  I 
should  turn  off  leftward.  Each  moment 
the  path  seemed  to  lead  me  in  the  direction 
of  the  light,  while  I  felt  that  my  road  led 
straight  onward.  I  drew  my  rein  to  delib- 
erate what  course  I  should  take,  when  di- 
rectly in  front  of  me  I  thought  I  could  de- 
tect the  clank  of  a  sabre  Happing  against 
the  flank  of  a  horse.  I  lowered  my  head 
on  a  level  with  my  horse's  mane,  and  could 
now  distinctly  hear  the  sound  I  suspected, 
and,  more  still,  the  deep  tones  of  a  sol- 
dier's voice  interrogating  some  one,  who, 
hy  the  patois  of  his  answer,  I  guessed  to 
be  a  peasant. 

"You  are  certain,  then,  we  have  not 
come  wrong,"  said  the  horseman. 


'•'Ah  !  I  know  the  way  too  well  for  that — 
traveling  h  daylight  and  dark  since  1  was 
a  boy.  !  was  born  in  the  tillage  below. 
We  shall  soon  reach  the  little  woo 
bridge,  and  then,  turning  to  the  left,  be- 
side  Martin  Guichard's — 

'"  What  care  I  for  all  that  ?  "  interupt- 
ed  the  other  roughly.  "  How  far  are  we 
now  from  the  chateau  ?  Is  it  still  a  league 
off  ?  " 

"Parbleu!— No!  nor  the  half  of  it. 
When  yon  rise  the  hill  yonder,  you'll  see  a 
light  ;  they  always  have  one  burning  in 
the  tourefle  there — and  that's  the  cha- 
teau." 

"Thank  Heaven  for  that!"  muttered 
I ;  "and  now  only  let  me  pass  them,  and 
all  is  safe." 

The  figures  before  me,  whom  1  could 
now  dimly  trace  in  the  darkness,  were  de- 
scending step  by  step  a  rugged  and  narrow 
path,  where  a  tall  hedge  formed  a  wall  on 
either  side.  To  get  before  them  here, 
therefore,  was  out  of  the  question  ;  my 
only  chance  was  by  a  detour  through  the 
fields  to  come  down  upon  the  village,  and, 
if  possible,  gain  the  bridge  he  spoke  of  be- 
fore them.  Quick  as  the  thought,  I 
turned  from  the  deep  road  to  the  still  deep- 
er earth  of  the  plowed  field  beside  it, 
My  horse — a  strong  and  powerful  Nor- 
man—needed  but  the  slightest  movement 
of  the  hand  to  plunge  hotly  on.  My  eyes 
bent  upon  the  twinkle  of  the  few  lights 
that  still  marked  the  little  hamlet,  I  rode 
fearlessly  forward ;  now  tearing  madly 
through  some  low  osier  fence — now  slip- 
ping in  the  wet  and  plashy  soil,  where  each 
stride  threatened  to  bring  us  both  to  the 
earth.  The  descent  became  soon  almost 
precipitous  ;  but  the  deep  ground  gave  a 
footing,  and  I  never  slackened  my  speed. 
At  length,  with  a  crashing  sound,  I  found 
that  we  had  burst  the  little  inclosure  of 
some  village  garden,  and  could  dimly  trace 
the  outline  of  a  cottage  at  some  distance 
in  front.  Dismounting  now,  I  felt  my 
way  cautiously  for  the  path  that  usually 
conducts  at  the  end  of  the  cabin  to  the 
garden.  This  I  soon  made  out,  and  the 
next  minute  was  in  the  street.  Happily, 
the  storm,  which  raged  still  as  violently  as 
before,  suffered  no  one  to  be  without  doors  ; 
and  save  the  rare  glimmer  of  a  light,  all 
was  sunk  in  darkness. 

I  walked  on  beside  my  horse  for  some 
minutes,  and  at  last  I  heard  the  rushing 
sound  of  a  swollen  river,  as  it  tore  along 
in  its  narrow  bed;  and  approaching  step 
by  step  discovered  the  little  bridge,  which 
simply  consisted  of  two  planks,  unprotect- 
ed by  any  railing  at  either  side.     With  a 


3G2 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


little  difficulty  I  succeeded  in- leading  my 
hor3e  across,  and  was  jus!  about  to  mount, 
when  the  sound  of  the  trooper's  voice  from 
the  village  street  again  reached  me. 

A  sudden  thought  flashed  through  my 
mind.  Each  moment  might  now  he  pre- 
cious; and  stooping  down,  I  lifted  the  end 
of  the  plank,  and  scut  it  with  a  crush  into 
the  stream  ;  the  other  soon  followed  it  ; 
and  before  1  was  in  my  saddle  again  the 
torrent  was  carrying  them  along  amid  the 
rocks  of  the  stream. 

"  Here  is  a  misfortune,"' cried  the  peas- 
ant, in  a  tone  of  misery  ;  "the  bridge  has 
been  earned  away  by  the  flood." 

"  Tonnerre  de  ciel!  And  is  there  no 
other  way  across  ?"  said  the  dragoon,  in  a 
voice  of  passion. 

I  waited  nor  to  hear  more,  but  giving 
the  spur  to  my  horse,  dashed  up  the  steep 
bank,  and  the  next  moment  saw  the  light 
of  the  chateau,  for  such  I  guessed  to  be  a 
bright  star  that  twinkled  at  a  distance. 
"  Speed  now  will  do  it,"'  said  I,  and  put  my 
strong  Norman  to  his  utmost.  The  wind 
tore  past  me  scarce  fasterthan  I  went,  while 
the  beating  ram  came  round  me.  The 
footway  soon  altered,  and  I  found  that  we 
were  crossing  a  smooth  turf  like  a  lawn. 
"Ha  !  this  is  the  old  gate,"  thought  I,  as  a 
tall  arcliAvay,  overhung  with  ivy  and  closed 
by  a  strong  door,  opposed  further  progress. 
I  beat  loudly  against  it  with  the  heavy 
handle  of  my  whip,  but  to  no  purpose  ;  the 
hoarse  voice  of  the  storm  drowned  all  such 
sounds.  I  dismounted,  and  endeavored  to 
make  myself  heard  by  knocking  with  a 
large  stone.  I  shouted,  I  cried  aloud,  but 
all  in  vain.  My  terror  increased  every 
instant.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  The 
dragoon  might  arrive  at  an}''  moment,  and 
then  I  myself  must  share  the  ruin  of  the 
others.  Maddened  by  the  emergency  that 
each  moment  grew  more  pressing,  I  sprang 
into  the  saddle,  and,  following'  the  direc- 
tion of  the  wall,  rode  round  to  the  other 
side  of  the  chateau,  seeking  some  open  spot, 
some  break  whereby  to  enter. 

I  had  not  gone  far,  when  I  saw  a  portion 
of  the  wall  which,  broken  and  dilapidated, 
afforded  the  opportunity  I  desired.  I  hes- 
itated not,  but  dashed  wildly  at  it.  My 
horse,  unaccustomed  to  such  an  effort, 
chested  the  barrier,  and  came  rolling  head- 
foremost to  the  earth,  throwing  me  several 
yards  before  him.  A  cry  of  pain  escaped 
me  as  I  fell  ;  and  I  scarcely  could  gain  my 
knees  to  rise,  Avhen  the  hoarse  bay  of  a  sav- 
age dog  broke  upon  my  ear,  and  1  heard 
the  animal  tearing  through  the  brushwood 
toward  me.  I  drew  my  sabre  in  a  trice, 
and  scarce  knowing  at  what  side  to  defend 


myself,  laid  wildly  about  me,  while  1 
3hoi  ted  with  all  my  might  for  help.  The 
furious  beast  sprang  like  a  tiger  at  my 
throat,  and,  thong!)  wounded  by  a-  chance 
cu.t,  seized  me  in  his  terrible  fangs.  For- 
tunately the  strong  collar  of  my  uniform 
served,  io  protect  me ;  but  the  violence  of 
the  assault  carried  me  off  my  balance,  and 
we  rolled  one  over  the  other  Io  the  ground. 
Grasping  his  throat  with  both  hands  I  en- 
deavored to  strangle  him,  while  he  vainly 
sought  to  reach  my  face.  At  this  critical 
moment  my  cries  were  heard  within,  and  nu- 
merous lights  flitted  up  and  down  in  front 
of  the  chateau,  and  a  crowd  of  persons,  ail 
armed,  were  quickly  about  me.  Seizing 
the  dog  by  his  collar,  a  peasant  tore  him 
away  ;  while  another,  holding  a  lantern  to 
my  face,  cried  out  in  a  voice  of  terror, 
"  They  arc  upon  us  !     We  are  lost  !  " 

"  Parbleu  I  you  should  let  Colbert  finish 
his  work — he  is  a  'blue  : '  they  are  but  food 
for  dogs  any  day." 

"  Not  so,"  said  another,  in  a  low,  deter- 
mined voice  ;  "this  is  a  surer  weapon." 

I  heard  the  cock  of  a  pistol  click  as  he 
spoke. 

"Halt  there! — Stop,  I  say!"  cried  a 
voice,  in  a  tone  of  command.  "1  know 
him — I  know  him  well.  It's  Burke.  Is  it 
not  ?  " 

It  was  De  Beauvais  spoke,  while  at  the 
same  moment  he  knelt  down  beside  me  on 
the  grass,  and  put  his  arm  round  my  neck. 
I  whispered  one  word  into  his  ear.  He 
sprang  to  his  feet,  and,  with  a  hasty  direc- 
tion to  assist  me  toward  the  house,  disap- 
peared. Before  I  could  reach  the  door  he 
was  again  beside  me. 

"And  you  did  this  to  save  me,  dear 
friend  ?"  said  he,  in  a  voice  half  stifled 
with  sobs.  "  You  have  run  all  this  danger 
for  my  sake  ?  " 

I  did  not  dare  to  take  the  merit  of  an  act 
I  had  no  claim  to,  still  less  to  speak  of  her 
for  whose  sake  I  risked  my  life,  and  leaned 
on  him  without  speaking,  as  he  led  me 
within  the  porch. 

"  Sit  down  here  for  a  moment- -but  one 
moment."'  said  he,  in  a  whisper,  "and  I'll 
return  to  you. " 

I  sat  down  upon  a  bench,  and  looked 
about  me.  The  place  had  all  the  evidence 
of  being  one  of  consequence  in  former  days  : 
the  walls,  wainscoted  in  dark  walnut  wood, 
were  adorned  with  grotesque  carvings  of 
hunting  scenes  and  instruments  of  "  ven- 
erie  ;"  the  ceiling  in  the  same  taste,  lis- 
played  trophies  of  weapons,  intermingled 
with  different  emblems  of  the  "ehasse," 
while  in  the  center,  and  inclosed  within  a 
garter,  were  the  royal  arms  of  the  Bour- 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


3  ;:3 


bons  :  the  gilding  that  once  shone  on  I  hem 
was  tarnished  and  faded;  the  Jlenr  de-lis, 
too,  were   broken   and    dilapidated,   while 

but  a  stray  letter  of  the  proud  motto  re- 
mained, as  if  not  willing  to  survive  the 
downfall  of  those  on  whom  it  was  now  less 
a  boast  than  a  sarcasm.  As  1  sat  thus,  the 
wide  hall  was  gradually  idled  with  men, 
whose  anxious  and  excited  faces  betokened 
the  fears  my  presence  had  excited,  while 
not  one  ventured  to  speak  or  address  a 
word  to  me.  Most  of  them  were  armed 
with  cutlasses,  and  some  carried  pistols  in 
belts  round  their  waists  ;  while  others  had 
rude  pikes,  whose  coarse  fashion  betokened 
the  handiwork  of  a  village  smith.  They 
stood  in  a  semicircle  round  me  ;  and  while 
their  eyes  were  riveted  upon  me  with  an 
expression  of  most  piercing  interest,  not  a 
syllable  was  spoken.  Suddenly  a  door  was 
opened  at  the  end  of  a  corridor,  and  De 
Beauvais  called  out, 

"  This  way,  Burke — come  this  Avay  !" 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

"  THE   CHATEAU   d'aNCRE." 

Before  I  had  time  to  collect  myself  I 
was  hurried  on  by  De  Beauvais  into  a 
room,  when,  the  moment  I  had  entered, 
the  door  was  closed  and  locked  behind  me. 
By  the  light  of  a  coarse  and  rudely-formed 
chandelier  that  occupied  the  middle  of  a 
table,  I  saw  a  party  of  near  a  dozen  persons 
who  sat  around  it — the  head  of  the  board 
being  filled  by  one  whose  singular  appear- 
ance attracted  all  my  attention.  lie  was 
a  man  of  enormous  breadth  of  chest  and 
shoulders,  with  a  lofty  massive  head,  on 
either  side  of  which  a  quantity  of  red  hair 
fell  in  profusion  ;  a  beard  of  the  same  color 
descended  far  on  his  bosom,  which,  with  his 
overhanging  eyebrows,  imparted  a  most 
savage  and  ferocious  expression  to  features, 
which  of  themselves  were  harsh  and  repul- 
sive. Though  lie  wore  a  blouse  in  peasant 
fashion,  it  was  easy  to  see  that  he  was  not 
of  the  lower  walk  of  society.  Across  his 
brawny  chest  a  broad  belt  of  black  leather 
passed,  to  support  a  strong  straight  sword, 
the  heavy  hilt  of  which  peeped  above  the 
arm  of  his  chair.  A  pair  of  handsomely- 
mounted  pistols  lay  before  him  on  the 
table;  and  the  carved  handle  of  a  poniard 
could  be  seen  projecting  slightl}r  from  the 
breast-pocket  of  his  vest.  Of  the  rest  who 
were  about  him  I  had  but  time  to  perceive 
that  they  were  peasants— but  all  were  armed, 
and  most  of  them  wearing  a  knot  of  white 
ribbon  at  the  breast  of  their  blouses. 


Every  eye  was  turned  toward  me,  as  I 
stood  al  the  foot  of  the  tab  shed  and 

shless — while  De  Beauvais  quitting  my 
arm,  hastened  to  I  hi   larg  ■  ma  .  ana 

u  hispered  some  words  in  his  ear.     He  i 
loy  \\    from    his  <  hair,  and   in  a  moment 
each  face  was  turned  to  him.  g  in 

a  deep  guttural  tone,  he  addressed  then  'or 
some  minutes  in  a  patois  of  which  I  was 
totally  ignorant— every  word  he  ottered 
seemed  to  stir  their  very  hearts,  if  I  were 
to  judge  from  the  shorl  and  heavj  n  -pira- 
tion— the  deep-drawn  breath — the  flushed 
faces  and  staring  eyes  around  me.  More 
than  once  some  allusion  seemed  made  to 
me — at  least,  they  turned  simultaneously 
to  look  at  me  ;  once,  too,  at  something  he 
said,  each  man  carried  his  hand  round  to 
his  sword-hilt,  but  dropped  it  again,  list- 
lessly, as  he  continued.  The  discourse 
over,  the  door  was  unlocked,  and  one  by 
one  they  left  the  room,  each  man  saluting 
the  speaker  with  a  reverence  as  he  passed. 
out.  De  Beauvais  closed  the  door,  and 
barred  it,  as  the  last  man  disappeared,  and 
turning  hastily  round,  called  out, 

"What  now  ?" 

The  large  man  bent  his.  head  down  be- 
tween his  hands,  and  spoke  not  in  reply — ■ 
then  suddenly  springing  up,  he  said, 

"  Take  my  horse,  he  is  fresh,  and  ready 
for  the  road,  and  make  for  Quiliebceuf  : 
the  ford  at  Montgorge  will  be  swollen — 
but  he'll  take  the  stream  for  you  ; — at  the 
farmer's  house,  that  looks  over  the  river, 
you  can  stop." 

"  I  knOw  it,  I  know  it,''  said  De  Beau- 
vais ;  "  but  what  of  you,  are  you  to  remain 
behind  ?  " 

"I'll  go  with  him,"  said  he,  pointing  to- 
ward me.  "As  his  companion,  I  ean 
reach  the  Bois  de  Boulogne — in  any  case,  as 
his  prisoner — once  there,  you  may  trust  me 
for  the  rest." 

De  Beauvais  looked  at  me  for  a  reply.  I 
hesitated  what  to  say,  and  at  last  said  : 
"For  your  sake,  Henri  de  Beauvais,  and 
yours  onl}',  have  I  ventured  on  a  step  which 
may,  in  all  likelihood,  be  my  ruin.  I 
neither  know,  nor  wish  to  know,  yourplana 
— nor  will  I  associate  myself  with  any  one, 
be  he  who  he  may,  in  your  enterprise." 

"Jacques  Tisscrand,  the  tanner,"  con- 
tinued the  large  man,  as  if  not  heeding  nor 
caring  for  my  interruption,  "will  warn 
Armand  de  Polignacof  what  has  happened; 
and  Charles  dela  liivierehad  better  remain 
near  liiville  for  the  English  cutter — she'll 
lie  off  the  coast  to-morrow  or  next  day. 
Away — lose  not  a  moment." 

"And  my  dear  friend  here,"  said  De 
Beauvais,  turning  to  me,  "  who  has  risked 


364 


OIL  1  R  L  ES    L  E I  'ER'  8   W  0  R  KS. 


his  very  life  to  rescue  me,  shall  I  leave  him 

thus  ?* 

"Can  you  save  him  by  remaining?" 
said  the  other,  as  he  coolly  examined   bhe 

priming  of  his  pistols.     "  We  shall  all  es- 
cape, if  you  be  but  quick." 

A  look  from  De  Beauvais  drew  mo  to- 
ward him,  when  he  threw  his  arms  around 
my  nock,  and  in  a  low,  broken  voice,  mut- 
tered, "  When  I  tell  you  that  all  I  lived  for 
exists  to  mo  no  longer — the  lovo  i  sought  re- 
fused me — my  dearest  ambition  thwarted — 
you  will  not  think  that  a  selfish  desire  for 
life  prompts  me  now  ;  but  a  solemn  oath 
to  obey  the  slightest  command  of  that  man, 
sworn  before  my  sovereign,  binds  me,  and 
I  must  not  break  it." 

"  Away,  away,  I  hear  voices  at  the  gate 
below/'  cried  the  other. 

"Adieu  !  adieu  forever,"  said  De  Beau- 
Vais,  as  he  kissed  my  cheek,  and  sprang 
through  a  small  doorway  in  the  wainscot, 
which  closed  after  him  as  he  went. 

"  Now  for  our  movements,"  said  the  large 
man,  unhooking  a  cloak  that  hung  against 
the  wall.  "  You  must  tie  my  hands  with 
this  cord  in  such  a  way  that,  although 
seemingly  secure,  I  can  free  myself  at  a 
moment ;  place  me  on  a  horse,  a  fast  one 
too,  beside  you  ;  and  order  your  troopers 
to  ride  in  front  and  rear  of  us.  When  we 
reach  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  leave  the 
allee  des  Chasseurs,  and  turn  toward  St. 
Cloud.  Tanner  re  de  ciel,  they're  firing  yon- 
der !  "  An  irregular  discharge  of  small- 
arms,  followed  by  a  wild  cheer,  rang  out 
above  the  sound  of  the  storm.  "Again, 
did  you  hear  that  ?  there  are  the  carbines 
of  cavalry — I  know  their  ring.  Accursed 
dogs,  that  would  not  do  my  bidding," 
cried  he,  stamping  with  passion  on  the 
ground,  while,  throwing  oil  his  blouse,  he 
stuck  his  pistols  in  a  belt  around  his  waist, 
and  prepared  for  mortal  combat.  Mean- 
while, pistol-sho£s,  mingled  with  savage 
shouts  and  wild  hurrahs,  were  heard 
approaching  nearer  and  nearer ;  and  at 
length  a  loud  knocking  at  the  front  door, 
with  a  cry  of  "  They're  here— they're  here  !  " 

The  large  man,  now  fully  armed,  and 
with  his  drawn  sword  in  his  hand,  unlocked 
the  door.  The  passage  without  was  full  of 
armed  peasants,  silent,  and  watchful  for  his 
commands.  A  few  words  in  the  former 
patois  seemed  sufficient  to  convey  them, 
and  their  answer  was  a  cheer  that  made 
the  walls  ring. 

The  chief  moved  rapidly  from  place  to 
place  through  the  crowds,  who,  at  his  bid- 
ding, broke  into  parties  :  some  of  them  oc- 
cupied doorways  which  enfiladed  Hie  hall 
— others  knelt  down  to  sutler  some  to  fire 


above  their  heads;  here  were  bwo  posted, 
armed  with  hatchets,  at  the  very  entrance 
itself  ;  and  six  of  (he  most  determined- 
looking  were  to  dispute  the  passage  with 
their  muskets.  Such  was  the  disposition 
of  the  force,  when  suddenly  the  light,  was 
extinguished,  and  all  left  in  utter  darkness 
— the  deep  breathing  of  their  anxious 
breasts  alone  marked  their  presence — when, 
without  doors,  the  sounds  of  strife  gradu- 
ally died  away,  and  the  storm  alone  was 
heard, 

As  for  me,  I  leaned  against  a  doorway, 
my  arms  folded  on  my  bosom,  my  head 
sunk,  while  I  prayed  for  death,  the  only 
exit  1  could  see  to  my  dishonor. 

There  was  a  terrible  pause — the  very 
hurricane  seemed  to  abate  its  violence,  and 
only  the  heavy  rain  was  heard  as  it  fell  in 
torrents — when,  with  a  loud  crash,  the 
door  in  front  was  burst  open,  and  fell  with 
a  bang  upon  the  floor — not  a  word  from 
those  within,  not  a  motion  betrayed  their 
presence,  while  the  whispered  tones  of  a 
party  without  showed  that  the  enemy  was 
there.  "  Bring  up  the  torches  quickly 
here,"  called  out  a  voice  like  that  of  an 
officer  ;  and  as  he  spoke  the  red  flare  of 
lighted  pine-branches'  was  seen  moving 
through  the  misty  atmosphere.  The  light 
fell  upon  a  strong  party  of  dismounted 
dragoons  and  gendarmerie,  who,  carbine  in 
hand,  stood  waiting  for  the  word  to  dash 
forward.  The  officer,  whose  figure  I  could 
distinguish  as  he  moved  along  the  front  of 
his  men,  appeared  to  hesitate,  and  for  a 
few  seconds  all  stood  motionless.  At 
length,  as  if  having  resolved  on  his  plan, 
he  approached  the  doorway,  a  pine-torch 
in  his  hand— another  step,  and  the  light 
must  have  disclosed  the  dense  array  of 
armed  peasants  that  stood  and  knelt  around 
the  hall — when  a  deep,  low  voice  within 
uttered  the  one  word,  "Now  !"  and  quick, 
as  if  by  his  breath  the  powder  had  been 
ignited,  a  volley  rang  out,  pattering  like 
hail  on  the  steel  breast-plates,  and  through 
the  branches  of  the  trees  ;  a  mingled  shout 
of  rage  and  agony  rose  from  those  without, 
and,  without  waiting  for  a  command,  they 
rushed  onward.  The  peasants,  who  had 
not  time  to  reload  their  pieces,  clubbed 
them  in  their  strong  hands,  and  laid  wildly 
about  them.  The  fight  was  now  hand  to 
hand  :  for,  narrow  as  was  the  doorway, 
some  three  or  four  dragoons  pressed  every 
moment  in,  and  gradually  the  hall  became 
a  dense  mass  of  indiscriminate  combatants. 
The  large  man  fought  like  one  possessed, 
and  cleft  his  way  toward  the  entrance  with 
a  long  straight  dagger,  as  if  regardless  of 
friends  or  foes.      "A  moil  a  moil  "  cried  a 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


3G5 


tall  and  powerful  man,  as  he  sprang  at  his 
throat,  "this  is  he."  The  words  were  his 
last,  as,  stabbed  to  the  very  heart,  he 
sprang  backward  in  his  death  agony;  bui 
ai  the  moment,  a  perfect  shower  of  bullets 
rattled  around  the  large  man,  one  of  which 
alone  took  effect  in  his  shoulder.  Still  he 
strove  onward,  and  at  last,  with  a  spring 
like  a  savage  tiger,  he  lowered  his  head, 
and  bounded  clean  out  into  the  court. 
Scarcely,  however,  had  his  foot  touched 
the  wet  grass,  when  he  slipped  forward, 
and  fell  heavily  on  his  back.  A  dozen 
swords  flashed  above  him  as  he  lay,  and 
only  by  the  most  immense  efforts  of  the 
officer  was  he  spared  death  in  a  bund  red 
wounds.  The  defeat  of  their  leader  seemed 
to  subdue  all  the  daring  courage  of  his 
party  ;  the  few  who  were  able  to  escape 
i lashed  hither  and  thither,  through  pas- 
sages and  doorways  they  were  well  ac- 
quainted with  ;  while  the  flagged  floor  was 
bathed  in  blood  from  the  rest,  as  they  lay 
in  mangled  and  frightful  forms,  dead  and 
dying  on  every  side. 

Like  one  in  some  dreadful  dream,  I  stood 
spectator  of  this  savage  strife,  wishing  that 
some  stray  bullet  had  found  my  heart,  yet 
ashamed  to  die  with  such  a  stain  upon  my 
nonor.  I  crossed  my  arms  before  my  breast, 
and  waited  for  my  doom.  Two  gendarmes 
passed  quickly  to  and  fro  with  torches,  ex- 
amining the  faces  and  looks  of  those  who 
were  still  likely  to  live,  when  suddenly 
one  of  them  cried  out,  as  he  stood  before 
me, 

"  What's  this  ?  An  officer  of  hussars 
here  ! " 

The  exclamation  brought  an  officer  to 
the  spot,  who,  holding  a  lantern  to  my 
face,  said  quickly, 

"  How  is  this,  sir  ?  —  how  came  you 
here?" 

"Here  is  my  sword,  sir,"  said  I,  draw- 
ing it  from  the  scabbard.  "  I  place  myself 
under  arrest.  In  another  place,  and  to 
other  judges,  I  must  explain  my  conduct. " 

" Parbhu !  Jacques,"  said  the  officer, 
addressing  another  who  sat,  while  his 
wounds  were  being  bound  up,  on  a  chair 
near,  "this  affair  is  worse  than  we  thought 
of.  Here's  one  of  the  'Jiuitieme'  in  the 
thick  of  it." 

"I  hope,   sir,"   said 
young  man,  whose  arm 
fusely  from  a  sabre  wound — "  I  hope,  sir, 
your  wound  may  not  be  of  consequence." 

He  looked  up  suddenly,  and,  while  a 
smile  of  the  most  insulting  sarcasm  curled 
his  bloodless  lip,  answered, 

"I  thank  you,  sir,  for  your  sympathy; 
but  you  must  forgive  me  if,  one  of  these 


I,    addressing   the 
was  bleeding  pro- 


days,    1    cannot    bandy   consolations  with 
you." 

"You  are  right,  lieutenant.  '  said  a  dra- 
goon, who  lay  bleeding  from  a  dreadful  cut 
in  the  forehead.     "  I'd  at  I  e:  change  pli 
with    him    myself  this  minute   for  all  his 
epaulettes." 

With  an  overwhelming  sense  of  my  own 
degraded  position,  when  to  such  taunts 
these  I  dared  not  reply,  I  stood  mute  and 
confounded.  Meantime  the  soldiers  were 
engaged  in  collecting  together  the  scattered 
weapons,  fastening  the  wrists  of  the  pri- 
soners with  cords,  and  ransacking  the  house 
for  sued i  proofs  of  I  lu  conspiracy  as  might 
criminate  others  at  a  distance.  By  the  time 
these  operations  w<  re  concluded,  the  day 
began  to  break,  and  I  could  distinguish  in 
the  court-yard  several  large  covered  carts  or 
charrettes  destined  to  convey  the  prisoners. 
One  of  these  was  given  up  entirely  to  the 
chief,  who,  although  only  slightly  wounded, 
would  never  assist  himself  in  the  least,  but 
lay  a  heavy,  inert  mass,  suffering  the  others 
to  lift  him  and  place  him  in  the  cart.  Such 
as  were  too  badly  wounded  to  be  moved 
were  placed  in  a  room  in  the  chateau,  a 
guard  being  left  over  them. 

A  sergeant  of  the  gendarmerie  now  ap- 
proached me  as  I  stood,  and  commenced, 
without  a  word,  to  examine  me  for  any 
papers  or  documents  that  might  be  con- 
cealed about  my  person. 

"  You  are  in  error,"  said  I>  quietly.  "  I 
have  nothing  of  what  you  suspee'." 

"  Do  you  call  this  nothing  ?  "  interrupted 
he,  triumphantly,  as  he  drew  forth  the 
parchment  commission  I  had  placed  in  my 
bosom,  and  forgot  to  restore  to  De  Beau- 
vais.  "  Parbleu  !  you'd  have  had  a  better 
memory  had  your  plans  succeeded." 

"  Give  it  here,"  said  an  officer,  as  he  saw 
the  sergeant  devouring  the  document  with 
his  eyes.  "Ah  !"  cried  he,  starting,  "he 
was  playing  a  high  stake,  too.  Let  him 
be  closely  secured." 

While' the  orders  of  the  officer  were  being 
followed  up,  the  various  prisoners  were 
secured  in  the  carts,  mounted  dragoons 
stationed  at  either  side,  their  carbines  held 
unslung  in  their  hands.  At  last  my  turn 
came,  and  I  was  ordered  to  mount  into  a 
ckarrette  with  two  gendarmes,  whose  orders 
respecting  any  effort  at.  escape  on  my  part 
were  prettv  clearly  indicated  by  the  position 
of  twTo  pistols  carried  at  either  side  of  me. 

A  day  of  heavy,  unremitting  ram,  with- 
out any  wind  or  storm,  succeeded  to  the 
night  of  tempest.  Dark  inky  clouds  lay 
motionless  near  the  earth,  whose  surface  be- 
came blacker  by  the  shadow.  A  weighty 
and  lowering  atmosphere  added  to  the  gloom 


366 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


I  felt ;  and  neither  in  my  heart  within,  nor 
in   the   world  without,  could   I   find  one 
solitary  consolation. 
At  first  I  dreaded   lest  ray  companions 

should  address  nie — a  single  question  would 
have  w  rang  my  very  soul — but  happily  t  hey 
maintained  a  rigid  silence,  nor  did  they 
even  speak  to  each  other  during  the  entire 
journey.  At  noon  we  halted  at  a  small 
roadside  cabaret,  where  refreshments  were 
provided,  and  relays  of  horses  in  waiting, 
and  again  set  out  on  our  way.  The  day 
was  declining  when  we  reached  the  Bois  de 
Boulogne,  and  entered  the  long  avenue  that 
leads  to  the  Barriere  de  1'Etoile.  The  heavy 
wheels  moved  noiselessly  over  the  even  turf  ; 
and,  save  the  jingle  of  the  troopers'  equip- 
ments, all  was  hushed.  For  above  an  hour 
we  had  proceeded  thus,  when  a  loud  shout 
in  front,  followed  by  a  pistol-shot,  and  then 
three  or  four  others  quickly  after  it,  halted 
the  party  ;  and  I  could  mark  through  the 
uncertain  light  the  mounted  figures  dash- 
ing wildly  here  and  there,  and  jilunging 
into  the  thickest  of  the  wood. 

"Look  to  the  prisoners,"  cried  an  officer, 
as  he  galloped  down  the  line  ;  and,  at  the 
word,  every  man  seized  his  carbine,  and 
held  himself  on  the  alert.  Meanwhile  the 
whole  cavalcade  was  halted,  and  I  could  see 
that  something  of  consequence  had  occurred 
in  front,  though  of  what  nature  I  could  not 
even  guess.  At  last  a  sergeant  of  the  gen- 
darmes rode  up  to  our  side  splashed  and 
heated. 

"  Has  he  escaped  ?"  cried  one  of  the  men 
beside  me. 

"Yes!"  said  he,  with  an  oath,  "the 
brigand  has  got  away,  though  how  he  cut 
the  cords  on  his  wrists,  or  by  what  means 
he  sprang  from  the  cliarrette  to  the  road, 
the  devil  must  answer.  Ha  !  there  they 
are  firing  away  after  him.  The  only  use  of 
their  powder  is  to  show  the  fellow  where 
they  are." 

"  I  would  not  change  places  with  our 
captain  this  evening,"  cried  one  of  the  gen- 
darmerie. "Returning  to  Paris  without 
the  red  beard—" 

"  Ma  foi,  you're  not  wrong  there.  It 
will  be  a  heavy  reckoning  for  him  with  dark 
Savary  ;  and  as  to  taking  a  Breton  in  a 
wood — " 

The  word  to  march  interrupted  the  col- 
loquy, and  again  we  moved  forward. 

By  some  strange  sympathy  I  cannot  ac- 
count for,  I  felt  glad  that  the  chief  had 
made  his  escape.  The  gallantry  of  his 
defense,  the  implicit  obedience  yielded  him 
by  the  others,  had  succeeded  in  establishing 
an  interest  for  him  in  my  mind  ;  and  the 
very  last  act  of  daring  courage  by  which  he 


effected  his  liberty,  increased  the  feeling. 
By  what  an  easy  transition,  too,  do  we 
come  to  feel  for  those  whose  late  has  any 
similarity  with  our  own.  The  very  .circum- 
stance oi  common  misfortune  is  a  binding 
link  ;  and  thus  1  was  not  without  an  anx- 
ious hope  that  the  chief,  might  succeed  in 
his  escape,  though,  had  1  known  his  in- 
trigue or  his  intentions,  such  interest  had 
scarcely  found  a  place  in  my  heart. 

Such  reflections  as  these  led  me  to  think- 
how-  great  must  he  the  charm  to  the  human 
mind  of  overcoming  difficulty  or  confront- 
ing danger,  when  even  for  those  of  whom 
we  know  nothing  we  can  feel,  and  feel 
warmly,  when  they  stand  before  us  in  such 
a  light  as  this.  Heroism  and  bravery  ap- 
peal to  every  nature  :  and  bad  must  lie  the 
cause  m  which  they  are  exerted,  before 
we  can  venture  to  think  ill  of  those  who 
possess  them. 

The  lamps  were  beginning  to  be  lighted 
as  we  reached  the  Barriere,  and  halted  to 
permit  the  officer  of  the  party  to  make  his 
report  of  who  we  were.  The  formality 
soon  finished,  we  defiled  along  the  Boule- 
vard, followed  by  a  croAvd  that,  increasing 
each  moment,  at  last  occupied  the  entire 
road,  and  made  our  progress  slow  and  dif- 
ficult. While  the  curiosity  of  the  people 
to  catch  sight  of  the  prisoners  demanded 
all  the  vigilance  of  the  guards  to  prevent 
it,  a  sad  and  most  appalling  stillness  per- 
vaded the  whole  multitude,  and  I  could 
hear  a  murmur  as  they  went,  that  it  was 
Generals  Moreau  and  Pichegru  who  were 
taken.  At  length  we  halted,  and  I  could 
see  that  the  foremost  charretis  was  enter- 
ing a  low  archway,  over  which  a  massive 
portcullis  hung.  The  gloomy  shadow  of 
a  dark,  vast  mass,  that  rose  against  the  inky 
sky,  lowered  above  the  wall,  and,  somehow, 
seemed  to  me  as  if  well  known. 

"  This  is  the  '  Temple  ?  '  "  said  I  to  the 
gendarme  on  my  right. 

A  nod  Avas  tlie  reply,  and  a  half-expres- 
sive look  that  seemed  to  say,  "  In  that  word 
you  have  said  your  destiny.*' 

About  two  years  previous  to  the  time  I 
now  speak  of,  I  remember  one  evening, 
when  returning  from  a  solitary  walk  along 
the  Boulevard,  stopping  in  front  of  a  tall 
and  weather-beaten  tower,  the  walls  black 
with  age,  and  pierced  here  and  there  with 
narrow  windows,  across  which  strong  iron 
stanchions  ran  transversely.  A  gloomy 
fosse,  crossed  by  a  narrow  drawbridge, 
surrounded  the  external  wall  of  this  dreary 
building,  which  needed  no  superstition  to 
invest  it  with  a  character  of  crime  and  mis- 
fortune. This  was  the  Temple  ;  the  an- 
cient castle  of  the  knigb*s  whose  cruelties 


TOM    BURKE  OF'  "OURS." 


307 


were  written  in  the  dark  oubliettes  and  the 
noisome  dungeons  of  that  dread  abode. 
A  terrace  ran  along  the  tower  on  three 
sides.  There,  for  hours  long,  walked  in 
sadness  and  in  sorrow  the  lasi  of  Prance's 
kings,  Louis  X.VL,  his  childrenat  his  side. 
In  that  dark  turret  the  Dauphin  su 
death.  At  the  low  casement  yonder,  Mad- 
ame Royale  sat  hour  by  hour,  the  stone  on 
which  she  leaned  wet  with  her1 
The  place  was  one  of  gloomy  and  sinister 
repute  :  the  neighboring]  spoke  of  the  heavy 
roll  of  carriages  that  passed  the  drawbridge 
at  the  dead  of  night,  of  strange  sound-;  and 
cries,  of  secret  executions,  and  even  of  tor- 
tures that  were  inflicted  there.  Of 
dreadful  missions  a  corps  called  the  "  Gen- 
darmes d'elite"  were  vulgarly  supposed  the 
chosen  executors,  and  their  savage  looks 
and  repulsive  exterior  gave  credibility  to 
the  surmise,  while  some  affirmed  that  the 
Mameluke  Guard  the  Consul  had  brought 
with  him  from  Egypt  had  no  other  func- 
tion than  the  murder  of  the  prisoners  con- 
fined there. 

Little  thought  I  then,  that  in  a  few  brief 
months  I  should  pass  beneath  that  black 
portcullis,  a  prisoner.  Little  did  I  antici- 
pate, as  I  wended  my  homeward  way,  my 
heart  heavy  and  my  step  slow,  that  the  day 
was  to  come  when,  in  my  own  person,  I 
was  to  feel  the  sorrows  over  which  I' then 
wept  for  others. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


This  was  the  second  morning  of  my  life 
which  opened  in  the  narrow  cell  of  a  pris- 
on ;  and  when  I  awoke  and  looked  upon 
the  bare,  bleak  walls,  the  barred  window, 
the  strongly  bolted  door,  I  thought  of  the 
time  when,  as  a  boy,  I  slept  within  the 
walls  of  Newgate.  The  same  sad  sounds 
were  now  about  me  ;  the  measured  tread  of 
sentinels  ;  the  tramp  of  patrols  ;  the  cav- 
ernous clank  of  door-closing,  and  the  grat- 
ing noise  of  locking  and  unlocking  heavy 
gates,  and  then  that  dreary  silence,  more 
depressing  than  all,  how  they  came  back 
upon  me  now,  seeming  to  wipe  out  all 
space,  and  bring  me  to  the  hours  of  my 
boyhood's  trials.  Yet  what  were  they  to 
this  ? — what  were  the  dangers  I  then'  in- 
curred to  the  inevitable  ruin  now  before 
me  ?  True,  I  knew  neither  the  conspira- 
tors nor  their  crime  ;  but  who  would  be- 
lieve it  ?  How  came  I  among  them  ?  Dare 
I  tell  it,  and  betray  her  whose  honor  was 


dearer  to  me  than  my  life  ?  Yet  it  was 
hard  to  face  death  in  such  a  cause  ;  no  sense 
of  high  though  uneucces  I'nl  (hiring  to  sup- 
;  no  i  rongly-roused  passion  to  warm 
my  blood,  and  t<  ach  in"  bravi  lure 

a  tarnished  name.  Disgrace  and  dishonor 
were  all  my  portion,  in  that  land,  too, 
where  I  once  hoped  to  win  fame  and 
and  make  for  mj  If  a  reputation  amo 
the  first  and  greatest.  The  deep  roll  of  a 
i,  followed  by  the  harsh  turning  of 
keys  in  the  locks  along  the  corridor,  inter- 
rupted my  sad  musings  ;  and  the  next  min- 
ute my  door  was  unbolted,  and  an  official, 
dressed  in  the  uniform  of  the  prison,  pre- 
sented himself  before  me. 

"Ah  !  Monsieur,  awake  and  dressed  al- 
ready !  "  said  he,  in  a  gay  and  smiling  tone, 
for  which  the  place  had  not  prepared  me. 
"At  eight  we  breakfast  here;  at  nine 
you  are  free  to  promenade  in  the  garden  or 
on  the  terrace — at  least,  all  who  are  not  au 
secret ;  and  I  have  to  felicitate  Monsieur 
on  that  pleasure.'' 

"How,  then  ;  I  am  not  a  prisoner  ?  " 

"  Yes,  parbleu  !  you  are  a  prisoner,  but 
not  under  such  heavy  imputation  as  to  be 
confined  apart.  All  in  this  quarter  enjoy 
a  fair  share  of  liberty  :  live  together,  walk, 
chat,  read  the  papers,  and  have  an  easy 
time  of  it  ;  but  you  shall  judge  for  your- 
self.    Come  along  with  me." 

In  a  strange  state  of  mingled  hope  and 
fear  I  followed  the  jailer  along  the  corri- 
dor, and  across  a  paved  court-yard  into  a 
low  hall,  where  basins  and  other  requisites 
for  a  prison-toilet  were  arranged  around 
the  walls.  Passing  through  this,  we 
ascended  a  narrow  stair,  and  finally  entered 
a  large,  well-lighted  room,  along  which  ;■„ 
table,  plentifully  but  plainly  provided, 
extended  the  entire  length.  The  apart- 
ment was  crowded  with  persons  of  every 
age,  and  apparently  every  condition,  all 
conversing  noisily  and  eagerly  together, 
and  evidencing  as  little  seeming  restraint 
as  though  within  the  walls  of  a  cafe. 

Seated  at  a  table,  I  could  not  help  feel- 
ing amused  at  the  strange  medley  of  rank 
and  country  about  me.  Here  were  old 
mil  Hair  es,  with  bushy  beards  and  mous- 
taches, side  by  side  with  ruddy-faced  peas- 
ants, whose  long,  yellow  locks  bespoke 
them  of  Norman  blood  ;  hard,  weather- 
beaten  sailors  from  the  coast  of  Bretagne, 
talking  familiarly  with  venerable  seigneurs 
in  all  the  pomp  of  powder  and  a  queue  ; 
priests  with  shaven  crowns  ;  young  fellows, 
whose  easy  looks  of  unabashed  effrontery 
betrayed  the  careless  Parisian  ;  all  were 
mingled  up  together,  and  yet  not  one 
among  the  number  did  I  see  whose  appear- 


308 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


ance  denoted  sorrow  for  his  condition  or 
anxiety  for  his  fate. 

The  various  circumstances  of  their 
imprisonment,  the  imputation  they  lay 
under,  the  acts  of  which  they  were 
accused,  formed  the  topics  of  conversation 
in  common  with  the  gossip  of  the  town, 
the  news  of  the  theatres,  and  the  move- 
ments in  political  life.  Never  was  there  a 
society  with  less  restraint :  each  man  knew 
his  neighbor's  history  too  well  to  make 
concealment  of  any  value,  and  frankness 
seemed  the  order  of  the  day.  While  I  was 
initiating  myself  into  so  much  of  the 
habit  of  the  place,  a  large,  flat,  florid  per- 
sonage, who  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table, 
called  out  to  me  for  my  name. 

"  The  governor  desires  to  have  your 
name  and  rank  for  his  list,"  said  my  neigh- 
bor at  the  right  hand. 

Having  given  the  required  information, 
I  could  not  help  expressing  my  surprise 
how,  in  the  presence  of  the  governor  of  the 
prison,  they  ventured  to  speak  so  freely. 

"  Ha,"  said  the  person  I  addressed,  "  he 
is  not  the  governor  of  the  Temple ;  that's 
merely  a  title  we  have  given  him  among 
ourselves.  The  office  is  held  always  by  the 
oldest  detenu.  Now,  he  has  been  here  ten 
months,  and  succeeded  to  the  throne  about 
a  fortnight  since.  The  abbe  yonder,  with 
the  silk  scarf  round  his  waist,  will  be  his 
successor  in  a  few  days." 

"Indeed  !  Then  he  will  be  at  liberty  so 
soon.  I  thought  he  seemed  in  excellent 
spirits. 

"Not  much,  perhaps,  on  that  score," 
replied  he.  "His  sentence  is  hard  labor 
.for  life  at  the  Bagne  de  Toulon." 

I  started  back  with  horror,  and  could 
not  utter  a  word. 

"The  abbe,"  continued  my  informant, 
"  would  be  right  happy  to  take  his  sentence. 
But  the  governor  is  speaking  to  you." 

"  Monsieur  le  sous-lieutenant,"  said  the 
governor,  in  a  deep,  solemn  accent,  "  I 
have  the  honor  to  salute  you,  and  bid  you 
welcome  to  the  Temple,  in  the  name  of 
my  respectable  and  valued  friends  here 
about  me.  We  rejoice  to  possess  one  of  your 
cloth  amongst  us.  The  last  was,  if  I 
remember  aright,  the  Captain  da  Lorme, 
who  boasted  he  could  hit  the  Consul  at 
sixty  paces  with  a  pistol-bullet." 

"Pardon,  governor,"  said  a  handsome 
man  in  a  braided  frock  ;  "  we  had  Ducaisne 
since." 

"So  we  had,  commandant,"  said  the 
Governor,  bowing  politely,  "and  a  very 
pleasant  fellow  he  was  ;  but  he  only  stopped 
one  night  here." 

"A  single  night,  I  remember  it  well," 


grunted  out  a  thick-lipped,  rosy-faced 
Mill.'  fellow,  near  the  bottom  of  (he  table. 
"You'll  meet  him  soon,  governor;  he's  at 
Toulon.     Pray  present  my  respects — " 

"A  line  !  a  fine  !"  shouted  out  a  dozen 
voices  in  a  breath. 

"I  deny  it,  I  deny  it,"  replied  the  rosy- 
faced  man,  rising  from  his  chair.  "I  appeal 
to  the  governor  if  1  am  not  innocent.  I 
ask  him  if  there  were  anything  which 
could  possibly  offend  his  feelings  in  my 
allusion  to  Toulon,  whither,  for  the  benefit 
of  his  precious  health,  he  is  about  to 
repair  ?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  Governor,  solemnly, 
you  are  fined  three  francs.  I  always  pre- 
ferred Brest ;  Toulon  is  not  to  my  taste." 

"  Pay  !  pay  !  "  cried  out  the  others  ; 
while  a  pewter  dish,  on  which  some  twenty 
pieces  of  money  were  lying,  was  passed 
down  the  table. 

"  And  to  resume,"  said  the  Governor, 
turning  toward  me,  "  the  secretary  will 
wait  on  you  after  breakfast  to  receive  the 
fees  of  initiation,  and  such  information  as 
you  desire  to  afford  him  for  your  coming 
amongst  us,  both  being  perfectly  discre- 
tionary with  you.  He  who  desires  the 
privilege  of  our  amicable  reunion  soon 
learns  the  conditions  on  which  to  obtain  it. 
The  enjoyments  of  our  existence  here  are 
cheap  at  any  price.  Le  Pere  d'Oligny, 
yonder,  will  tell  you  life  is  short — very  few 
here  are  likely  to  dispute  the  assertion — 
and  perhaps  the  Abbe  Thomas  may  give 
you  a  strong  hint  how  to  make  the  best  of 
'it." 

' '  ParbJeu,  governor !  you  forget  the 
abbe  left  us  this  morning." 

"  True,  true — how  my  memory  is  failing 
me — the  dear  abbe  did  leave  us,  sure 
enough." 

"  Where  for  ?  "  said  I,  in  a  whisper. 

"La  Plaine  de  Grenelle,"  said  the  per- 
son beside  me,  in  a  low  tone.  "He  was 
guillotined  at  five  o'clock." 

A  sick  shudder  ran  through  me  ;  and, 
though  the  governor  continued  his  oration, 
I  heard  not  a  word  he  spoke,  nor  could  I 
arouse  myself  from  the  stupor,  until  the 
cheers  of  the  party,  at  the  conclusion  of 
the  harangue,  awoke  me. 

"  The  morning  looks  fine  enough  for  a 
walk,"  said  the  man  beside  me.  "What 
say  you  to  the  gardens  ?  " 

I  followed  him  without  speaking  across 
the  court  and  down  a  flight  of  stone  steps 
into  a  large  open  space,  planted  tastefully 
with  trees,  and  adorned  by  a  beautiful  foun- 
tain. Various  walks  and  alleys  traversed 
the  garden  in  every  direction,  along  which 
parties   were    to    be    seen   walking — some 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


309 


laughing,  some  reading  aloud  I  lie  morning 
papers — but  all  engaged,  and,  to  all  smil- 
ing, pleasantly.  Yet  did  their  reckless  in- 
difference to  life,  their  horrible  careless- 
ness of  each  other's  fate,  seem  to  me  far 
more  dreadful  than  any  expression  of  sor- 
row, however  painful;  and  1  shrank  from 
them  as  though  the  contamination  of  their 
society  might  impart  that  terrible  state  of 
unfeeling  apathy  they  were  given  up  to. 
Even  guilt  itself  had  seemed  less  repulsive 
than  this  shocking  and  unn  itural  reckless- 
ness. Pondering  thus,  I  hurried  from  the 
crowded  path,  and  sought  a  lonely,  unfre- 
quented walk  which  led  along  the  wall  of 
the  garden.  I  had  not  proceeded  far,  when 
the  low  but  solemn  notes  of  church  music 
struck  on  my  ear.  I  hastened  forward,  and 
soon  perceived,  through  the  branches  of  a 
beech  hedge,  a  party  of  some  sixteen  or 
eighteen  persons  kneeling  on  the  grass, 
their  hands  lifted  as  if  in  prayer,  while  they 
joined  in  a  psalm  tune— one  of  those  simple 
but  touching  airs  which  the  peasantry  of 
the  south  are  so  attached  to.  Their  oval 
faces  bronzed  with  the  sun,  their  long, 
flowing  hair,  divided  on  the  head  and  fall- 
ing loose  on  either  shoulder,  their  dark 
eyes  and  long  lashes,  bespoke  them  all  from 
that  land  of  Bourbon  loyalty,  La  Vendee, 
even  had  not  their  yellow  jackets,  covered 
with  buttons  along  the  sleeves,  and  their 
loose  hose,  evinced  their  nationality.  Many 
of  the  countenances  I  now  remembered,  to 
have  seen  the  preceding  night ;  but  some 
were  careworn  and  emaciated,  as  if  from 
long  imprisonment. 

I  cannot  tell  how  the  simple  piety  of 
these  poor  peasants  touched  me,  contrasted, 
too,  with  the  horrible  indifference  of  the 
others.  As  I  approached  them,  I  was  re- 
cognized; and,  whether  supposing  that  I 
was  a  well-wisher  to  their  cause,  or  attract- 
ed merely  by  the  tie  of  common  misfortune, 
they  saluted  me  respectfully,  and  seemed 
glad  to  see  me.  While  two  or  three  of  those 
I  had  seen  before  moved  forward  to  speak 
to  me,  I  remarked  that  a  low,  swarthy  man, 
with  a  scar  across  his  upper  lip,  examined 
me  with  marked  attention,  and  then  whis- 
pered something  to  the  rest.  At  first  he 
seemed  to  pay  little  respect  to  whatever 
they  said — an  incredulous  shake  of  the 
head,  or  an  impatient  motion  of  the  hand, 
replying  to  their  observations.  Gradually, 
however,  he  relaxed  in  this,  and  I  could  see 
that  his  stern  features  assumed  a  look  of 
kinder  meaning. 

"So,   friend,"  said  he,  holding  out  his 

tanned  and  powerful  hand  toward  me,  "it 

was  thou  saved  our  chief  from  being  snared 

like  a  wolf  in  a  trap.     Le  bon  Dieu  will  re- 

vol.  i. — 24 


member  the  service  hereafter  ;  and  the  good 
king  will   not  forget,  thee,  if  the  tim 
comes  tor  his  better  fortune." 

"  You  must  not  thank  me,"  said  I,  smil- 
ing ;  "theservice  I  rendered  was  one  in- 
stigated by  friendship  only.  I  know  not 
your  plans;  1  never  knew  them.  The 
epaulei  te  I  wear  1  never  wrae  fal  ■■■  to." 

A  murmur  of  dissatisfaction  ran 
the  party,  and  I  could  mark  that  in  the 
words  they  interchanged  feelings  of  sur- 
prise were  mingled  with  displeasure.  At 
last,  the  short  man.  commanding  silence 
with  a  slight  motion  of  the  hand,  said,  "  1 
am  sorry  for  it;  your  courage  merited  a 
better  cause  ;  however,  the  avowal  was  at 
least  an  honest  one  ;  and  now  tell  us,  why 
came  you  here  ?  " 

"For  the  very  reason  I've  mentioned. 
My  presence  at  the  chateau  last  night,  and 
my  discovery  during  the  attack,  were 
enough  to  impute  guilt.  How  can  I  clear 
myself,  without  criminating  those  I  would 
not  name  ?  " 

"  That  matters  but  little.  Doubtless,  you 
have  powerful  friends — rich  ones,  perhaps, 
and  in  office  ;  they  will  bear  you  harm- 
less.'' 

"Alas  !  you  are  wrong.  I  have  not  in 
all  the  length  and  breadth  of  France  one 
who,  if  a  word  would  save  me  from  the 
scaffold,  would  care  to  speak  it.  I  am  a 
stranger  and  an  alien." 

"  Ha  !  "  said  a  fair-haired,  handsome 
youth,  starting  from  the  grass  where  he 
had  been  sitting,  "Avhat  would  I  not  give 
now  your  lot  was  mine.  They'd  not  make 
my  heart  tremble  if  I  could  forget  the  cabin 
I  was  born  in." 

"  Hush  !  Philippe,"  said  the  other,  "  the 
weapon  is  not  in  their  armory  to  make  a 
Vendean  tremble — But,  hark  !  there  is  the 
drum  for  the  inspection.  You  must  pre- 
sent yourself  each  day  at  noon,  at  the  low 
postern,  yonder,  and  write  your  name  :  and 
mark  me,  before  we  part,  it  cannot  serve 
us,  it  may  ruin  you,  if  we  are  seen  to  speak 
together."  Trust  no  one  here.  Those 
whom  you  see  yonder  are  half  of  them 
moutons." 

"How  ?"  said  I,  not  understanding  the 
phrase. 

"Ay,  it  was  a  prison  word  I  used,"  re- 
sumed  he.      "  I    would    say    they  are  but 
spies  of  the  police,  who,  as  if  confined  for 
their  offenses,  are  only  here  to  obtain  con- 
i  fessions  from  unguarded,  unsuspecting pris- 
!  oners.     Their  frankness  and   sincerity  are 
snares  that  have  led  many  to  the  guillotine; 
|  beware  of  them.     You  dare  not  carry  your 
!  glass  to  your  lip,  but  the  murmured  toast 
might  be  your   condemnation.     Adieu  ! " 


370 


CHARLES  LEVERS    WORKS. 


?-vi:l  he ;  and  as  lie  spoke  he  turned  away 
and  left  the  place,  followed  by  the  rest. 

The  disgust  I  felt  at  first  for  the  others 
was  certainly  not  lessened  by  learning  that 
their  guilt  was  stained  by  treachery  the 
blackest  that  can  disgrace  humanity  ;  and 
now,  as  I  walked  among  them,  it  was  with 
a  sense  of  shrinking  horror  I  recoiled  from 
the  very  touch  of  the  wret<  h'es,  whose  smiles 
were  but  lures  to  the  scaffold. 

"Ha  !  our  lost  and  strayed  friend,"  said 
one,  as  I  appeared,  "come  hither,  and 
make  a  clean  breast  of  it.  What  amiable 
weaknesses  have  introduced  you  to  the 
Temple  ?  " 

"In  truth,"  said  I,  endeavoring  to  con- 
ceal my  knowledge  of  my  acquaintances' 
real  character,  "I  cannot  even  guess,  nor 
do  I  believe  that  any  one  else  is  wiser  than 
myself." 

"Parblcul  young  gentleman,'''  said  the 
Abbe,  as  he  spied  me  impertinently  through 
his  glass,  "you  are  excessively  old-fashion- 
ed for  your  years.  Don't  you  know  that 
spotless  innocence  went  out  with  the  Bour- 
bons ?  Every  one  since  that  dies  in  the. 
glorious  assertion  of  his  peculiar  wicked- 
ness, with  certain  extenuating  circumstan- 
ces, which  he  calls  human  nature." 

"And  now.  then,"  resumed  the  first 
speaker,  "for  your  mishap — what  was  it  ?  " 

"  I  should  on]y  deceive  you  were  I  to 
give  any  other  answer  than  my  first.  Mere 
suspicion  there  may  be  against  me — there 
can  be  no  more." 

"'  Well,  well,  let  us  have  the  suspicions. 
The  Moniteur  is  late  this  mormg,  and  we 
have  nothing  to  amuse  us." 

"Who  are  you  ?"  cried  another,  a  tall, 
insolent-looking  fellow,  with  a  dark  mous- 
tache. "  That's  the  first  question.  I've 
seen  nmouton  m  a  hussar  dress  before  now." 

"  I  am  too  late  a  resident  here,"  answer- 
ed I,  "  to  guess  how  far  insolence  goes  un- 
punished ,  but  if  1  were  outside  these  walls, 
and  you  also,  I'd  teach  you  a  lesson  you 
have  yet  to  learn,  sir." 

"  Par  bleu  !  "  said  one  of  the  former 
speakers,  "  Jacques,  he  has  you  there, 
though  it  was  no  great  sharpness  to  see 
you  were  a  blanc-bee." 

The  tall  fellow  moved  away,  muttering 
to  himself,  as  a  hearty  laugh  broke  forth 
among  the  rest. 

"And  now,"  said  the  Abbe,  with  a  sim- 
per, "pardon  the  liberty;  but  have  you 
had  any  trifling  inducement  for  coming  to 
pass  a  few  days  here  ?  Were  you  making 
love  to  Madame  la  Oonsulesse  ?  or  did  you 
laugh  at  General  Bonaparte's  grand  din- 
ners ?  or  have  you  been  learn  in 
lish  grammar  ?  or  wdiat  is  it  ?  " 


learning  the  En<?- 


I  shook  my  head,  and  was  silent. 

"Come,  Come,  be  frank  with  us;  un- 
blemished virtue  fares  very  ill  here.  There 
was  a  gentleman  lost  his  head  this  morn- 
ing, who  never  did  anything  all  his  life 
other  than  keep  the  post-ofnpe  atTarbes; 
but  somehow  he  happened  to  let  a  letter 
pass  into  the  bag  addressed  to  an  elderly 
gentleman  in  England,  called  (he  Count 
d'Artois,  not  knowing  that  the  Count's  let- 
ters are  always  '  to  the  care  of  Citizen  Bo- 
naparte.' Well,  they  shortened  him  by  the 
neck  for  it.  Cruel  !  you  will  say ;  but  so 
much  for  innocence." 

"  For  the  last  time  then,  gentlemen,  I 
must  express  my  sincere  sorrow  that  I  have 
neither  murder,  treason,  nor  any  other  in- 
famy on  my  conscience,  which  might  qual- 
ify me  for  the  distinguished  honor  of  asso- 
ciating with  you.  Such  being  the  case, 
and  my  sense  of  my  deficiency  being  so 
great,  you  will,  I'm  sure,  pardon  me,  if  I 
do  not  obtrude  on  society  of  which  1  am 
unworthy,  and  which  I  have  now  the  hon- 
or to  Avish  a  good-day  to."  With  this,  and 
a  formal  bow,  returned  equally  politely  by 
the  rest,  I  moved  on,  and  entered  the 
tower. 

Somber  and  sad  as  were  my  own  reflec- 
tions, yet  did  I  prefer  their  company  to 
that  of  my  fellow-prisoners,  for  whom  al- 
ready I  began  to  conceive  a  perfect  feeling 
of  abhorrence. 

.Revolting,  indeed,  was  the  indifference 
to  fame,  honor,  and  even  life,  which  I  al- 
ready witnessed  among  them  ;  but  what 
was  it  compared  with  the  deliberate  treach- 
ery of  men  who  could  wait  for  the  hour  when 
the  heart,  overflowing  with  sorrow,  opened 
itself  for  consolation  and  comfort,  and 
then  search  its  every  recess  for  proofs  of 
guilt  that  should  bring  the  mourner  to 
the  scaffold  ? 

How  any  government  could  need — how 
they  could  tolerate  such  assassins  as  these, 
I  could  not  conceive.  And  was  this  his 
doing — were  these  his  minions,  whose  high- 
souled  chivalry  had  been  my  worship  and 
my  idolatry'?  No,  no  ;  I'll  not  believe  it. 
Bonaparte  knows  not  the  dark  and  terrible 
secrets  of  these  gloomy  walls.  The  hero  of 
Arcole,  the  conqueror  of  Italy,  wots  not  of 
the  frightful  tyranny  of  those  dungeons  : 
did  he  but  know,  them,  what  a  destiny 
would  wait  on  those  who  thus  stain  with 
crime  and  treachery  the  fame  of  that 
"Belle  France"  he  made  so  great. 

Oh  !  that  in  the  hour  of  my  accusation — 
in  the  very  last  of  my  life,  were  it  on  the 
step  of  the  guillotine,  I  could  but  speak 
with  words  to  reach  him,  and  say,  how 
glory  like  his  must  be  tarnished,  if  such 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS. 


371 


deeds  went  on  unpunished;  that  while 
thousands  and  thousands  were  welcoming 
his  path  with  cries  of  wild  enthusiasm  and 
joy,  in  the  cold  cells  of  the  Temple  there 
were  breaking  hearts,  whose  sorrow-wrung 
confessions  were  registered — whose  prayers 
were  canvassed  for  evidences  of  desires  that 
might  be  converted  into  treason,  lie  could 
have  no  sympathy  with  men  like  these  : 
not  such  the  brave  who  followed  him  at 
Lodi ;  not  kindred  souls  were  they  who 
died  for  him  at  Marengo.  Alas  !  alas  !  how 
might  men  read  of  him  hereafter,  if  by 
such  acts  the  splendor  of  his  greatness  was 
to  suffer  stain.  While  thoughts  like  these 
filled  my  mind,  and  in  the  excitement  of 
awakened  indignation  I  trod  my  little  cell 
backward  and  forward,  the  jailer  entered, 
and,  having  locked  the  door  behind  him, 
approached  me. 

"  You  are  the  Sous-Lieutenant  Burke  :  is 
it  not  so  ?  Well,  I  have  a  letter  for  you  ; 
I  promised  to  deliver  it  on  one  condition 
only — which  is,  that  when  read,  you  shall 
tear  it  in  pieces. .  Were  it  known  that  I 
did  this,  my  head  would  roll  in  the  Plaine 
de  Grenelle  before  daybreak  to-morrow.  I 
also  promised  to  put  you  on  your  guard  : 
speak  to  few  here ;  confide  in  none ;  and 
now  here  is  your  letter." 

I  opened  the  billet  hastily,  and  read  the 
few  lines  it  Contained,  which  evidently  were 
written  in  a  feigned  hand  :  "Your  life  is 
in  danger — any  delay  may  be  your  ruin — 
address  the  minister  at  once  as  to  the  cause 
of  your  detention,  and  for  the  charges 
under  which  you  are  committed  ;  demand 
permission  to  consult  an  advocate,  and, 
when  demanded,  it  can't  be  refused.  Write 
to  Monsieur  Baillot,  of  4  Eue  Chantereine, 
in  whom  you  may  trust  implicitly,  and  who 
has  already  instructions  for  your  defense. 
Accept  the  inclosed,  and  believe  in  the 
faithful  attachment  of  a  sincere  friend." 
A  billet  de  banque  for  three  thousand  francs 
was  folded  in  the  note,  and  fell  to  the 
ground  as  I  read  it. 

"  Parbleu  !  I'll  not  ask  you  to  tear  this, 
though,"  said  the  jailer,  as  ne  handed  it  to 
me ;  and  now  let  me  see  you  destroy  the 
other. " 

I  read  and  re-read  the  few  lines  over  and 
over,  some  new  meaning  striking  me  at  each 
word,  while  I  asked  myself  from  whom  it 
could  have  come.  Was  it  De  Beauvais  ?  or 
dare  I  hope  it  was  one  dearest  to  me  of  all 
the  world  ?  Who  then,  in  the  saddest  hour 
of  my  existence  could  step  between  me 
and  my  sorrow,-  and  leave  hope  as  my 
companion  in  the  dreary  solitude  of  a 
prison. 

"Again,    I    say,   be   quick,"   cried  the 


jailer  :  "  my  being  here  so  long  may  be  re- 
marked.    Tcai-  it,  ;il  once." 

lie  followed  with  .in  eager  eye  eyery 
morsel  of  paper  as  it  fell  from  my  hand,  and 
only  seemed  al  ease  as  the  las!  dropped  to 
the  ground  ;  and  then,  withoul  Bpeaking  a 
word,  unlocked  the  door  and  withdrew. 

The  shipwrecked  Bailor,  clinging  to  jome 
wave-tossed  raft,  and  watching  with  blood- 
shot eye  the  falling  day,  where  no  friendly 
sail  has  once  appeared,  and  ai  last,  ase 
hope  dies  out  one  by  one  within  him.  he 
hears  a  cheer  break  through  the  plashing 
of  the  sea,  calling  on  him  to  live,  may  feel 
something  like  whatweremj  sensations, 
once  more  alone  in  my  cell  I  thoughl  of 
the  friendly  voice  that  could  arouse  me 
from  my  cold  despair,  and  bid  me  hope 
again. 

What  a  change  came  over  the  world  to 
my  eyes  :  the  very  cell  itself  no  Ion 
seemed  dark  and  dreary  ;  the  faint  sunligl it 
that  fell  through  the  narrow  window  seemed 
soft  and  mellow  ;  the  voices  I  heard  with- 
out struck  me  not  as  dissonant  and  harsh  ; 
the  reckless  gayety  I  shuddered  at,  the  dark 
treachery  I  abhorred,  I  could  now  com- 
passionate the  one,  and  openly  despise  the 
other  ;  and  it  was  with  that  stout  deter- 
mination at  my  heart  that  I  sallied  forth 
into  the  garden  where  still  the  others  lin- 
gered, waiting  for  the  drum  that  summoned 
them  to  dinner. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THE    "CHOUANS." 

When"  night  came,  and  all  was  silent  in 
the  prison,  I  sat  down  to  write  my  letter  to 
the  minister.  I  knew  enough  of  such  mat- 
ters to  be  aware  that  brevity  is  the  great 
requisite  ;  and,  therefore,  without  any  at- 
tempt to  anticipate  my  accusation  by  a  de- 
fense of  my  motives,  I  simply,  but  respect- 
fully, demanded  the  charges  alleged  against 
me,  and  prayed  for  the  earliest  and  most 
speedy  investigation  into  my  conduct.  Such 
Avere  the  instructions  of  my  unknown  friend, 
and,  as  I  proceeded  to  follow  them,  their 
meaning  at  once  became  apparent  to  me. 
Haste  was  recommended,  evidently  to  pre- 
vent such  explanations  and  inquiries  into 
my  conduct  as  more  time  might  afford. 
My  appearance  at  the  chateau  might  still 
be  a  mystery  to  them,  and  one  which  might 
remain  unfathomable,  if  any  plausible  reason  ■ 
were  put  forward.  And  what  more  could 
be  laid  to  my  charge  ?  True,  the  brevet  of 
colonel  found  on  my  person  :  but  this  I 
could  with  truth  allege  had  never  been  ao« 


'672 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


cepted  by  me.  They  would  scarcely  con- 
demn me  on  such  testimony,  unsuppoi  w-d 
by  any  direct  charge  ;  and  who  could  bring 
such  save  De  Beauvais  ?  Flimsy  and  weak 
as  such  pretexts  were,  yet  were  I  hey  enough 
in  my  then  frame  of  mind  to  support  my 
courage  and  nerve  my  heart  ;  but  more 
than  all  I  trusted  in  the  sincere  loyalty  I 
felt  for  the  cause  of  the  government  and  its 
great  chief — a  sentiment  which,  however 
difficult  to  prove,  gave  myself  that  inward 
sense  of  safety  which  only  can  flow  from 
strong  convictions  of  honesty.  "It  may 
so  happen,"  thought  I,  "that  circum- 
stances may  appear  against  me,  but  I  know 
and  feel  my  heart  is  true  and  firm,  and, 
even  at  the  worst,  such  a  consciousness  will 
enable  me  to  bear  whatever  may  be  my 
fortune." 

The  next  morning  my  altered  manner 
and  happier  look  excited  the  attention  of 
the  others,  who  by  various  endeavors  tried 
to  fathom  the  cause,  or  learn  any  par- 
ticulars of  my  fate  ;  but  in  vain,  for  already 
I  was  on  my  guard  against  even  a  chance 
expression,  and,  save  on  the  most  common- 
place topics,  held  no  intercourse  with  any. 
Far  from  being  offended  at  my  reserve,  they 
seemed  rather  to  have  conceived  a  species 
of  respect  for  one  whose  sec  res  v  imparted 
something  of  interest  to  him  ;  and  while 
they  tried,  by  the  chance  allusion  to  politi- 
cal events  and  characters,  to  sound  me,  1 
could  see  that  though  baffled,  they  by  no 
means  gave  up  the  battle. 

As  time  wore  on,  this  half  persecution 
died  away — each  day  brought  some  prisoner 
or  other  amongst  us,  or  "removed  some 
of  those  we  had  to  other  places  of  confine- 
ment, and  thus  I  became  forgotten  in  the 
interests  of  newer  events.  About  a  week 
after  my  entrance  we  were  walking  as  usual 
about  the  gardens,  when  a  rumor  ran,  chat 
a  prisoner  of  great  consequence  had  been 
arrested  the  preceding  night,  and  conveyed 
to  the  Temple  ;  and  various  surmises  were 
afloat  as  to  who  he  might  be,  or  whether 
he  should  be  cm  secret  or  at  large.  While 
the  point  was  eagerly  discussed,  a  low  door 
from  the  house  was  opened,  and  the  jailer 
appeared,  followed  by  a  large,  powerful 
man,  whom  in  one  glance  I  remembered  as 
the  chief  of  the  Vendean  party  at  the 
chateau,  and  the  same  who  effected  his 
escape  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne.  He  passed 
close  to  where  I  stood,  his  arm  folded  on 
his  breast — his  clear  blue  eye  bent  calmly 
on  me— yet  never  by  the  slightest  sign  did 
he  indicate  that  we  had  ever  met  before. 
I  divined  at  once  his  meaning,  and  felt 
grateful  for  what  I  guessed  might  be  a 
measure  necessary  to  my  safety. 


"I  tell  you,"  said  a  shriveled  old  fel- 
low, in  a  woni  dressing-gown  and  slippers, 
who  held  the  Moirilvur  of  that  day  in  his 
hand — "  I  tell  you  it  is  himself  ;  and  see, 
his  hand  is  wounded — though  he  does  his 
besf  to  conceal  the  bandage  in  his  bosom." 

"Well,  well — read  us  the  account: 
where  did  il  occur  ?  "  cried  two  or  three  in 
a  breath. 

The  old  man  seated  himself  on  a  bench, 
and,  haying  arranged  his  spectacles,  and 
unfolded  the  journal,  held  ont  his  hand  to 
proclaim  silence,  when  suddenly  a  wild 
cheer  broke  from  the  distant  part  of  the 
garden,  whither  the  newly-anived  prisoner 
had  turned  his  steps — a  second  louder  fol- 
lowed, in  which  the  cry  of  "Vive  le  Eoi  " 
could  be  distinctly  heard. 

"You  hear  them,"  said  the  old  man. 
"Was  I  right  now?  I  knew  it  must  be 
him." 

"  Strange  enough,  too,  he  should  not  be 
au  secret,'"  said  another.  "The  generals 
have  never  been  suffered  to  speak  to  any 
one  since  their  confinement.  But  read  on, 
let  us  hear  it." 

"  '  On  yesterday  morning,'  "  said  the  lit- 
tle man,  reading  aloud,  "'Picot,  the  ser- 
vant of  George,  was  arrested,  and  although 
every  endeavor  was  made  to  induce  him  to 
confess  where  his  master  was — " 

"Do  yon  know  the  meaning  of  that 
phrase,  Duchos  ?"  said  a  tall,  melancholy- 
looking  man,  with  a  bald  head — "that 
means  the  torture  ;  thumbscrews  and  flint 
vices  are  the  mode  once  more  ;  see  here." 
As  he  spoke  he  undid  a  silk  handkerchief 
that  was  wrapped  around  his  wrist,  and 
exhibited  a  hand  that  seemed  actually 
mashed  into  fragments — the  bones  were 
forced  in  many  places  through  the  flesh, 
which  hung  in  dark-colored  and  blood- 
stained pieces  about. 

"  I  would  shew  that  hand  at  the  tri- 
bunal/' muttered  an  old  soldier  in  a  faded 
bine  frock,  "I'd  hold  it  up  when  they'd 
ask  me  to  swear." 

"Your  head  would  only  fare  the  worse 
for  doing  so,"  said  the  Abbe.  "Bead  on, 
Monsieur  Duchos." 

"  Oh,  where  was  I  ? — Pardieu,  colonel, 
I  wish  you  would  cover  that  up  :  I  shall 
dream  of  that  terrible  thumb  all  night.. — 
Here  Ave  are — 'Though  nothing  conld  be 
learned  from  Picot,  it  was  ascertained  that 
the  brigand — ' " 

"Ha,  ha,"  said  a  fat  little  fellow  in  a 
blouse,  "  they  call  them  all  brigands — Mo- 
rean  is  a  brigand — Pichegru  is  a  brigand 
too." 

"  'That  the  brigand  had  passed  Monday 
night    near    Chaillot,    and    on    Tuesday, 


TO  XT  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


373 


toward  evening,  was  seen  at  Sainte-Gene- 
vieve,  where  it  was  suspected  he  slept 'on 
the  mountain  ;  on  Wednesday  the  police 
traced  him  to  the  cabriolet  stand  at  the  end 
of  the  Rue  de  Oonde,  where  ho  look  a  car- 
riage and  drove  toward  the  0d6on.' ' 

"  Probably  he  was  going  to  t  lie  spectacle. 
What  did  they  play  that  night  ?  "  said  the 
fat  man.  "'La  Mori  de  Barberous&eJ 
perhaps." 

The  other  read  on. — "  '  The  officer  cried 
out,  as  he  seized  the  bridle,  "Jevous  ar- 
rote  I "  when  George  leveled  a  pistol  and 
shot  him  through  the  forehead,  and  then 
springing  over  the  dead  body  dashed  down 
the  street.  The  butchers  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, who  knew  the  reward  offered  for  his 
apprehension,,  pursued  and  fell  upon  him 
with  their  hatchets  ;  a  hand-to-hand  en- 
counter followed,  in  which  the  brigand's 
wrist  was  nearly  severed  from  his  arm,  and 
thus  disabled  and  overpowered  he  was  se- 
cured and  conveyed  to  the  Temple.'  " 

"  And  who  is  this  man  ?  "  said  I  in  a 
whisper  to  the  tall  person  near  me. 

"  The  General  George  Oadoudal- — a  brave 
Breton,  and  a  faithful  follower  of  <  his 
king,"  replied  he  ;  "and  may  Heaven  have 
pity  on  him  now."  He  crossed  himself 
piously  as  he  spoke,  and  moved  slowly 
away. 

"  George  Oadoudal  !  "  repeated  I  to  my- 
self, "the  same  whose  description  figured 
on  every  wall  of  the  capital,  and  for  whose 
apprehension  immense  rewards  were  offer- 
ed ; "  and  Avith  an  inward  shudder  I 
thought  of  my  chance  intercourse  -with  the 
man — to  harbor  whom  was  death — the 
dreaded  chief  of  the  Chouans — the  daring 
Breton— of  whom  Paris  rung  with  stories. 
And  this  was  the  companion  of  Henri  de 
Beauvais.  Revolving  such  thoughts,  I 
strolled  along  unconsciously,  until  I  reach- 
ed the  place  where,  some  days  before,  I  had 
seen  the  Vendeans  engaged,  m  prayer.  The 
loud  tone  of  a  deep  voice  arrested  my  steps. 
I  stopped  and  listened.  It  was  George 
himself  who  spoke ;  he  stood,  drawn  up 
to  his  full  height,  in  the  midst  of  a  large 
circle  who  sat  around  on  the  grass. 
Though  his  language  was  a  patois  of  which 
I  was  ignorant,  I  could  catch  here  and 
there  some  indication  of  his  meaning,  as 
much  perhaps  from  his  gesture,  and 
the  look  of  those  .  he  addressed,  as 
from  the  words  themselves.  It  was  an  ex- 
hortation to  them  to  endure  with  fortitude 
the  lot  that  had  befallen  them — to  meet 
death  when  it  came  without  fear,  as  they 
could  do  so  without  dishonor — to  strength- 
en their  courage  by  looking  to  him,  who 
would   always   give  them  an  example   of 


what  they  should   be.     The  last   words  he 
spoke  were  in  a  plainer  dialect,  and  almost 
these     ••Throw    no  glance  on   the   past. 
We  are  where weare     we  are  where  God  in 
his   wisdom,   and    for   his    own  ends,   has 
placed  as.     It'  this  cause  b<    jnst,  our  mar- 
tyrdom   is  a    ble8Sed    one  ;    ij    it  he   not 
our  death    is  our  punishmenl  ;  and   ni 
forget   thai   yon  are  permitted  to  meet  it 
from    the  same   spol    where   our  glor 
monarch  wen!  to  meel  his  own." 

A  cry  of   Vive  le  Roil   half    stifled  by 
sobs  of  emotion,  broke  from  the  listen 
and  they  rose,  and  pressed  around  him. 

There  he  stood  in  the  midst,  while,  like 
children,  they  came  to  kiss  his  hand — to 
hear  him  speak  one  word — even  to  look  on 
him.  Their  swarthy  faces,  where  hardship 
and  suffering  had  left  many  a  deep  line 
and  furrow,  beamed  with  smiles  as  he 
turned  toward  them;  and  many  a  proud 
look  was  bent  on  the  rest  by  those  to  whom 
he  addressed  a  single  word.  One  I  could 
not  help  remarking  above  the  other 
slight,  pale,  and  handsome  youth,  whi 
almost  girlish  cheek  the  first  down  of 
youth  was  shading.  George  leaned  his 
arm  round  his  neck,  and  called  him  by  his 
name,  and  in  a  voice  almost  tremulous 
from  emotion.  "And  you,  Bouvet  de 
Lozier,  whose  infancy  wanted  nothing  of 
luxury  and  enjoyment — for  whom  all  thai 
wealth  and  affection  could  bestow  were  in 
abundance — how  do  you  bear  these  rugged 
reverses,  my  dear  boy  ?  " 

The  youth  looked  up  with  eyes  bathed 
in  tears  ;  the  hectic  spot  in  his  face  gave 
way  to  the  paleness  of  death,  and  his  lips 
moved  without  a  sound. 

"He  has  been  ill — the  count  has,"  said 
a  peasant,  in  a  low  voice. 

"Poor  fellow,"  said  George;  "he  was 
not  meant  for  trials  like  these  ;  the  cares  he 
used  to  bury  in  his  mother's  lap  met  other 
consolations  than  our  ruder  ones.  Look  up, 
Bouvet,  my  man,  and  remember  you  are  a 
man." 

The  youth  trembled  from  head  to  foot, 
and  looked  fearfully  around,  as  if  dreading 
something,  while  he  clutched  the  strong 
arm  beside  him,  as  though  for  protection. 

"  Courage,  boy — courage,"  said  George. 
"We  are  together  here — what  can  harm 
you?" 

Then  dropping  his  voice,  and  turning  to 
the  rest,  he  added  : 

"They  have  been  tampering  with  his 
reason — his  eye  betrays  a  wandering  intel- 
lect. Take  him  with  you,  Claude — he 
loves  you — and  do  not  leave  him  for  a 
moment." 

The   youth,  pressed   George's  fingers  to 


d74 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


his  pale  lips,  and,  with  his  head  bent  down 
and  listless  gait,  moved  slowly  away. 

As  I  wandered  from  the  spot,  my  heart 
was  lull  of  all  I  witnessed.  The  influence 
of  their  chief  had  surprised  me  on  the 
night  of  the  attack  on  the  chateau.  But 
how  much  more  wonderful  did  it  seem 
now,  when  confined  within  the  walls  of  a 
prison — the  only  exit  to  which  was  the 
path  that  led  to  the  guillotine.  Yet  was 
their  reliance  on  all  he  said  as  great,  as 
implicit  their  faith  in  him,  as  warm  their 
affection,  as  though  success  had  crowned 
each  effort  he  suggested,  and  that  fortune 
had  been  as  kind  as  she  had  proved  adverse 
to  his  enterprise. 

Such  were  the  Chouans  in  the  Temple. 
Life  had  presented  to  their  hardy  natures 
too  many  vicissitudes  to  make  them  quail 
beneath  the  horrors  of  a  prison— death 
they  had  confronted  in  many  shapes,  and 
they  feared  it  not  even  at  the  hands  of  the 
executioner.  Loyalty  to  the  exiled  family 
of  France  was  less  a  political  than  a  relig- 
ious feeling — one  inculcated  at  the  altar, 
and  carried  home  to  the  fireside  of  the 
cottage.  Devotion  to  their  king  was  a  part 
of  their  faith.  The  sovereign  was  but  a 
saint  the  more  in  their  calendar.  The 
glorious  triumphs  of  the  revolutionary 
armies — the  great  conquests  of  the  Consu- 
late—found no  sympathy  within  their 
bosoms  ;  they  neither  joined  the  battle  nor 
partook  of  the  ovation.  They  looked  on 
all  such  as  the  passing  pageant  of  the 
hour— and  muttered  to  each  other,  that 
the  bon  Dieu  could  not  bless  a  nation  that 
was  false  to  its  king. 

Who  could  see  them,  as  they  met  each 
morning,  and  not  feel  deeply  interested  in 
these  brave  but  simple  peasants  ?  At  day- 
break they  knelt  together  in  prayer,  their 
chief  officiating  as  priest ;  their  deep 
voices  joined  in  the  hymn  of  their  own 
native  valleys,  as  with  tearful  eyes  they 
sang  the  songs  that  reminded  them  of 
home.  The  service  over,  George  addressed 
them  in  a  short  speech— some  words  of 
advice  and  guidance  for  the  coming  day — 
reminding  them  that  ere  another  morning 
shone,  many  might  be  summoned  before 
the  tribunal  to  be  examiued,  and  from 
thence  led  forth  to  death  ;  exhorting  them 
to  fidelity  to  each  other,  and  loyalty  to 
their  glorious  cause.  Then  came  the  games 
of  their  country,  which  they  played  with 
all  the  enthusiasm  of  liberty  and  happi- 
ness. These  were  again  succeeded  by  hours 
passed  in  hearing  and  relating  stories  of 
their  beloved  Bretagne — of  its  tried  faith 
and  its  ancient  bravery — while  through  all 
they  lived   a  community  apart  from    the 


other  prisoners,  who  never  dared  to  obtrude 
upon  them  ;  nor  did  the  most  venturesome 
of  the  police  spies  ever  transgress  a  limit 
that  might  have  cost  him  his  life. 

Thus  did  two  so'  different  currents  run 
side  by  side  within  the  walls  of  the  Tem- 
ple, and  each  regarding  the  other  with 
distrust  and  dislike. 

While  thus  I  felt  a  growing  interest  for 
these  bold  but  simple  children  of  the  for- 
est, my  anxiety  for  my  own  fate  grew 
hourly  greater.  No  answer  was  ever 
returned  to  my  letter  to  the  minister,  nor 
any  notice  taken  of  it  whatever  ;  and 
though  each  day  I  heard  of  some  one  or 
other  being  examined  before  the  "  Tribunal 
Special,"  or  the  Prefet  de  Police,  I  seemed 
as  much  forgotten  as  though  the  grave 
inclosed  me.  My  dread  of  anything  like 
acquaintance  or  intimacy  with  the  other 
prisoners  prevented  my  learning  much  of 
what  went  forward  each  clay,  and  from 
which,  from  some  source  or  other,  they 
seemed  well  informed.  A  chance  phrase — 
an  odd  word  now  and  then  dropped — 
would  tell  me  of  some  new  discovery  by  the 
police,  or  some  recent  confession  by  a  cap- 
ture'd  conspirator  ;  but  of  what  the  crime 
consisted,  and  who  were  they  principally 
implicated,  I  remained  totally  ignorant. 

It  was  well  known  that  both  Moreau  and 
Pichegru  were  confined  in  a  part  of  the 
tower  that  opened  upon  the  terrace,  but 
neither  suffered  to  communicate  with  each 
other,  nor  even  to  appear  at  large  like  the 
other  prisoners.  It  was  rumored,  too,  that 
each  day  one  or  both  were  submitted  to 
long  and  searching  examinations,  which,  it 
was  said,  had  hitherto  elicited  nothing  from 
either,  save  total  denial  of  any  complicity 
whatever,  and  complete  ignorance  of  the 
plots  and  machinations  of  others. 

So  much  we  could  learn  from  the  Moni- 
teur,  which  reached  us  each  clay  ;  and, 
while  assuming  a  tone  of  open  reprobation 
regarding  the  Chouans,  spoke  in  terms  the 
most  cautious  and  reserved  respecting  the 
two  generals,  as  if  probing  the  public  mind 
how  far  their  implication  in  treason  might 
be  credited,  and  with  what  faith  the  proofs 
of  their  participation  might  be  received. 

At  last  the  train  seemed  laid  ;  the  ex- 
plosion was  all  prepared,  and  nothing  want- 
ing but  the  spark  to  ignite  it.  A  letter 
from  Moreau  to  the  Consul  appeared  in  the 
columns  of  the  government  paper,in  which, 
after  recapitulating  in  terms  most  suitable 
the  services  he  had  rendered  the  Republic 
while  in  command  of  the  army  of  the  Rhine, 
the  confidence  the  Convention  had  always 
placed  in  him,  the  frequent  occasions  which 
had  presented  themselves  to  him  of  grati- 


TOM   BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


375 


fying  ambitious  views  (had   he  conceived 

such),  lie  adverted  in  brief  but  touching 
terms  to  his  conduct  on  the  18th  Brumaire, 
iu  seconding  the  adventurous  step  taken  by 
Bonaparte  himself,  and  attributed  the  ne- 
glect his  devotion  had  met  with  rather  to 
the  interference  and  plotting  of  his  ene- 
mies, than  to  any  real  estrangement  on  the 
part  of  the  Consul.  Throughout  the  whole 
of  the  epistle  there  reigned  a  tone  of  reve- 
rence for  the  authority  of  Bonaparte  most 
striking  and  remarkable;  there  was  noth- 
ing like  an  approach  to  the  equality  which 
might  well  be  supposed  to  subsist  between 
two  great  generals— albeit,  the  one  was  at 
the  height  of  power,  and  the  other  sunk  in 
the  very  depth  of  misfortune.  On  the  con- 
trary, the  letter  was  nothing  more  than  an 
appeal  to  old  souvenirs  and  former  services 
— to  one  who  possessed  the  power,  if  he  had 
the  will,  to  save  him  ;  it  breathed  through- 
out the  sentiments  of  one  who  demands  a 
favor,  and  that  favor  his  life  and  honor,  at 
the  hands  of  him  who  had  already  consti- 
tuted himself  the  fountain  of  both. 

While  such  was  the  position  of  Moreau 
— a  position  which  resulted  in  his  down- 
fall— chance  informed  us  of  the  different 
ground  occupied  by  his  companion  in  mis- 
fortune, the  General  Pichegru. 

About  three  days  after  the  publication  of 
Moreau's  letter,  we  were  walking  as  usual 
in  the  garden  of  the  Temple,  'when  a  huis- 
sier  came  up,  and,  beckoning  to  two  of  the 
prisoners,  desired  them  to  follow  him. 
Such  was  the  ordinary  course  by  which  one 
or  more  were  daily  summoned  before  the 
tribunal  for  examination,  and  we  took  no 
notice  of  what  had  become  a  matter  of 
every-day  occurrence,  and  went  on  convers- 
ing as  before  about  the  news  of  the  morn- 
ing. Several  hours  elapsed  without  the 
others  having  returned,  and  at  last  we  be- 
gan to  feel  anxious  about  their  fate,  when 
one  of  them  made  his  appearance — his 
heightened  color  and  agitated  expression 
betokening  that  something  more  than  com- 
mon had  occurred. 

"  We  were  '  examined  with  Pichegru," 
said  the  prisoner,  who  was  an  old  quarter- 
master in  the  army  of  the  Upper  Rhine,  as 
he  sat  down  upon  a  bench  and  wiped  his 
forehead  with  his  handkerchief. 

"Indeed  !"  said  the  tall  Colonel,  with 
the  bald  head  ;  "  before  Monsieur  Real,  I 
suppose  ?  " 

"Yes,  before  Real.  My  poor  old  gene- 
ral ! — there  he  was,  as  I  used  to  see  him  for- 
merly, with  his  hand  in  the  breast  of  his 
uniform,  his  pale,  thin  features  as  calm  as 
ever,  until  at  last,  when  roused,  his  eyes 
flashed  lire,   and   his  lip   trembled  before 


he  broke  out   into  such  a    torrent  of  at- 
tack -" 

"Attack,  say  you!"  interrupted  the 
Abbe;  "a  bold  course,  my  faith  !  in  one 

who  has  need  of  all  his  power-   lor  del'. 

"  It  was  ever  his  tad  [que  to  be  t  h 
sailant,"  said  a  bronzed,  soldier-like  t> 
in  a  patched  uniform  ;   "hedidsoin  Hol- 
land." 

'•  He  ch<  r  enemy  to  practice  it 

with  then,  than  he  has  done  now,"  resumed 
the  Quartermaster,  sadly. 

'•'Whom  do  yon  mean  ?"  cried  half  a 
dozen  voices  together. 

"The  Consul." 

"The  Consul!  Bonaparte!  Attack 
Mm  !  "  repeated  one  after  the  other,  in  ac- 
cents of  surprise  and  horror.  "  Poor  fellow, 
he  is  deranged." 

"  So  I  almost  thought  myself,  as  I  heard 
him,"  replied  the  Quartermaster  ;  "  for. 
after  submitting  with  patience  to  a  long 
and  tiresome  examination,  he  suddenly,  as 
if  endurance  could  go  no  further,  cried  out 
— 'Assez!'  The  pn'fei  started,  and  Thu- 
riot,  who  sat  beside  him,  looked  up  terri- 
fied, while  Pichegru  went  on.  '  So,  the 
whole  of  this  negotiation  about  Cayenne  is 
then  a  falsehood.  Your  promise  to  make 
me  governor  there,  if  I  consented  to  quit 
France  forever,  was  a  trick  to  extort  con- 
fession, or  a  bribe  to  silence.  Be  it  so. 
Now  come  what  will,  Til  not  leave  France; 
and,  more  still,  I'll  declare  everything  be- 
fore the  judges  openly  at  the  tribunal.  The 
people  shall  know,  all  Europe  shall  know, 
who  is  my  accuser,  and  what  he  is.  Yes, 
your  Consul  himself  treated  with  the  Bour- 
bons in  Italy  ;  the  negotiations  were  begun, 
continued,  carried  on,  and  only  broken  oil' 
by  his  own  excessive  demands.  Ay.  I  can 
prove  it ;  his  very  return  from  Egypt 
through  the  wdiole  English  fleet — that 
happy  chance,  as  you  were  wont  to  term  it 
— was  a  secret  treaty  with  Pitt  for  the  res- 
toration of  the  exiled  family  on  his  reach- 
ing Paris.  These  facts,  and  facts  youshall 
confess  them,  are  in  my  power  to  prove  ; 
and  prove  them  I  will  in  the  face  of  all 
France." 

"Poor  Pichegru,"  said  the  Abbe,  con- 
temptuously. "  What  an  ill-tempered 
child  a  great  general  may  be  after  all !  Did 
he  think  the  hour  would  ever  come  for  him 
to  realize  such,  a  dream  ?" 

'•What  do  you  mean?"  cried  two  or 
three  together. 

"The  Corsican  never  forgets  a  vendet- 
ta," was  the  cool  reply,  as  he  walked  away.. 

"True,"  said  the  Colonel,  thoughtfully 
— "  quite  true." 

To  me  these   words  were  riddles.      My 


476 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


only  feeling  toward  Pichegna  was  one  of 
contempt  and  pity  that,  in  any  depth  of 
misfortune,  he  could  resort  to  such  an  un- 
worthy  attack  upon  him  who  still  was  the 
idol  of  all  my  thoughts  ;  and  for  this,  the 
conqueror  of  Holland  stood  now  as  low  in 
my  esteem  as  the  most  vulgar  of  the  rabble 
gang  that  each  day  saw  sentenced  to  the 
galleys. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE  REIGN  OF  TERROR  UNDER  THE  CONSULATE. 

Ojst  the  morning  that  followed  the  scene 
I  have  spoken  of  came  the  news  of  the 
arrest,  the  trial,  and  the  death  of  the  Due 
d'Enghien.  That  terrible  tragedy,  which 
yet  weighs,  and  will  weigh  forever  on  the 
memory  of  the  period,  reached  us  in  our 
prison  with  all  the  terrible  force  of  circum- 
stances to  make  it  a  day  of  sorrow  and 
mourning.  Such  details  as  the  journals 
afforded  but  little  satisfied  our  curiosity. 
The  youth,  the  virtues,  the  bravery  of  the 
prince,  had  made  him  the  idol  of  his  party  ; 
and  while  his  death  was  lamented  for  his 
own  sake,  his  followers  read  in  it  the  de- 
termination of  the  government  to  stop  at 
nothing  in  their  resolve  to  exterminate  that 
party.  A  gloomy  silence  sat  upon  the 
Chouans,  who  no  longer  moved  about  as 
before,  regardless  of  their  confinement  to  a 
prison.  Their  chief  remained  apart  ;  he 
neither  spoke  to  any  one,  nor  seemed  to 
notice  those  who  passed:  he  looked  stunned 
and  stupefied,  rather  than  deeply  affected, 
and  when  he  lifted  his  eyes,  their  expres- 
sion was  cold  and  wandering.  Even  the 
other  prisoners,  who  rarely  gave  way  to 
feeling  of  any  kind,  seemed  at  first  over- 
whelmed by  these  sad  tidings  ;  and  doubt- 
less many  who  before  had  trusted  to  rank 
and  influence  for  their  safety,  saw  how  lit- 
tle dependence  could  be  placed  on  such  aid, 
when  the  blow  had  fallen  upon  a  "  Conde" 
himself. 

I,  who  neither  knew  the  political  move- 
ments of  the  time,  nor  the  sources  of  the 
danger  the  Consul's  party  anticipated, 
could  only  mourn  over  the  unhappy  fate  of 
a  gallant  prince  whose  daring  had  cost  him 
his  life,  and  never  dreamed  for  a  moment 
of  calling  in  question  the  honor  or  good 
faith  of  Bonaparte  in  an  affair  of  which  I 
could  have  easily  believed  him  totally  ig- 
norant. Such,  indeed,  was  the  repre- 
sentation of  the  Moniteur;  and  whatever 
doubts  the  hints  about  me  might  have  ex- 
cited, were  speedily  allayed  by  the  accounts 
I  read  of  the  Consul's  indignation  at  the 


haste  and  informality  of  the  trial,  and  his 
;  deep  anger  at  the  catastrophe  that  follow- 
ed it. 

"  Savary  will  be  disgraced  for  this,"  said 
!  I  to  the  abbe,  who  leaned  over  my  shoulder 
while  I  read  the  paper.  "Bonaparte  can 
i  never  forgive  him." 

"You  mistake,  my  dear  sir,"  replied  he, 
i  with  a  strange  expression  I  could  not 
fathom;  "the  Consul  is  the  most  forgiv- 
iing  of  men  ;  he  never  bears  malice." 

"  But  here  was  a  dreadful  event — a  crime, 
perhaps." 

"  Only  a  fault,"  resumed  he.  "  By-the- 
by,  colonel,  this  order  about  closing  the 
barriers  will  be  excessively  inconvenient  to 
the  good  people  of  Paris." 

"  I  have  been  thinking  over  that,  too," 
said  an  over-dressed,  affected-looking 
youth,  whose  perfumed  curls  and  studied 
costume  formed  a  strange  contrast  with  the 
i  habits  of  his  fellow-prisoners.  "If  they 
shut  up  the  Barriere  de  TEtoile,  what  are 
they  to  do  for  Longchamps  ?  " 

"  Par  bleu,  that  did  not  strike  me,"  in- 
terposed the  colonel,  tapping  his  forehead 
with  his  finger.  "  1*11  wager  a  crown  they 
haven't  thought  of  that  themselves." 

"  The  Champs  Elysees  are  surely  long 
enough  for  such  tomfoolery,"  said  the 
Quartermaster,  in  a  gruff,  savage  tone. 

".Not  one  half,*'  was  the  imperturbable 
reply  of  the  youth;  "and  Longchamps 
promised  admirably  this  year.  I  had  or- 
dered a  caleche — light  blue,  with  gilt  circles 
on  the  wheels,  and  a  bronze  carving  to  the 
pole — like  an  antique  chariot." 

"  Purlieu,  you  are  more  likely  to  take 
your  next  airing  in  a  simpler  conveyance," 
said  the  Quartermaster,  with  a  grin. 

"I  was  to  have  driven  la  Comtesse  de 
Beauflers  to  the  Bois  de  Boulogne." 

"You  must  content  yourself  with  the 
Count  de  la  Marque  " — the  prison  name  of 
the  executioner — "  instead,"  growled  out 
the  other. 

I  turned  away,  no  less  disgusted  at  the 
frivolity  that  could  only  see  in  the  dread- 
ful event  that  took  place  the  temporary  in- 
terruption to  a  vain  and  silly  promenade, 
than  at  the  savage  coarseness  that  could 
revel  in  the  pain  common  misfortune  gave 
him  the  privilege  of  inflicting. 

Such,  however,  wras  the  prevalent  tone 
of  thinking  and  speaking  there.  The  death 
of  friends — the  ruin  of  those  best  loved  and 
cared  for — the  danger  that  each  day  came 
nearer  to  themselves — were  all  casualties  to 
which  habit,  recklessness  of  life,  and  lib- 
ertinism had  accustomed  them  ;  while  about 
former  modes  of  life,  the  pleasures  of  the 
capital, -its  delights  and  dissipation,  they 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


377 


conversed  with  the  mosl  eager  interest.  It 
is  thus,  while  in  some  natures  misfortunes 
will  call  forth  into  exercise  the  best  and 
noblest  trails  that  in  happier  circumstances 
had  never  found  the  necessity  that  gave 
them  birth  ;  so,  in  others,  adversity  de- 
presses and  demoralizes  those*  weaker  tem- 
peraments that  seemed  formed  to  sail  safely 
in  the  calm  waters,  but  never  destined  to 
brave  the  stormy  seas  of  life. 

With  such  associates  I  could  have  neither 
sympathy  nor  friendship  ;  and  my  life 
passed  on  in  one  unbroken  and  dreary  mo- 
notony— day  succeeding  day,  and  night 
following  night— till  my  thoughts,  turned 
ever  inward,  had  worn  as  it  were  a  track 
for  themselves,  in  which  the  world  with- 
out and  its  people  had  no  share  whatever. 
Not  only  was  my  application  to  the  min- 
ister unanswered,  but  I  was  never  examined 
before  any  of  the  tribunals  ;  and  some- 
times the  dreadful  fate  of  those  prisoners 
who,  in  the  Eeign  of  Terror,  passed  their 
whole  life  in  prison,  their  crimes,  their 
very  existence  forgotten,  would  cross  my 
mind,  and  strike  me  with  terror  unspeak- 
able. 

If,  in  the  somber  atmosphere  of  the 
Temple  a  sad  and  cheerless  monotony  pre- 
vailed, events  followed  fast  on  each  other 
in  that  world  from  which  its  gloomy  walls 
excluded  us ;  every  hour  was  some  new 
feature  of  the  dark  conspiracy  brought  to 
light ;  the  vigilance  of  Monsieur  Real  slept 
not  night  or  day  ;  and  all  that  bribery, 
terror,  or  torture  could  effect,  was  put  into 
requisition  to  obtain  full  and  precise  in- 
formation as  to  every  one  concerned  in  the 
plot. 

It  was  a  bright,  fresh  morning  in  April,  ( 
the  sixth  of  the  month — the  day  is  graven 
on  my  memory — when,  on  walking  forth 
into  the  garden,  I  was  surprised  to  see  the 
prisoners  standing  in  a  circle  round  a  tree 
on  which  a  placard  was  fastened,  with 
glances  eagerly  turned  toward  the  paper, 
or  bent  sadly  to  the  ground.  They  stood 
around,  sad  and  silent :  to  my  question  of 
what  had  occurred,  a  significant  look  at 
the  tree  was  the  only  reply  I  received, 
while  in  the  faces  of  all  I  perceived  that 
some  dreadful  news  had  reached  them. 
Forcing  my  way  with  difficulty  through 
the  crowd,  I  at  length  approached  near 
enough  to  read  the  placard,  on  which,  in 
large  letters,  was  writtten  : 

"  Charles  Pichegru,  ex-General  Rlpub- 
licain,  s'est  elrangle  dans  sa  prison. 
"  6  Avril.     Le  Temple."      \ 


"And  did  Pichegru,  the  groat  conqueror 
of  Holland,  die  by  his  own  hand  ?"  said  I, 
as  my  eye  rested  on  the  fatal  bullel  in. 

"Don't  you  read  it,  young  man  ':  "  re- 
plied a  deep,  solemn  voice  beside  me, 
which  I  at  once  knew  was  thai  of  <  '■■ 
I  leorge  himself.  "  Can  yon  doubt  the 
accuracy  of  information  supplied  by  the 
police  ?  " 

The  by-standers  looked  tip  with  a  terri- 
fied and  frightened  expression,  as  if  dread- 
ing lest  the  very  listening  to  his  words 
might  be  construed  into  an  acquiescence  in 
tfyem. 

"Trust  me,  he  is  dead/'  continued  lie. 
"They  who  have  announced  his  fate  here 
have  a  right  to  be  relied  on.  -It  now  only 
remains  to  be  seen  how  he  died.  These 
prison  maladies  have  a  strange  interet 
us  who  live  in  the  infected  climate  ;  and, 
if  I  mistake  not,  I  see  the  Monitevr  yon 'I*  r, 
a  full  hour  before  its  usual  time.  See 
what  a  blessing,  gentlemen,  you  enjoy  in 
a  paternal  government,  which,  in  moments 
of  public  anxiety,  can  feel  for  your  distress, 
and  hasten  to  alleviate  it." 

The  tone  of  sarcasm  he  spoke  in,  the 
measured  fall  of  every  word,  sank  into  the 
hearers'  minds,  and  though  they  stood 
mute,  they  did  not  even  move  from  the 
spot. 

"Here  is  the  Moniteur  now,"  said  the 
Quartermaster,  opening  the  paper  and 
reading  aloud. 

"'To  his  oft-repeated  assurances  that 
he  would  make  no  attempt  upon  his 
life—' " 

A  rude  burst  of  laughter  from  George 
interrupted  the  reader  here. 

"  I  ask  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  he.  touch- 
ing his  cap  ;  "  proceed.  I  promise  not  to 
interrupt  you  again." 

" '  That  he  would  make  no  attempt 
upon  his  life,  General  Pichegru  obtained 
permission  that  the  sentries  should  be 
stationed  outside  his  cell  during  the  night. 
Having  provided  himself  with  a  fagot, 
which  ho  secreted  beneath  his  bed,  he 
supped  as  usual  in  the  evening  of  yesterday, 
eating  heartily  at  eleven  o'clock,  and  re- 
tiring to  rest  by  twelve.  When  thus  alone 
he  placed  the  stick  within  the  folds  of  the 
black  silk  cravat  he  generally  wore  round 
his  neck,  in  such  a  manner  as.  when  twist- 
ed, to  act  like  a  tourniquet ;  and  having 
turned  it  with  such  a  degree  of  force  as  to 
arrest  the  return  of  blood  from  the  head, 
he  fastened  it  beneath  his  head  and  should- 
ers, and  in  this  manner,  apoplexy  super- 
vening, expired.'  " 

"Par  St.  Louis,  sir,"  cried  George, 
"  the  explanation  is  admirable,  and   most 


378 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


satisfactorily  shows  how  a  man  may  pos- 
sess life  long  enough  to  be  certain  he  has 

killed  himself.  The  only  thing  wanting 
is  for  the  general  to  assist  m  dressing  the 
proces-verbal,  when  doubtless  his  own 
views  of  his  case  would  be  equally  edifying 
and  instructive  ;  and  sec,  already  the  cere- 
mony has  begun.7'' 

As  he  spoke,  he  pointed  to  a  number  of 
persons  who  crossed  the  terrace,  preceded 
by  Savary,  m  his  uniforn  of  the  gendarmes 
(VeUte,  and  who  went  in  the  direction  of 
the  cell  where  the  dead  body  lay. 

The  prisoners  now  fell  into  little  knots 
and  groups,  talking  beneath  their  breath, 
and  apparently  terrified  at  every  stir  about 
them.  Each  compared  his  sensation  of 
what  he  thought  he  heard  during  the  night 
with  the  other's.  Some  asserted  that  they 
distinctly  heard  the  chains  of  the  draw- 
bridge creak  long  after  midnight ;  others 
vouched  for  the  quick  tramp  of  feet  along 
the  corridors,  and  the  sounds  of  strange 
voices  ;  one  whose  cell  was  beneath  that 
of  Pichegru,  said  that  he  was  awoke  before 
day  by  a  violent  crash  overhead,  followed 
by  a  harsh  sound  like  coughing,  which 
continued  for  some  time,  and  then  ceased 
entirely.  These  were  vague,  uncertain 
signs,  yet  what  horrible  thoughts  did  they 
not  beget  in  each  listener's  mind  ! 

As  I  stood  terror-struck  and  speechless,  I 
felt  a  tap  on  my  shoulder.  I  turned  ;  it 
was  the  abbe,  who,  Avith  a  smile  of  peculiar 
irony,  stood  behind  me. 

"Poor  Savary  !"  said  he,  m  a  whisper  ; 
"how  will  he  ever  get  over  this  blunder, 
and  it  so  very  like  the  former  one  ?" 

He  did  not  wait  for  a  reply,  but  moved 
away. 

"  Who  is  to  be  the  next,  sir  ?  "  cried 
George,  with  a  dee])  voice,  as  he  saw  the 
assemblage  thus  accidentally  collected  about 
to  break  up — "  Morean,  perhaps.  One 
thing  I  bid  you  all  bear  witness  to  :  suicide 
is  a  crime  I'll  never  commit.  Let  no  nar- 
rative of  a  cravat  and  a  fagot — " 

"Do  you  never  eat  mushrooms,  gen- 
eral ?"  said  the  Abbe,  dryly  ;  and,  whether 
from  the  manner  of  the  speaker,  or  the 
puzzled  look  of  him  to  whom  the  speech 
was  addressed,  the  whole  crowd  burst  into 
a  fit  of  laughter — the  emotion  seemed  like 
one  in  which  relief  was  felt  by  all.  They 
laughed  long  and  loud — and  now  the  faces 
that  a  minute  before  were  marked  by  eveiy 
character  of  deep  affliction,  looked  merry 
and  happy.  Each  had  some  story,  some 
apropos  to  tell,  or  some  smart  witticism 
to  let  off  against  his  neighbor ;  and  to 
hear  them  you  would  say  that  never  was 
there  a  subject  more  suggestive  of  droll- 


ery than  the  one  of  suicide  and  sudden 
death. 

And  thus  was  it  ever.  No  event,  how- 
ever  dreadful — no  circumstance,  however 
shocking,  could  do  more  than  momentarily 
affect  those  whose  life  possessed  no  security, 
was  governed  by  no  principle.  Levity  and 
unbelief — unbelief  that  extended  not  only 
to  matters  of  religion,  but  actually  pene- 
trated  every  relation  of  life,  rendering  them 
skeptical  of  friendship,  love,  truth,  honor, 
and  charity — were  the  impulses  under  winch 
they  lived  ;  and  they  would  have  laughed 
him  to  scorn  who  should  have  attempted 
to  establish  another  code  of  acting  or  think- 
ing. Such  feelings,  if  they  made  them  but 
little  suited  to  all  the  habits  and  charities 
of  life,  certainly  rendered  them  most  indif- 
ferent to  death  ;  and  much  of  that  courage 
so  much  lauded  and  admired  on  the  scaf- 
fold, had  no  other  source  than  in  the  head- 
long recklessness  the  prison  had  inculcated 
— the  indifference  to  everything,  where 
everything  was  questionable  and  doubtful. 

I  struggled  powerfully  against  the  taint 
of  such  a  consuming  malady.  I  bethought 
me  of  my  boyhood  and  its  early  purpose — 
of  him  who  first  stirred  my  soul  to  ambition 
— and  asked  myself  what  would  he  have 
thought  of  me  had  I  yielded  to  such  a  trial 
as  this  ?  1  pictured  before  me  a  career, 
when  such  devotion  as  I  felt,  aided  by  a 
stout  heart,  must  win  its  way  to  honor  : 
and  when  roused  to  thought,  these  low, 
depressing  dreams,  these  dark  hours  of 
doubt  and  despair,  vanished  before  it.  But 
gradually  my  health  gave  way— my  lethar- 
gic apathy  increased  upon  me — the  gloomy 
walls  of  my  cell  had  thrown  their  shadow 
over  my  spirit,  and  I  sank  into  a  state  of 
moping  indifference,  in  which  I  scarcely 
marked,  the  change  of  day  and  night ;  and 
felt  at  length  that  had  the  sentence  been 
pronounced  which  condemned  me  for  life 
to  the  walls  of  the  Temple,  I  could  have 
heard  it  without  emotion. 

"  Come,  sous-lieutenant,  it's  your  turn 
now  !  *'  said  the  turnkey,  entering  my  cell 
one  morning,  where  I  sat  alone  at  break- 
fast ;  "I  have  just  received  the  orders  for 
your  appearance." 

"How  !  where  ?"  said  I,  scarcely  able  to 
do  more  than  guess  at  the  meaning  of  his 
words  ;   "  before  the  prefet,  is  it  ?  " 

"No,  no,  a  very  different  affair,  indeed  : 
you  are  summoned  with  the  Chouan  pris- 
oners to  appear  at  the  Palais  de  Justice." 

"  The  Palais  ! "  said  I,  as  for  the  first 
time  for  weeks  past  a  sentiment  of  fear 
crept  through  me.  "Are  we  to  be  tried 
without  having  a  list  of  the  charges  alleged 
against  us  ?" 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


379 


"  You'll  hear  them  time  enough  in 
court."' 

"  Without  an  advocate  to  defend  us." 
"  The  president  will  name  one  Eor  thai 

purpose." 

"And  can  the  jury — " 

"Jury  !  there  is  no  jury  ;  the  Consul 
has  suspended  trial  by  jury  Eor  two  years. 
Come,  come,  don't  be  downhearted  your 
friends  without  are  singing  away  as  gayly 
as  though  it  were  a  festival.  My  faith,  t  hat 
General  George  is  made  of  iron  I  believe. 
He  has  been  confined  au  secret  these  ten 
day — his  rations  diminished  to  almost  a 
starvation  level ;  and  yet  there  is  he  now, 
with  his  countenance  as  calm,  and  his  look 
as  firm,  as  if  he  were  at  large  on  the  hills 
of  La  Vendee.  Cheer  up,  then — let  the 
example  of  your  chief — " 

"Chief  !  he  is  no  chief  of  mint'." 

"  That's  as  it  may,  or  may  not  be,"  replied 
he,  gruffly,  as  though  wounded  by  what 
he  deemed  a  want  of  confidence  in  his 
honor ;  "  however,  make  haste  and  dress,  for 
the  carriages  will  be  here  to  convey  you  to 
the  Palais — and  there  now  are  the  gen- 
darmes cVelite  assembling  in  the  court." 

As  I  proceeded  to  dress,  I  could  see  from 
the  window  of  my  cell  that  a  squadron  of 
gendarmes,  in  full  uniform,  were  drawn  up 
in  the  square  of  the  prison,  along  one  side 
of  which  were  several  carriages  standing, 
each. with  two  gendarmes  seated  on  the 
box.  The  prisoners  were  confined  to  their 
walls  ;  but  at  every  window  some  face  ap- 
peared peering  anxiously  at  the  proceed- 
ings beneath,  and  watching,  with  inquisi- 
tive gaze,  every,  even  the  slightest,  move- 
ment. 

Just, as  the  clock  struck  nine  the  door  of 
my  cell  was  opened,  and  a  greffier  of  the 
court  entered,  and,  taking  from  a  black 
portmanteau  at  his  side  a  roll  of  paper,  be- 
gan, without  delay,  to  repeat  in  a  sing-song 
recitative  tone  a  formal  summons  of  the 
Grand  Tribunal  for  the  "surrender  of  the 
body  of  Thomas  Burke,  sous-lieutenant  of 
the  huitieme  hussars,  now  in  the  prison  of 
the  Temple,  and  accused  of  the  crime  of 
treason.'4 

The  last  word  made  me  shudder  as  it  fell 
from  him  ;  and  not  all  my  stoical  indiffer- 
ence of  weeks  past  was  proof  against  such 
an  accusation.  The  jailer  having  formally 
listened  to  the  document,  and  replied  by 
reading  aloud  another,  delivered  me  over 
to  the  officer,  who  desired  me  to  follow 
him. 

In  the  court  beneath  the  greater  number 
of  the  prisoners  were  already  assembled. 
George,  among  the  number,  was  conspicu- 
ous, not  only  by  his  size  and  proportions. 


but  by  a  handsome  uniform,  in  the  brei 
of  which  he  wore  his  decoration  of  St. 
Louis,  from  winch  descended  a  brighl  bow 
of  crimson  ribbon.  A  slighl  bustle  at  one 
of  the  doorways  of  the  tower  suddenly 
seemed  to  attract  his  attention,  and  1  saw 
thai  In' turned  quickly  round,  and  forced 
his  way  througn  the  crowd  to  the  pi. 
Eager  to  learn  what  it  was,  i  followed  him 
at  once.  Pushing  with  some  difficulty  for- 
ward, 1  reached  the  doorway,  on  the  step 
of  which  lay  a  young  man  in  a  fainting  fit. 
His  face,  pale  as  death,  had  no  color  save 
two  dark  circles  round  the  eyes,  which, 
though  open,  were  upturned  and  filmy. 
His  cravat  had  been  hastily  removed  by 
some  of  the  bystanders,  and  showed  a  pur- 
ple welt  around  his  neck,  on  one  side  of 
which  a  mass  of  blood  escaped  beneath  the 
skin,  made  a  dreadful-looking  tumor.  His 
dress  denoted  a  person  of  condition,  as  well 
as  the  character  of  his  features  ;  but  never 
had  I  looked  upon  an  object  so  sad  and 
woe-hegone  before.  At  his  side  knelt 
George — his  strong  arm  round  his  back, 
while  his  great  massive  hand  patted  the 
water  on  his  brow.  The  stern  features  of 
the  hardy  Breton,  which  ever  before  had 
conveyed  to  me  nothing  but  daring  and 
impetuous  passion,  were  softened  to  a  look 
of  womanly  kindliness — his  blue  eye  beam- 
ing as  softly  as  though  it  were  a  mother 
leaning  over  her  infant. 

"  Bouvet,  my  dear,  dear  boy,  remember 
thou  art  a  Breton — rally  thyself,  my  child 
— bethink  thee  of  the  cause." 

The  name  of  the  youth  at  once  recalled 
him  whom  I  had  seen  some  months  before 
among  the  Chouan  prisoners  :  and  who, 
sad  and  sickly  as  he  then  seemed,  was  now 
much  further  gone  toward  the  tomb. 

"  Bouvet,"  cried  George,  in  an  accent  of 
heartrending  sorrow,  "this  will  disgrace 
us  forever." 

The  youth  turned  his  cold  eyes  round 
till  they  were  fixed  on  the  other's  face  : 
while  his  lips,  still  parted,  and  his  cheek 
pale  and  flattened,  gave  him  the  appear- 
ance of  a  corpse  suddenly  called  back  to 
life. 

"There,  my  own  brave  boy,"  said 
George,  kissing  his  forehead — "there,  thou 
art  thyself  again."  lie  bent  over  till  his 
lips  nearly  touched  the  youth's  ear,  and 
then  whispered — "Dost  thou  forget  the 
last  words  Monseigneur  spoke  to  thee,  Bou- 
vet ? — '  Conserve-toi  pourtes  amis,  et  con- 
tre  nos  ennemis  communs.' " 

The  boy  started  up  at  the  sounds,  and 
looked  wildly  about  him,  while  his  hands 
were  open  wide  with  a  kind  of  spasmodic 
motion. 


380 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


"  Tonnerre  de  eiel"  cried  George,  with 
frantic  passion,  "whathave  they  done  with 
him — his  mind  is  gone.  Bouvet — Hon  vet 
de  Lozier — knowest  thou  this?"  He  tore 
from  his  bosom  a  miniature,  surrounded 
with  large  brilliants,  and  held  it  to  the 
eyes  of  the  youth. 

A  wild  shriek  broke  from  the  youth  as 
he  fell  back  in  strong  convulsions.  The 
dreadful  cry  seemed  like  the  last  wail  of 
expiring  reason — so  sad,  so  piercing  was  its 
cadence. 

"  Look,  see,"  said  George,  turning  a  sav- 
age scowl  upon  the  crowd,  "  they  have  ta- 
ken away  his  mind — he  is  an  idiot." 

"The  General  George  Cadoudal,"  cried 
a  loud  .  voice  from  the  center  of  the 
court. 

"Here,"  was  the  firm  reply. 

"  This  way,  sir — the  carriage  yonder." 

"Monsieur  Sol  de  Gisolles." 

"Here,"  replied  a  tall,  aristocratic -look- 
ing personage,  in  deep  mourning. 

Sous-Lieutenant  Burke  was  the  next 
name  called,  and  I  followed  the  others,  and 
soon  found  myself  seated  m  a  close  caleche, 
with  a  gendarme  beside  me,  while  two 
mounted  men  of  the  corps  sat  at  either  side 
of  the  carriage  with  drawn  swords.  Picot, 
the  servant  of  George,  the  faithful  Breton, 
was  next  summoned,  and  Lebourgeois,  an 
old  but  handsome  man,  m  the  simple  habit 
of  a  farmer,  with  his  long  white  hair,  and 
soft  kind  countenance.  Many  other  names 
were  called  over,  and  nearly  an  hour  elapsed 
before  the  ceremony  was  concluded,  and 
the  order  was  given  to  move  forward. 

At  last  the  heavy  gates  were  opened, 
and  the  procession  issued  forth.  I  was  sur- 
prised to  see  that  the  entire  Boulevard  was 
lined  with  troops,  behind  which  thousands 
of  people  were  closely  wedged — all  the  win- 
dows, and  even  the  house-tops,  being  filled 
with  spectators. 

When  we  reached  the  quays,  the  crowd 
was  greater  still ;  and  it  recpnred  all  the 
efforts  of  the  troops  to  keep  it  back  saffi- 
ciently  to  permit  an  open  space  for  the  car- 
riages— while  at  all  the  streets  that  opened 
at  the  quays,  mounted  dragoons  were  sta- 
tioned, to  prevent  any  carriage  passing 
down.  Never  had  I  beheld  such  a  vast 
multitude  of  people ;  and  yet,  through  all 
that  crowded  host,  a  deep,  solemn  silence 
prevailed — not  a  cry,  nor  a  shout,  was 
heard  in  all  the  way.  Once  only,  at  the 
corner  of  the  Pont  Neuf,  a  cry  of  "  Vive 
Moreau  !  "  was  given  by  some  one  m  the 
crowd  ;  but  it  was  a  solitary  voice — and  the 
moment  after  I  saw  a  gendarme  force  his 
way  through  the  mass,  and  seizing  a  miser- 
able-looking creature  by  the  neck,   hurry 


him   along  beside  his   horse    toward  the 

guard- house. 

On  crossing  the  bridge,  I  saw  that  acom- 
pany  of  artillery  and  two  guns  were  placed 
in  position  beside  Desaix  s  monument,  so 
as  to  command  the  Ponl  Neuf :  all  these 
preparations  clearly  indicating  I  hat  t  lu  gov- 
ernmenl  felt  the  occasion  such  as  to  war- 
ran  i  the  most  energetic  measures  of  security. 
There  was  something  in  the  earnest  look  of 
the  cannonicrs.  as  they  stood  with  their 
lighted  matches  beside  the  guns,  that  be- 
trayed the  resolve  of  one  whose  quick  de- 
termination was  ever  ready  for  the  moment 
of  danger. 

The  narrow  streets  of  the  Isle  St.  Louis, 
more  densely  crowded  than  any  part  of  the 
way,  slackened  our  pace  considerably,  and 
frequently  the  gendarmes  were  obliged  to 
clear  the  space  before  the  carriages  could 
proceed.  I  could  not  help  feeling  struck, 
as  we  passed  along  these  miserable  and  dark 
alleys — where  vice  and  crime,  and  wretch- 
edness of  every  type,  herded  together — 
to  hear,  at  every  step,  some  expressions  of 
pity  or  commiseration  from  those  who, 
themselves,  seemed  the  veriest  objects  of 
compassion.  "Ah,  voila,"  cried  an  old 
creature  in  rags,  on  whose  cotton  bonnet  a 
faded  and  dirty  tricolored  ribbon  was  fas- 
tened— "  voila  Moreau.  I'd  know  his  proud 
face  any  day.  Poor  general,  I  hope  it  will 
not  go  hard  with  you  to-day  ! " 

"Look  there,"  screamed  a  hag,  as  the 
carriage  in  which  Bouvet  sat  passed  by. 
"Look  at  the  handsome  youth  that's  dy- 
ing— Holy  Virgin  !  he'll  not  be  living  when 
they  reach  the  gate  of  the  Palais  !  "  "  And 
there,"  cried  another,  "there's  a  hussar 
officer,  pale  enough,  I  trow  he  is  ;  come, 
I'll  say  a  prayer  or  two  for  him  there,  it  can 
do  him  no  harm,  anyhow." 

The  hoarse  rattle  of  a  drum  in  front 
mingled  with  the  noise  of  the  cavalcade, 
and  I  now  could  hear  the  clank  of  a  guard 
turning  out.  The  minute  after  we  stood 
before  a  colossal  gateway,  whose  rich  trace- 
ry shone  in  the  most  gorgeous  gilding  ;  it 
was  in  the  splendid  taste  of  Louis  XIV., 
and  well  became  the  entrance  of  what  once 
had  been  a  royal  palace.  "Alas  !  "  thought 
I,  "how  unlike  those  who  once  trod  this 
wide  court  is  the  melancholy  cortege  that 
now  enters  it." 

As  each  carriage  drew  up  at  the  foot  of  a 
wide  flight  of  stone  steps,  the  prisoners  de- 
scended, and,  escorted  by  gendarmes  on  each 
side,  were  led  into  the  building.  When  all 
had  reached  the  hall,  the  order  was  given 
to  move  forward,  and  we  walked  on  till  we 
came  to  a  long  gallery.  On  either  side  was 
a  range  of  massive  pillars,  between  which 


TOM   BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


:jsi 


views  were  obtained  of  various  spacious,  bul 
dimly-lighted  chambers,  apparently  ne- 
glected and  unused  ;  some  benches  here 
and  (here,  an  old  cabinet,  and  a  deal 
were  all  the  furniture.  Eere  wehall 
a  few  moments,  till  a  door  opening  at  the 
extreme  end,  a  sign  was  made  for  us  toad- 
ance,  and  now  we  heard  a  low  rushing 
sound,  like  the  distant  breaking  of  the  sea 
m  a  calm  night.  It  grew  louder  as  wet 
went,  till  we  could  mark  the  mingling  of 
several  hundred  voices,  as  they  conversed 
in  a  subdued  and  under  tone. 

Then,  indeed,  a  dreadful  thrill  ran 
through  me,  as  I  thought  of  the  countless 
mass  before  whom  I  was  to  stand  forth  a 
criminal,  and  it  needed  every  effort  m  my 
power  to  keep  my  feet. 

A  heavy  curtain  of  dark  cloth  yet  sepa- 
rated us  from  a  view  of  the  court,  but  we 
could  hear  the  voice  of  .the  president  com- 
manding silence,  and  the  monotonous  into- 
nation of  the  clerk  reading  the  order  for  the 
proceedings.  This  concluded,  a  deep  voice 
called  out,  "Introduce  the  prisoners,''  and. 
the  words  Avere  repeated  still  louder  by  a 
huissier  at  the  entrance  ;  and  at  a  signal  the 
line  moved  forward,  the  curtain  was  drawn 
back,  and  we  advanced  into  the  court. 

The  crowd  of  faces  that  filled  the  vast 
space  from  the  body  of  the  court  below  to 
the  galleries  above,  turned,  as  we  passed  on 
to  the  bench,  at  one  side  of  the  raised  plat- 
form, near  the  seat  of  the  judges.  A  simi- 
lar bench,  but  unoccupied,  ran  along  the 
opposite  side,  while  directly  m  front  of  the 
judges  were  ranged  the  advocates  in  rows 
closely  packed  as  they  could  sit  ;  a  small 
desk,  somewhat  advanced  from  the  rest,  be- 
ing the  seat  reserved  for  the  procureur-gene- 
ral  of  the  court. 

The  vast  multitude  of  spectators — the 
pomp  and  circumstance  of  a  court  of  jus- 
tice— the  solemn  look  of  the  judges  arrayed 
in  their  dark  robes  and  square  black  caps, 
reminding  one  of  the  officers  of  the  Inqui- 
sition, as  we  see  them  in  old  paintings  ; 
the  silence  where  so  many  were  assembled 
— all  struck  me  with  awe,  and  1  scarcely 
dared  to  look  up,  lest  m  the  glances  bent 
upon  me  I  should  meet  some  whose  looks 
might  seem  to  condemn  me. 

"Proclaim  the  seance,"  said  the  Presi- 
dent. 

And  with  a  loud  voice  the  huissier  of  the 
court  made  proclamation  that  the  tribunal 
had  commenced  its  sitting.  This  conclud- 
ed, the  procureur-general  proceeded  to  read 
the  names  of  the  accused,  beginning  with 
General  Moreau,  Armand  de  Polignac, 
Charles  de  Riviere,  Sol  de  Gisolles,  George 
Cadoudal,  and  some  twenty  others  of  less 


.  among  which  I  heard  with  a  sinking 
heart  my  own  name  pronounced.  Some 
(  nstomary   formal]  m<  d  dow  to  oc- 

cupy the  court  for  a  considerable  time; 
after  which,  the  huissier  called  silence  once 
more. 

"General  Moreau,"  said  the  President, 
m  a  deep  voice  thai  was  heard  throughoul 
(he  entire  court.  " Rise  up,  sir,"  added 
he,  after  a  few  seconds'  pause.  I  looked 
down  the  bench,  at  the  farthest  cud  of 
which  I  saw  the  tall  and  well-knii  figure 
of  a  man  in  the  uniform  of  a  general  oi  the 
Republic  ;  his  back  was  turned  towardme, 
but  his  bearing  and  carriage  were  quite 
enough  to  distinguish  the  soldier. 

"Your  name  and  surname,"  said  the 
President. 

Before  an  answer  could  be  returned,  a 
dull  sound,  like  something  heavy  falling, 
resounded  through  the  court,  and  in  an 
instant  several  persons  around  me  stood 
ii]).  I  bent  forward  to  see,  and  beheld  the 
figure  of  Bouvet  de  Lozier  stretched 
insensibly  upon  the  ground  ;  beside  him 
his  faithful  friend  George  was  stooping, 
and  endeavoring  to  open  his  vest  and  give 
him  air. 

"  Bring  some  water  here  quickly," 
cried  the  hardy  Breton,  m  a  tone  that 
showed  little  respect  for  where  he  stood. 
"Your  absurd  ceremonial  has  frightened 
the  poor  boy  out  of  his  senses." 

"  Respect  the  court,  sir,  or  I  commit 
you  !  "  said  the  President,  in  a  voice  of 
anger. 

A  contemptuous  look,  followed  by  a  still 
more  contemptuous  shrug  of  the  shoul- 
ders, was  his  reply. 

"  Remove  the  prisoner,"  said  the  Presi- 
dent, pointing  to  the  still  fainting  youth, 
"  and  proclaim  silence  in  the  court.'' 

The  officers  of  the  tribunal  carried  the 
death-like  figure  of  the  boy  down  tl  e  steps, 
and  bore  him  to  some  of  the  chambers  near. 

This  little  incident,  slight  and  passing 
as  it  was,  seemed  much  to  affect  the  audi- 
tory, and  it  was  some  time  before  perfect 
silence  could  be  again  restored. 

"So  much  for  the  regime  of  the  Tem- 
ple," said  George,  aloud,  as  he  looked  after 
the  insensible  form  of  his  friend. 

"Silence,  sir  !"  cried  one  of  the  judges. 
M.  Thuriot,  a  harsh  and  severe-looking 
man,  whose  hatred  to  the  prisoners  was  the 
subject  of  much  conversation  m  the 
prison. 

"Ah,  it  is  you,  Tue-Roi  !  "  cried  George, 
punning  upon  his  name,  for  he  had  been 
one  of  the  regicides.  "You  there — I 
thought  they  had  found  you  out  long  ere 
this." 


382 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


A  burst  of  laughter  that  nothing  could 
repress,  broke  through  the  crowded  court, 
and  it  was  not  until  some  five  or  six  per- 
sons were  forcibly  removed  by  the  gen- 
darmes that  order  was  again  restored. 

"Read  the  act  of  accusation,'' said  the 
President  in  a  deep,  solemn  voice.' 

*'In  the  name  of  the  Republic,  one  and 
indivisible — " 

"Monsieur  le  President,"  interrupted 
the  Procureur- General,  "  I  would  submit 
to  the  court  that,  as  in  the  first  accusation 
there  are  several  of  the  prisoners  not 
included,  they  should  not  remain  during 
the  recital  of  the  indictment." 

A'  conversation  of  some  minutes  now 
took  place  between  the  judges,  during 
which  again  the  silence  was  unbroken  in 
the  court.  I  turned  gladly  from  the  gaze 
of  the  thousand  spectators  to  the  bench 
where  my  fellow-prisoners  were  seated  ; 
and,  however  varied  by  age,  rank,  and 
occupation,  there  seemed  but  one  feeling 
amongst  them — a  hardy  and  resolute  spirit 
to  brave  every  danger  without  flinching. 

"Which  of  the  prisoners  are  not 
accused  under  the  first  act  ?  "  said  Thu- 
riot. 

"  Charles  Auguste  Rebarde,  dit  le  Noir, 
Guillaume  Lebarte,  and  Thomas  Burke, 
sous-lieutenant  in  the  8th  Regiment  of 
Hussars." 

"  Let  them  withdraw,"  said  the  Presi- 
dent. 

A  slight  buotle  ensued  in  the  body  of  the 
court  as  the  gendarmes  advanced  to  make  a 
passage  for  our  exit ;  and  for  a  moment  I 
could  perceive  that  the  attention  of  the 
assembly  was  drawn  toward  us.  One  by 
one  we  descended  from  the  platform,  and, 
with  a  gendarme  on  either  side,  proceeded 
to  pass  out,  when  suddenly  the  deep,  mel- 
low voice  of  Oadoudal  called  aloud  : 

"Adieu,  my  friends,  adieu  !  If  we  are 
not  to  be  better  treated  than  our  prince,  we 
shall  never  see  you  again." 

"  Silence,  sir  ! "  cried  the  President, 
severely ;  and  then,  turning  toward  the 
bar  of  advocates,  he  continued,  "  If  that 
man  have  an  advocate  in  this  court,  it 
would  well  become  him  to  warn  his  client 
that  such  continued  insult  to  the  tribunal 
can  only  prejudice  his  cause." 

"I  have  none,  and  I  wish  for  none," 
replied  George,  in  a  tone  of  defiance. 
"This  mockery  is  but  the  first  step  of  the 
guillotine,  and  I  can  walk  it  without  assist- 
ance." 

.  A  renewed  call  of  "  silence  ! "  and  a 
deep  murmur  through  the  assembly,  was 
all  I  heard,  as  the  door  of  the  court 
opened    and    closed    behind    us.     As    we 


inarched  along  a  low  vaulted  corridor,  the 
sounds  of  the  court  grew  fainter  and 
fainter  ;  and  at  last  the  echoes  of  our  own 
steps  were  the  only  noises. 

The  room  to  which  we  were  conducted 
was  a  small  whitewashed  chamber,  around 
which  ran  a  bench  of  unpainted  wood. 
A  deal  table  stood  in  the  center,  on  which 
was  a  common-looking  earthenware  jar  of 
water,  and  some  tin  goblets.  The  window 
was  several  feet  from  the  ground,  and 
strongly  barred  with  iron. 

"La  salle  d'attente  is  gloomy  enough," 
said  one  of  my  companions,  "and  yet 
some  of  us  may  be  very  sorry  to  leave  it." 

"  Not  I,  at  least,"  cried  the  other,  reso- 
lutely. "  The  basket  beneath  the  guillo- 
tine will  be  an  easier,  couch  than  I  have 
slept  on  these  three  months." 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

the  "  Calais  de  justice. " 

"It  will  go  hard  with  Moreau  to-day," 
said  the  elder  of  the  two  prisoners — a  large, 
swarthy-looking  Breton,  in  the  dress  of  a 
sailor  ;  "the  Consul  hates  him." 

"  Whom  does  he  not  hate  ?  "  said  the 
younger— a  slight  and  handsome  youth. 
"Whom  does  he  not  hate  that  ever  rivaled 
him  in  glory  ?  What  love  did  he  bear  to 
Kleber  or  Desaix  ?  " 

"It  is  false,"  said  I  fiercely.  "Bona- 
parte's greatness  stands  far  too  high  to  feel 
such  rivalry  as  theirs — the  conqueror  of 
Italy  and  of  Egypt—" 

'"Is  a  Corsican,"  interrupted  the  elder. 

"And  a  tyrant,"  rejoined  the  other,  in 
the  same  breath. 

"These  words  become  you  well,"  said  I, 
bitterly  ;  "  would  that  no  stain  lay  on  my 
honor,  and  I  could  make  you  eat  them." 

"And  who  are  you  that  dare  to  speak 
thus  'i  "  said  the  younger  ;  "or  how  came 
one  like  you  mixed  up  with  men  whose 
hearts  were  in  a  great  cause,  and  who  came 
to  sell  their  lives  upon  it  ?  " 

"  I  tell  you,  boy,"  broke  in  the  elder, 
in  a  slow  and  measured  tone,  "  I  have  made 
more  stalwart  limbs  than  thine  bend,  and 
stronger  joints  crack,  for  less  than  thou 
hast  ventured  to  tell  us  ;  but  sorrow  and 
suffering  arc  hard  masters,  and  1  can  bear 
more  now  than  I  was  wont  to  do.  Let  us 
have  no  more  words." 

As  he  spoke,  he  leaned  his  head  upon  his 
hand,  and  turned  toward  the  wall  ;  the 
other,  too,  sat  down  in  a  corner  of  the  cell, 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS/' 


383 


and  was  silent,  and  thus  we  remained  for 
hours  long. 

The  dreary  stillness,  made  more  depress- 
ing by  the  presence  ot'  the  two  prisoners, 

whose  deep-drawn  breathings  were  the 
only  sounds  they  uttered,  had  something 
unspeakably  sad  and  melancholy  in  it,  and 
more  than  once  I  felt  sorry  for  the  few 
words  I  had  spoken,  which  separated  bl 
whose  misfortunes  should  have  made  them 
brothers. 

A  confused  and  distant  hum,  swelling 
and  falling  at  intervals,  now  filled  the  air ; 
mid  gradually  I  could  distinguish  the 
shouts  of  people  at  a  distance.  This  in- 
creased as  at  came  nearer,  and  then  I  heard 
the  tramping  noise  of  many  feet,  as  of  a 
great  multitude  of  people  passing  in  the 
street  below,  and  suddenly  a  wild  cheer 
broke  forth — ''Vive  le  Consul!"  "Vive 
Bonaparte  1 "  followed  the  next  instant  by 
the  clanking  sound  of  a  cavalry  escort, 
while  the  cry  grew  louder  and  louder,  and 
the  vivas  drowned  all  other  sounds. 

'•You  hear  them,  Gnillanme,  you  hear 
them,"  said  the  sailor  to  th'e  other  prisoner. 
"  That  shout  is  our  death-cry.  Bonaparte 
comes  not  here  to-day  but  to  see  his  judges 
do  his  bidding." 

"What  care  I  ?"  said  the  other,  fierce- 
ly. "The  guillotine  or  the  sabre,  the  axe 
or  the  bayonet — it  is  all  one.  We  knew 
>vhat  must  come  of  it." 

The  door  opened  as  he  spoke,  and  a  gref- 
fier  of  the  tribunal  appeared  with  four  gen- 
darmes. 

"Come,  Messieurs,"  said  he,  "the  court 
is  waiting  for  you." 

"And  how  go  matters  without,  sir?" 
said  the  elder,  in  an  easy  tone. 

"Badly  for  the  prisoners,"  said  the  gref- 
fier,  shaking  his  head  ;  "  Monsieur  Moreau, 
the  general's  brother,  has  clone  much  injury 
— he  has  insulted  the  Consul. " 

"Bravely  done!"  cried  the  younger 
man,  with  enthusiasm.  "It  is  well  he 
should  hear  truth  one  day,  though  the 
tongue  that  uttered  it  should  be  cold  the 
next." 

"Move  on,  sir,"  said  the  grefner.  sternly. 
"Not  you,"  added  he,  as  I  pressed  forward 
after  the  rest.    "Your time  has  not  come." 

"  Would  that  it  had,"  said  I,  as  the  door 
closed  upon  me,  and  I  was  left  in  total 
solitude. 

The  day  was  over,  and  the  evening  al- 
ready late,  when  a  turnkey  appeared,  and 
desired  me  to  follow  him.  A  moody  in- 
difference to  everything  had  settled  on  me, 
and  I  never  spoke,  as  I  walked  behind  him 
down  corridor  after  corridor,  and  across  a 
court,  into  a  large,  massive-looking  build- 


ing,  whose  grated  windows  and  strongly- 
barred  doors  reminded  me  of  the  Temple. 

'•  Here  is  your  cell,"  said  I  d\ .  as 

he  unlocked  a  low  door  oear  the  entrance. 

"It  is  gloomy  enough,"  said  I,  with  a 
sad  smile. 

••  And  yel  many  have  shed  bears  to  leave 
it  before  now  ,"  rejoined  h< ,  v,  Ltfa  a  sa 
twinkle  of  hi    small  •" 

I  -was  glad  v.  hen  bhe  hoarse  crash  of  i  In- 
closed door  told  me  1  was  aloni ,  and  I 
threw  myself  upon  my  bed  and  buried  my 
face  in  my  hands. 

There  is  a  sbate  which  is  not  sleep,  and 
yet  is  akin  to  if,  into  which  grief  can  bring 
us — a  hail'  dreary  stupor,  -where  onlj 
rows  are  felt,  and  even  they  come  dulled 
and.  blunted,  as  if  time  and  years  had  soft- 
ened down  their  sting.  But  no  ray  of 
hope  shines  there — a  dreary  waste,  without 
a  star  ;  the  cold,  dark  sea,  boundless  and 
bleak,  is  not  more  saddening  than  life  then 
seems  before  us.  There  is  neither  path  to 
follow  nor  goal  to  reach,  and  an  apathy 
worse  than  death  creep's  over  all  our  facul- 
ties ;  and  yet  when  we  awake  we  wish  for 
this  again.  Into  this  state  I  sank,  and 
when  morning  came  felt  sorry  that  the 
light  should  shine  into  my  narrow  cell,  and 
rouse  me  from  my  stupor.  When  the 
turnkey  entered  to  bring  me  breakfast.  I 
turned  toward  the  wall,  and  trembled  lest 
he  should  speak  to  me  ;  and  it  was  with  a 
strange  thrill  I  heard  the  door  close  as  he 
went  out.  The  abandonment  to  one's  sor- 
row— that  daily,  hourly  indulgence  in  grief, 
which  the  uncheered  solitude  of  a  prison 
begets — soon  brings  the  mind  to  the  narrow 
range  of  one  or  two  topics.  With  the 
death  of  hope  all  fancy  and  imagination 
perish — the  springs  of  d'  speculation  are 
dried  up — and  ever-  "...mlty  bent  toward 
one  point — the  reason,  like  a  limb  unexer- 
cised, wastes  and  pints,  and  becomes  para- 
lyzed. 

Now  and  then  the  thought  would  flash 
across  me,  "  What  if  tins  were  madness  ?" 
and  I  shuddered  not  at  the  thought :  such 
had  my  prison  made  me. 

Four  days  and  nights  passed  over  thus — 
a  long,  monotonous  dream,  in  which  I 
counted  not  the  time,  and  I  lay  upon  my 
straw-bed  watching  the  expiring  light  of 
the  candle  with  that  strange  interestone  at- 
taches to  everything  within  the  limits  of  a 
prison-cell.  The  flame  waned  and  flicker- 
ed :  now  lighting  up  for  a  second  the  cold 
gray  walls,  scratched  with  many  a  pris- 
oner's name ;  now  subsiding,  it  threw 
strange  and  fitful  shapes  upon  them — fig- 
ures that  seemed  to  move  and  to  beckon  to 
each  other — goblin  outlines,  wild  and  fan- 


384 


CHARLES  LEVERS    WORK'S. 


ciful  ;  then  came  a  bright  flash  as  the  wick 
fell,  and  all  was  dark. 

"  If  the  dead  do  but  sleep  !  "  was  the  first 
thought  that  crossed  my  mind  as  the  gloom 
of  total  night  wrapped  every  object  about 
me,  and  a  stillness  most  appalling  prevail- 
ed. (Suddenly  1  heard  the  sounds  of  a  heavy 
bolt  withdrawn,  and  a  door  opening, 'then 
a  low,  rushing  noise,  like  wind  blowing 
through  a  narrow  corridor,  and  at  last  the 
marching  sounds  of  feet,  and  the  accents  of 
men  speaking  together ;  nearer  and  nearer 
they  came,  and  at  length  halted  at  the  door 
of  my  cell.  A  cold,  faint  feeling — the  .sick- 
ness of  the  heart — crept  over  me  ;  the  hour 
• — the  sounds  reminded  me  of  what  so  often 
I  had  heard  men  speak  of  in  the  Temple, 
and  the  dread  of  assassination  made  me  trem- 
ble from  head  to  foot.  The  light  streamed 
from  beneath  the  door,  and  reached  to  my 
bed  ;  and  I  calculated  the  number  of  steps 
it  would  take  before  they  approached  me. 
The  key  grated  in  the  lock,  and  the  door 
opened  slowly,  and  three  men  stood  at  the 
entrance.  I  sprang  up  wildly  to  my  feet — 
a  sudden  impulse  of  self-defense  seized  me 
— and,  with  a  wild  shout  for  them  to  come 
on,  I  rushed  forward  ;  my  foot,  however, 
caught  the  angle  of  the  iron  bedstead,  and 
I  fell  headlong  and  senseless  to  the  ground. 
Some  interval  elapsed  ;  and,  when  next  1 
felt  consciousness,  I  was  lying  full  length 
on  my  bed — the  cell  lit  up  by  two  candles 
on  the  table,  beside  which  sat  two  men, 
their  heads  bent  eagerly  over  a  mass  of  pa- 
pers before  them.  Oue  was  an  old  and 
venerable-looking  man,  his  white  hair  and 
long  queue  so  bespeaking  him  ;  he  wore  a 
loose  cloth  cloak  that  covered  his  entire  fig- 
ure, but  I  could  see  that  a  brass  scabbard  of 
a  sword  projected  beneath  it ;  on  the  chair 
beside  him,  too,  there  lay  a  foraging  cap. 
Theother,much  younger, though  still  not  in 
youth,  was  a  thin,  pale,  careworn  man  ;  his 
forehead  was  high,  and  strongly  marked  ; 
and  there  was  an  intensity  and  determination 
in  his  brow  and  about  the  angles  of  his 
mouth  most  striking ;  he  was  dressed  m 
black,  with  deep  ruffles  at  his  wrist. 

"  It  is  quite  clear,  general,"  said  he,  in  a 
iow  and  measured  voice,  where  each  word 
fell  with  perfect  distinctness — "  it  is  quite 
clear  that  they  can  press  a  conviction  here  if 
they  will.  The  allegations  are  so  contrived 
as  rather  to  indicate  complicity  than  ac- 
tually establish  it.  The  defense  in  such 
cases  has  to  combat  shadows,  not  overturn 
facts  ;  and  believe  me,  a  procureur-general, 
aided  by  a  police,  is  a  dexterous  enemy." 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  it,"  said  the  Gene- 
ral, rapidly,  "but  what  are  tbe  weak- 
points  ?— where  is  he  most  assailable  ?  " 


"  Everywhere," said  the  other.  "To  b^ 
gin-  the  secret  information  of  the  outbreak 
between  Lord  Whitworth  and  the  Consul— 
the  frequent  meetings  with  the  Marquis  De 
Beauvais — the  false  report  to  the  chef  de 
police — the  concealment  of  this  abbe — By- 
t  be-by,  I  am  not  quite  clear  about  that  part 
of  the  case;  why  have  the  prosecution  not 
brought  this  abbe  forward?  Ii.  is  plain 
they  have  his  evidence,  and  can  produce 
him  if  they  will  :  and  I  see  no  other  name 
in  the  act  of  accusation  than  our  old  ac- 
quaintance, Mehee  de  la  Touche — " 

"The  villain  !"  cried  the  General,  with 
a  stamp  of  indignation,  while  a  convulsive 
spasm  seemed  to  shake  every  liher  of  his 
frame. 

"Mehee  de  la  Touche  !"  said  I  to  my- 
self. "I  have  heard  that  name  before;" 
and  like  a  lightning  flash  it  crossed  my  mind 
that  such  was  the  name  of  the  man  Marie 
de  Meudon  charged  me  with  knowing. 

"  But  still,"  said  the  General, ' '  what  can 
they  make  of  all  tbese  ?  that  of  indiscretion, 
folly,  breach  of  discipline,  if  you  will  ; 
but—" 

"  Wait  a  little,"  said  the  other,  quietly  ; 
"  then  comes  the  night  of  the  chateau,  in 
which  he  is  found  among  the  Chouan  par- 
ty in  their  very  den,  taking  part  in  the  de- 
fense." 

"  No,  no  !  Lamoriciere,  who  commanded 
the  cuirassiers,  can  establish  the  fact  be- 
yond question — that  Burke  took  no  part  in 
the  affray,  and  delivered  his  sword  at  once 
when  called  on." 

"  At  least  they  found  him  there,  and  on 
his  person  the  brevet  of  colonel,  signed  by 
Monsieur  himself." 

"  Of  that  I  can  give  no  explanation,"  re- 
plied the  Genera]  ;  "  but  I  am  in  possession 
of  such  information  as  can  account  for  his 
presence  at.  the  chateau,  and  establish  his 
innocence  on  that  point." 

"  Indeed  !  "  cried  the  advocate,  for  such 
he  was  ;  "with  that  much  may  be  done." 

"Unhappily,  however,"  rejoined  the 
General,  "  if  such  a  disclosure  is  not  neces- 
sary to  save  his  life,  I  cannot  venture  to 
give  it ;  the  ruin  of  another  must  follow  the 
explanation." 

"  Without  it  he  is  lost,"  said  the  advo- 
cate, solemnly. 

"And  would  not  accept  of  life  with  it," 
said  I,  boldly,  as  I  started  up  in  my  bed, 
and  looked  fixedly  at  them. 

The  general  sprang  back,  astonished  and 
speechless  ;  but  the  advocate,  with  more 
command  over  his  emotions,  cast  his  eyes 
upon  the  paper  before  him,  and  quickly 
asked,  "  And  the  commission — how  do  you 
account  for  that  ?" 


TO M  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


385 


"  It  was  offered  to  and  refused  by  me.  He 
who  made  the  proposal  forgot  it  on  my 
table,  and  I  was  about  to  restore  it  when  I 
was  made  prisoner." 

'-  What  condition  was  attached  to  your 
acceptance  of  it  ?  " 

"Some  vague,  indistinct  proposals  were 
made  to  me  to  join  a  conspiracy  of  which  I 
was  neither  told  the  object  nor  intentions. 
Indeed,  I  stopped  any  disclosure  by  reject- 
ing the  bribe.'' 

"  Who  made  these  same  proposals  ?  " 

"  I  shall  not  tell  his  name." 

"No  matter,"  said  the  advocate,  care- 
lessly ;  "  it  was  the  Marquis  de  Beauvais  ;" 
and  then,  as  if  affecting  to  write,  I  saw  his 
sharp  eyes  glance  over  toward  me,  while  a 
smile  of  gratified  cunning  twitched  his  lip. 
"  You  will  have  no  objection  to  say  how 
first  you  became  acquainted  with  him  ?" 

The  dexterity  of  this  query,  by  repiying 
to  which  I  at  once  established  bis  preceding 
assumption,  completely  escaped  me,  and  I 
gave  an  account  of  my  first  meeting  with 
De  Beauvais,  without  ever  dreaming  of  the 
inferences  it  led  to. 

"An  unhappy  rencontre,  sir,"  said  the 
advocate,  as  if  musing;  "better  have 
finished  the  intimacy,  as  you  first  intended, 
at  the  Bois  de  Boulogne." 

"It  may  be  as  you  say,  sir,"  said  I,  ir- 
ritated by  the  flippancy  of  his  remark  ; 
"  but  perhaps  I  may  ask  the  name  of  the 
gentleman  who  takes  such  interest  in  my 
affairs,  and  by  what  right  he  meddles  in 
them  ?  " 

The  general  started  back  in  his  chair, 
and  was  about  to  speak,  when  the  advocate 
laid  his  hand  gently  on  his  arm  to  restrain 
him,  and,  in  a  voice  of  the  most  unruffled 
smoothness,  replied,  "  As  to  my  name,  sir, 
it  is  Laurence  Baillot ;  my  rank  is  simple 
avocat  to  the  Cours  et  Tribunaux  ;  and  the 
"right'  by  which  I  interfere  in  matters 
personal  to  you,  is  the  consideration  of  fifty 
louis  which  accompanied  this  brief." 

"And  my  name,  young  man,  is  Lieu- 
tenant-General d'Auvergne,"  said  the  old 
man,  proudly,  as  he  stared  me  steadfastly  in 
the  face.  I  arose  at  once,  and  saluted  the 
general  with  a  deep  and  respectful  obeis- 
ance. It  was  the  same  officer  who  reviewed 
us  at  the  Polytechnique  the  day  of  my  pro- 
motion. 

"You  are  now,  I  hope,  satisfied  with  the 
reasons  of  our  presence,  and  that  nothing 
but  considerations  of  your  interest  can  have 
influenced  our  visit."  said  the  avocat,  with 
calmness.  "Such  being  the  case,  sit  down 
here,  and  relate  all  you  can  of  your  life 
since  your  leaving  the  Polytechnique  ;  be 
brief,  too,  for  it  is  now  three  o'clock — the 
vol.  i. — 25 


court  opens  at  ten,  your  case  will  be  called 
the  second,  and  I  must  al  leasl  have  three 
hours  <if  sleep." 

The  general  pointed  to  a  seat  beside  him  ; 
I  sat  down,  and  withoul    an  a\    pro- 

ceeded to  give  a  rapid  account  of  all  my 
adventures  and  proceedings  to  the  hour 
we  were  then  assembled,  only  omitting  ail 
mention  of  Mademoiselle  de  Meudon'E 
name,  and  such  allusions  to  De  Beauvais  as 
might,  lead  to  his  crimination. 

The  advocate  wrote  down,  as  rapidly  as 
I  spoke  them,  the  principal  (h  tails  of  my 
history,  and  when  I  had  concluded,  perused 
the  notes  he  had  taken  with  a  quick  eye. 
"This  will  never  do,"  said  he,  with  more 
impatience  in  his  manner  than  I  had  yet 
witnessed;  "here  are  a  mass  of  circum- 
stances all  unexplained,  and  all  suspicious. 
It  is  now  entirely  a  question  of  the  feeling  of 
the  court.  The  charges,  if  pressed,  must  lead 
to  a  conviction.  Your  innocence,  sir,  may 
satisfy — indeed,  it  has  satisfied  General 
d'Auvergne,  who  else  had  not  been  here 
this  night,  but  the  proofs  are  not  before 
us."  He  paused  for  a  moment,  and  then 
continued  in  a  lower  tone,  addressing  him- 
self directly  to  the  general:  "We  must 
entreat  a  delay  ;  a  day — two  days,  certainly 
— will  establish  the  proofs  against  George 
and  his  accomplices  ;  they  will  be  con- 
demned and  executed  at  once.  It  is  most 
likely  that  the  court  will  not  recur  to  capi- 
tal punishment  again.  The  example  being 
made,  any  further  demonstration  will  be 
needless.  I  see  you  put  little  faith  in  this 
maneuver  ;  but  trust  me,  I  know  the  tem- 
per of  the  tribunal  ;  besides,  the  political 
stroke  has  already  succeeded.  Bonaparte 
has  conquered  all  his  enemies  ;  his  next 
step  will  be  to  profit  by  the  victory."  These 
words  were  riddles  to  me  at  the  time, 
though  the  day  soon  came  when  their  mean- 
ing was  palpable.  "  Yes,  two  days  will  do 
it,"  said  he,  confidently  raising  his  voice  as 
he  spoke;  "and  then,  whether  there  be  a 
hussar  the  more,  or  one  the  less,  m  France, 
will  little  trouble  the  current  of  events." 

"Then  how  to  obtain  the  lime— that  is 
the  question,"  said  the  General. 

"Oh,  we  shall  try  something  ;  there  can 
always  be  a  witness  to  be  called  ;  some  evi- 
dence all  essential  not  forthcoming  ;  some 
necessary  proof  not  quite  unraveled.  What 
if  we  summon  this  same  abbe  ?  The  court 
will  make  proclamation  for  him.  D'Ervan 
is  the  name  ?" 

"Yes  ;  but  if  by  so  doing  he  may  be  in- 
volved— " 

"  Fear  nothing  on  that  score  ;  he'll  never 
turn  up,  believe  me.  We  can  affect  to  show 
that  his  evidence  is  all  important.     Yes, 


386 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


we'll  make  the  Abbe  d'Ervan  our  first  wit- 
ness. Where  shall  we  say  he  resides  ? 
Rouen,  I  suppose,  will  do.  Yes,  Rouen." 
And  so,  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he 
continued  to  write.  "By  this,  you  per- 
ceive," he  remarked,  "we  shall  disconcert 
their  plans.  They  are  evidently  keeping 
this  abbe  up  for  some  greater  occasion  ; 
they  have  a  case  against  himself,  perhaps, 
in  which  the  proofs  are  not  yet  sufficient 
for  conviction.  We'll  trouble  their  game, 
and  they  may  be  glad  to  compromise  with 
us." 

The  general  looked  as  much  confounded 
as  myself  at  these  schemes  of  the  lawyer, 
but  we  both  were  silent. 

A  few  questions  more  followed,  to  which 
he  wrote  down  my  answers  as  I  gave  them, 
and  then  starting  up,  he  said,  "And  now, 
general,  I  must  hasten  home  to  bed.  Be 
ready,  at  all  events,  for  appearing  before 
the  tribunal,  Mr.  Burke  ;  at  ten  you  will 
be  called,  and  so  good-night."  He  bowed 
formally  to  me,  as  he  opened  the  door  to 
permit  the  general  to  pass  out  first. 

"I'll  follow  you  in  a  moment,"  said  the 
General,  while  he  closed  the  door  after  him, 
and  remained  behind  with  me  in  the  cell. 
"It  was  only  this  evening,  sir,"  said  he,  in 
a  low  voice,  "at  the  return  of  Madame 
Bonaparte  from  Boulogne,  that  Mademoi- 
selle de  Meudon  learned  you  were  not  at 
liberty.  She  has  made  me  acquainted  with 
the  cinmmstances  by  which  your  present 
risk  has  been  incurred,  and  has  put  me  in 
possession  of  wherewithal  to  establish  your 
innocence  as  regards  the  adventure  at  the 
Chateau  d  'Ancre.  This  disclosure,  if  it 
exculpates  you,  will  of  course  criminate 
her,  and  among  those,  too,  where  she  has 
been  received  and  admitted  on  terms  of  the 
closest  friendship.  The  natural  desire  to 
save  her  cousin's  life  will  not  cover  the  act 
by  which  so  horrible  a  conspiracy  might 
have  escaped  punishment.  Bonaparte 
never  forgives  !  Now,  I'm  in  possession  of 
this  proof,  and  if  you  demand  it,  it  shall 
be  in  your  keeping.  I  have  no  hesitation 
in  saying  that  the  other  charges  against 
you  can  easily  be  got  over — this  one  being 
refuted.     What  -do  you  say  ?  " 

"Nothing  could  make  me  accept  of  such 
an  exculpation,"  said  I,  resolutely;  "and 
were  it  offered  in  spite  of  me,  I'll  plead 
guilty  to  the  whole  act,  and  suffer  with  the 
rest." 

The  old  man's  eyes  glistened  with  pleas- 
ure, and  I  thought  I  saw  a  tear  fall  on  his 
cheek.  "Now,"  cried  he,  as  he  grasped 
my  hand  in  both  his — "now  I  feel  that 
you  are  innocent,  my  brave  boy,  and  come 
what  will,  I'll  stand'  by  you."     With  that 


he  hurried  from  the  cell,  and  followed  the 
advocate,  who  was  already  calling  with 
some  impatience  to  have  the  doors  unlock- 
ed. 

I  was  again  alone.      No,   not  alone— for 
in  my  narrow  cell  hope  was  with  me  now. 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

THE  "  TRIAL." 

So  doubtful  was  the  government  of  the 
day  in  what  way  the  people  of  Paris  would 
be  disposed  to  regard  the  trial  of  the  Chouan 
prisoners,  how  far  public  sympathy  might 
side  with  misfortune  and  heroism,  and  in 
what  way  they  would  regard  Moreau, 
whose  career  in  arms  so  many  had  witness- 
ed with  pride  and  enthusiasm,  that  for 
several  days  they  did  not  dare  to  strike  the 
decisive  blow  which  was  to  establish  their 
guilt,  but  advanced  with  slow  and  cautious 
steps,  gradually  accumulating  a  mass  of 
small  circumstances,  on  which  the  Moni- 
ieur  each  day  commented,  and  the  other 
journals  of  less  authority  expatiated,  as  if 
to  prepare  the  public  mind  for  further  and 
more  important  revelations. 

At  last,  however,  the  day  arrived  in 
which  the  mine  was  to  be  sprung.  The 
secret  police — whose  information  extended 
to  all  that  went  on  in  every  class  of  the 
capital,  and  who  knew  the  chit-chat  of  the 
highest  circles,  equally  as  they  did  the 
grumblings  of  the  Faubourg  St.  An- 
toine — pronounced  the  time  had  come 
when  the  fatal  stroke  might  no  longer  be 
withheld,  and  when  the  long-destined 
vengeance  should  descend  on  their  devoted 
heads. 

The  want  of  energy  on  the  part  of  the 
prosecution — the  absence  of  important 
witnesses,  and  of  all  direct  evidence  what- 
ever, which  marked  the  first  four  days  of 
the  trial,  had  infused  a  high  hope  and  a 
strong  sense  of  security  into  the  prisoners' 
hearts.  The  proofs  which  they  so  much 
dreaded,  and  of  whose  existence  they  well 
knew,  were  not  forthcoming  against  them. 
The  rumored  treachery  of  some  of  their 
party  began,  at  length,  to- lose  its  terror  for 
them — while  in  the  lax  and  careless  pro- 
ceedings of  the  procureur-general  they  saw, 
or  fancied  they  saw,  a  desire  on  the  part  of 
the  government  to  render  the  public  un- 
interested spectators  of  the'  scene,  and  thus 
prepare  the  way  for  an  acquittal,  while  no 
danger  of  any  excitement  existed. 

Such  was  the  state  of  matters  at  the  close 
of  the  fourth  day.     A  tiresome  and  desul • 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


387 


tory  discussion  on  some  merely  legal  question 
had  occupied  the  court  for  several  hours, 
and  many  of  the  spectators,  wearied  and 
tired  out,  had  gone  home  disappointed  in 
their  expectations,  and  secretly  resolving 
not  to  return  the  following  day. 

This  was  the  moment  for  which  the 
party  in  power  had  heen  waiting — the  in- 
terval of  false  security,  as  it  would  seem, 
when  all  danger  was  past,  and  no  longer 
any  apprehension  existed.  The  sudden 
shock  of  the  newly  discovered  proofs  would 
then  come  with  peculiar  force,  while,  no 
matter  how  rapid  any  subsequent  step 
might  be,  all  charge  of  precipitancy  or  un- 
due haste  had  been  disproved  by  the  tardy 
nature  of  the  four  first  days'  proceedings. 

For  the  change  of  scene  about  to  take 
place  an  early  edition  of  the  Moniteur  pre- 
pared the  public  ;  and  by  daybreak  the 
walls  of  Paris  were  placarded  with  great 
announcements  of  the  discoveries  made  by 
the  government —how,  by  their  untiring 
efforts,  the  whole  plot,  which  was  to  deluge 
France  with  blood,  and  subvert  the  glo- 
rious institutions  of  freedom  they  had 
acquired  by  the  revolution,  had  been  laid 
open — new  and  convincing  evidence  of  the 
guilt  of  the  Chouans  had  turned  up — and 
a  frightful  picture  of  anarchy  and  social 
disorganization  was  displayed,  all  of  which 
was  to  originate  in  an  effort  to  restore  the 
Bourbons  to  the  throne  of  France. 

While,  therefore,  the  galleries  of  the 
court  were  crowded  to  suffocation  at  an 
early  hour,  and  every  avenue  leading  to 
the  tribunal  crammed  with  people,  anxious 
to  be  present  at  this  eventful  crisis,  the 
prisoners  took  their  places  on  the  "  bench 
of  the  accused,"  totally  unaware  of  the 
reason  of  the  excitement  they  witnessed, 
and  strangely  puzzled  to  conceive  what 
unknown  circumstance  had  reinvested  the 
proceedings  with  a  new  interest. 

As  I  took  my  place  among  the  rest,  I 
stared  with  surprise  at  the  scene  —  the 
strange  contrast  between  the  thousands 
there  whose  strained  eyes  and  feverish  faces 
betokened  the  highest  degree  of  excitement, 
and  that  little  group  on  which  every  look 
wras  turned  —  calm,  and  even  cheerful. 
There  sat  George  Cadoudal  in  the  midst  of 
them,  his  hands  clasped  in  those  at  either 
side  of  him  ;  his  strongly-marked  features 
perfectly  at  rest,  and  his  eyes  bent  with  a 
steady  stare  on  the  bench  where  the  judges 
were  seated.  Moreau  was  not  present,  nor 
did  I  see  some  of  the  Chouans  whom  I  re- 
membered on  the  former  day. 

The  usual  formal  proclamation  of  the 
court  being  made,  silence  was  called  by  the 
crier — a  useless  precaution,  as  throughout 


that  vast  assembly  not  a  whisper  was  to  be 
heard.  A  conversation  of  some  minutes 
took  place  between  the  procureur  and  the 
counsel  tor  the  prisoners,  in  which  I  recog- 
nized the  voice  of  Monsieur  Baillot,  my 
own  advocate,  which  was  interrupted  by 
the  president,  desiring  thai  the  proceedings 
should  commence. 

The  procureur-general  bowed,  and  took 
his  seat,  while  the  President,  turning  to- 
ward George,  said, 

"George  Cadoudal.  you  have  hitherto 
persisted  in  a  course  of  blank  denial  re- 
garding every  circumstance  of  the  con- 
spiracy with  which  you  are  charged.  You 
have  asserted  your  ignorance  of  persons  and 
places  with  which  we  are  provided  with 
proof  to  show  you  are  well  acquainted. 
You  have  neither  accounted  for  your  pres- 
ence in  suspected  situations,  nor  satisfacto- 
rily shown  what  were  the  objects  of  your 
intimacy  with  suspected  individuals.  The 
court  now  desires  to  ask  you  whether,  at 
this  stage  of  the  proceedings,  you  wish  to 
offer  more  explicit  revelations,  or  explain 
any  of  the  dubious  events  of  your  career  ?  " 

"  I  will  answer  any  question  you  put 
to  me,"  replied  George,  sternly;  "but 
1  have  lived  too  long  in  another  country 
not  to  have  learned  some  of  its  usages,  and 
I  feel  no  desire  to  become  my  own  accuser. 
Let  him  there"  (he  pointed  to  the  pro- 
cureur-general) "do  his  office — he  is  the 
paid  and  salaried  assailant  of  the  inno- 
cent." 

"I  call  upon  the  court,"  said  the  Pro- 
cureur, rising  ;  when  he  was  suddenly  in- 
terrupted by  the  President,  saying,  "We 
will  protect  you,  Monsieur  le  Procureur. 
And  once  again  we  would  admonish  the 
accused,  that  insolence  to  the  authorities  of 
this  court  is  but  a  sorry  plea  in  vindication 
of  his  innocence,  and  shall  be  no  recom- 
mendation to  our  mercy." 

"  Your  mercy  ! "  said  George,  in  a  voice 
of  scorn  and  sarcasm.  "  Who  ever  heard 
of  a  tiger's  benevolence  or  a  wolf's  charity  ? 
And  even  if  you  wished  it,  he  whose  slaves 
you  are — " 

"I  call  upon  you  to  be  silent,"  said  an 
advocate,  rising  from  a  bench  directly  be- 
hind him.  "Another  interruption  of  this 
kind,  and  I  shall  abandon  the  defense." 

"What  !  "  said  George,  turning  quickly 
round  and  staring  at  him  with  a  look  of 
withering  contempt,  "and have  they  bought 
you  over  too  ?  " 

"Call  the  first  witness,"  said  the  Presi- 
dent, and  an  indistinct  murmur  was  heard, 
and  a  slight  confusion  seen  to  agitate  the 
crowd,  as  the  gendarmes  opened  a  path  to- 
ward the  witness  bench  :  and  then  I  saw 


d88 


CHARLES  LEVER' 8    WORKS. 


two  men  carrying  something  between  them, 
which  I  soon  perceived  to  be  a  num.  The 
legs,  which  were  alone  apparent,  hung 
down  listlessly  like  Ihose  of  a  corpse,  and 
one  arm,  which  fell  over  the  shoulder  of 
the  hearer,  moved  to  and  fro,  as  they  went, 
like  the  limb  of  a  dead  man.  Every  neck- 
was  stretched  from  the  galleries  ahove,  and 
along  the  benches  beneath,  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  mysterious  figure,  which 
seemed  like  an  apparition  from  the  grave 
come  to  give  evidence.  His  face,  too,  was 
concealed  by  a  handkerchief ;  and  as  he 
was  placed  in  a  chair  provided  for  the  pur- 
pose, the  assistants  stood  at  either  side  to 
support  his  drooping  figure. 

"  Let  the  witness  be  sworn,"  said  the 
President ;  and,  with  the  aid  of  an  officer 
of  the  court,  a  thin,  white  hand  was  held 
up  on  which  the  flesh  seemed  almost  trans- 
parent from  emaciation.  A  low,  muttering 
sound  followed,  and  the  President  spoke 
again  :  "  Let  the  witness  be  uncovered. 
George  Cadoudal,  advance  !  " 

As  the  hardy  Chouan  stepped  forward 
the  handkerchief  fell  from  the  witness's 
face,  while  his  head  slowly  turned  round 
toward  the  prisoner.  A  cry,  like  the  yell 
of  a  wounded  animal,  broke  from  the  stout 
Breton,  as  he  bounded  into  the  air  and 
held  up  both  his  arms  to  their  full  height. 
"  Toi,  toil  "  screamed  he,  in  accents  that 
seemed  the  very  last  of  a  heart  wrung  to 
agony,  while  he  leaned  forward  and  fixed 
his  eyes  on  him,  till  the  very  orbs  seemed 
bursting  from  their  sockets.  "  Out,"  added 
he,  in  a  lower  tone,  but  one  which  was  felt 
in  every  corner  of  that  crowded  assemblage 
— "oui,  e'est  lui."  Then  clasping  his  trem- 
bling hands  together,  as  his  knees  bent 
beneath  him,  he  turned  his  eyes  upward, 
and  said,  "  Le  bon  Dieu,  that  makes  men's 
hearts  and  knows  their  thoughts,  deals  with 
us  as  he  will  ;  and  I  must  have  sinned 
sorely  toward  him  when  such  punishment  as 
this  has  fallen  upon  me.  Oh!  my  brother, 
my  child,  my  own  Bouvet  de  Lozier." 

"  Bouvet  de  Lozier  ! "  cried  the  other 
prisoners,  with  a  shout  wild  as  madness  it- 
self, while  every  man  sprang  forward  to 
look  at  him.  But  already  the  head  had 
fallen  back  over  the  chair;  the  limbs 
stretched  out  rigidly,  and  the  arm  fell 
heavily  down.  "  lie  is  dying  !  "  "  He  is 
dead  !  "  were  the  exclamations  of  the  crowd, 
and  a  general  cry  for  a  doctor  was  heard 
around.  Several  physicians  were  soon  at 
his  side,  and  by  the  aid  of  restoratives  he 
was  gradually  brought  back  to  animation, 
but  cold  and  speechless  he  lay,  unable  to 
understand  anything,  and  was  obliged  to 
be  conveyed  back  again  to  his  bed. 


It  was  some  time  before  the  excitement 
of  this  harrowing  scene  was  over  ;  and  when 
order  a1  length  was  restored  in  the  court, 
George  Cadoudal  was  seen  seated,  as  at  first, 
oh  the  bench,  while  around  him  his  faith- 
ful followers  were  grouped.  Like  children 
round  a  beloved  father,  some  leaned  on  his 
neck,  others  clasped  his  knees — some  cov- 
ered his  hands  with  kisses,  and  called  him 
by  the  most  endearing  names.  But  though 
he  moved  his  head  from  side  to  side,  and 
tried  to  smile  upon  them,  a  cold  vacancy 
was  in  his  face  ;  his  lips  were  parted,  and 
his  exc^  stared  wildly  before  him  ;  his  very 
hair  stood  out  from  his  forehead,  on  which 
the  big  drops  of  sweat  were  seen. 

"Father,  dear  father,  it  is  but  one  who 
is  false— see,  look  how  many  of  your  chil- 
dren are  true  to  you — think  on  us  who  are 
with  you  here,  and  will  go  with  you  to 
death  without  shrinking." 

"  He  is  but  a  child,  too,  father,  and  they 
have  stolen  away  his  reason  from  him,"  said 
another. 

"Yes,  they  have  brought  him  to  this 
by  suffering,"  cried  a  third,  as  with  a 
clenched  hand  he  menaced  the  bench  where 
sat  the  judges. 

"  Order  in  the  court!"  cried  the  Presi- 
dent ;  but  the  command  was  reiterated 
again  and  again  before  silence  could  be 
obtained  ;  and  when  again  I  could  observe 
the  proceedings,  I  saw  the  procureur-gene- 
ral  addressing  the  tribunal,  to  demand  a 
postponement,  in  consequence  of  the  illness 
of  the  last  witness,  whose  testimony  was 
pronounced  all-conclusive. 

A  discussion  took  place  on  the  subject 
between  the  counsel  for  the  prisoners  and 
the  prosecution,  and  at  length  it  was  ruled 
that  this  trial  should  not  be  proceeded  with 
till  the  following  morning. 

"  We  are,  however,  prepared  to  go  on 
with  the  other  cases,"  said  the  Procureur, 
"if  the  court  will  permit." 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  President. 

"In  that  case,"  continued  the  Procu- 
reur, "  we  shall  call  on  the  accused  Thomas 
Burke,  lieutenant  of  the  Ituitihne  hussars, 
now  present."  For  some  minutes  nothing 
more  could  be  heard,  for  the  crowded  gal- 
leries, thronged  with  expectant  hundreds, 
began  now  to  empty.  Mine  was  a  name 
without  interest  for  any  :  and  the  thronged 
masses  rose  to  depart,  while  their  over-ex- 
cited minds  fouml  vent  in  words  which 
drowned  all  else.  It  was  in  vain  silence 
and  order  were  proclaimed — the  proceed- 
ings had  lost  all  interest,  and  with  it  all 
respect,  and  for  full  ten  minutes  the  uproar 
lasted.  Meanwhile,  M.  Baillot,  taking  his 
place  at  my  side,  produced  some  most  volu- 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


389 


minous  papers,  in  which  lie  soon  became 
deeply  engaged.  I  turned  one  look  through- 
out the  now  almost  deserted  seats,  but  not 
one  face  there  was  known  to  me.  The  f<  \\ 
who  remained  seemed  to  slay  rather  from 
indolence  than  any  other  motive,  as  liny 
lounged  Dver  the  vacant  benches,  and 
yawned  listlessly  ;  and  much  as  I  dreaded 
the  gaze  of  that  appalling  multitude,  I 
sickened  at  the  miserable  isolation  of  my 
lot,  and  felt  overwhelmed  to  think  that  for 
me  there  was  not  one  who  should  pity  or 
regret  my  fall.  At  last  order  was  estab- 
lished in  the  court,  arid  the  procureur 
opened  the  proceeding  by  reciting  tiie  act 
of  my  accusation,  in  which  all  the  circum- 
stances already  mentioned  by  my  advocate 
were  dwelt  and  commented  on  with  the 
habitual  force  and  exaggeration  of  bar  ora- 
tory. The  address  was  short,  however, 
scarcely  fifteen  minutes  long  ;  and  by  the 
tone  of  the  speaker,  and  the  manner  of  the 
judges,  I  guessed  that  my  case  excited  little 
or  no  interest  to  the  prosecution,  either 
from  my  own  humble  and  insignificant 
position,  or  the  certainty  they  felt  of  my  ! 
conviction. 

My  advocate  rose  to  demand  a  delay,  even  j 
a  short   one,    pleading  most   energetically 
against  the  precipitancy  of  a  proceeding  in  J 
which  the  indictment  was  but  made  known 
the   day   previous.      The    president  inter-  I 
rupted  him  roughly,  and  with  an  assurance  j 
that  no  circumstance  short  of  the  necessity 
to   produce  some  important  evidence  not 
then  forthcoming,    would    induce  him  to 
grant  a  postponement. 

M.  Baillot  replied  at  once  :  "Such,  sir, 
is  our  case  ;  a  witness,  whose  evidence  is  of 
the  highest  moment,  is  not  to  be  found  ;  a 
day  or  two  might  enable  us  to  obtain  his 
testimony  ;  it  is  upon  this  we  ground  our 
hope,  our  certainty  of  an  acquittal.  The 
court  will  not,  I  am  certain,  refuse  its 
clemency  in  such  an  emergency  as  this  ?  " 

"  Where  is  this  same  witness  to  be  found  ? 
Is  he  in  Paris  ? — is  he  in  France  ?" 

"We  hope  in  Paris,  Monsieur  le  Presi- 
dent. " 

"And  his  name  ?  " 

"The  Abbe. d'Ervan." 

A  strange  murmur  ran  along  the  bench 
of  judges  at  the  words,  and  I  could  see  that 
some  of  them  smiled  in  spite  of  their  ef- 
forts to  seem  grave,  while  the  procureur- 
general  did  not  scruple  to  laugh  outright. 

"I  believe,  sir,"  said  he,  addressing  the 
president,  "  that  I  can  accommodate  my 
learned  brother  with  this  so-much-desired 
testimony  perhaps  more  speedily — I  will 
not  say  than  he  wishes — but  '  than  he 
expects. " 


"  How  is  this  ?  "  said  my  advocate,  in  a 
whisper  to  me;  "they  have  this  abbe 
then     lias  he  turned  against  bis  party  ?" 

'•1  know  nothing  of  him,"  said  I,  reck- 

lesd\   ;    ••  falsehood    and    treaehi 
rife  lure,  that   it  can  well  be  a-  you   - 

"The   Abbe    d'Ervan,"    called   a  loud 

\oiee.  and   with    the  Word.-    the   well-known 

figure  moved   rapidly  from  the  crowd  and 

mounted  the  steps  of  the  platform. 

"You  are  lost."  said  Baillot,  in  a  low, 
solemn  voice.  "  It.  is  Mehee  de  la  Touche 
himself!" 

Had  the  words  of  my  sentence  rung  in  my 
ears  I  had  not  felt  them  more  ;  that  name, 
by  some  secret  spell,  had  such  terror  in  it. 

"  You  know  the  prisoner  before  you, 
sir  ?  "  said  the  President,  turning  toward 
the  abbe. 

Before  he  could  reply,  my  advocate  broke 
in  : 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,  but  previous  to  the 
examination  of  this  respectable  witness,  I 
would  ask  under  what  name  he  is  to  figure 
in  this  process  ?  Is  he  here  the  Abbe 
d'Ervan,  the  agreeable  and  gifted  fre- 
quenter of  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  ? — is 
he  the  Chevalier  Maupret,  the  companion 
and  associate  of  the  house  of  Bourbon  ? — 
or  is  he  the  no  less  celebrated  and  esteemed 
citizen  Mehee  de  la  Touche,  whose  active 
exertions  have  been  of  such  value  in  these 
eventful  times,  that  we  should  think  no 
recompense  sufficient  for  them,  had  he  not 
been  paid  by  both  parties  ?  Yes,  sir,*' 
continued  he,  in  an  altered  tone,  "  1  repeat 
it,  we  are  prepared  to  show  that  this  man 
is  unworthy  of  all  credit ;  that  he  whose 
testimony  the  court  now  calls,  is  a  hired 
spy  and  bribed  calumniator — the  instigator 
to  the  treason  he  prosecutes — the  designer 
of  the  schemes  for  which  other  men's 
blood  has  paid  the  penalty.  Is  this  abbe 
without  and  gendarme  within  to  be  at 
large  in  the  world,  ensnaring  the  unsus- 
pecting youth  of  France  by  subtle  and 
insidious  doctrines  disguised  under  the 
semblance  of  after-dinner  gayety  ?  Are  we 
to  feel  that  on  such  evidence  as  this,  the 
fame,  the  honor,  the  life  of  every  man  is  to 
rest  ?  He  who  earns  his  livelihood  by 
treason,  and  whose  wealth  is  gathered  in 
the  bloody  sawdust  beneath  the  guillo- 
tine! " 

"We  shall  not  hear  these  observations 
longer,"  said  the  President,  with  an  accent 
of  severity.  "  YTou  may  comment  on  the 
evidence  of  the  witness  hereafter,  and,  if 
you  are  able  to  do  so,  disprove  it.  His 
character  is  under  the  protection  of  the 
court." 

"No,     sir,"    said    the    advocate,    with 


390 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


energy,  "  no  court,  however  high — no  tri- 
bunal beneath  that  of  Heaven  itself,  whose 
decrees  we  dare  not  question— can  throw  a 
shield  over  a  man  like  this.  There  arc 
crimes  which  stain  the  nation  they  occur 
in — which,  happening  in  our  age,  make 
men  sorry  for  their  generation,  and  wish 
they  had  lived  in  other  times." 

"  Once  more,  sir,  I  command  you  to 
desist,"  interrupted  the  President. 

"  If  I  dare  to  dictate  to  the  honorable 
court,"  said  the  so-called  Abbe,  in  an 
accent  of  the  most  honeyed  sweetness,  and 
with  a  smile  of  the  most  winning  expres- 
sion, "  I  would  ask  permission  for  the 
learned  gentleman  to  proceed.  These 
well-arranged  paragraphs,  this  indignation 
got  by  heart,  must  have  vent,  since  they're 
paid  for  ;  and  it  would  save  the  tribunal 
the  time  which  must  be  consumed  in  lis- 
tening to  them  hereafter." 

"  If,"  said  the  advocate,  "  the  coolness 
and  indifference  to  blood  which  the  heads- 
man exhibits,  be  a  proof  of  guilt  in  the 
victim  before  him,  I  could  congratulate 
the  prosecution  on  their  witness.  '  But," 
cried  he,  in  an  accent  of  wild  excitement, 
"  great  Heavens  !  are  we  again  fallen  on 
such  times  as  to  need  atrocity  like  this  ? 
Is  the  terrible  ordeal  of  blood  through 
which  we  have  passed  to  be  renewed  once 
more  ?  Is  the  accusation  to  be  hoarded, 
the  calumnious  evidence  secreted,  the 
charge  held  back,  till  the  scaffold  is  ready  ? 
— and  then  the  indictment,  the  slander, 
the  sentence,  and  the  death  to  follow  on 
one  another  like  the  flash  and  the  thun- 
der ?  Is  the  very  imputation  of  having 
heard  from  a  Bourbon  to  bear  its  prestige 
of  sudden  death  ?  " 

"  Sdence,  sir,"  cried  the  President,  to 
whom  the  allusion  to  the  Due  D'Enghien 
was  peculiarly  offensive,  and  who  saw  in 
the  looks  of  the  spectators  with  what  force 
it  told.  "  You  know  the  prisoner  ?  "  said 
he,  turning  toward  D'Ervan. 

"I  have  that  honor,  sir,"  said  he,  Avith 
a  bland  smile. 

"State  to  the  court  the  place  and  the 
occasion  of  your  first  meeting  him." 

"If  I  remember  correctly,  it  was  in  the 
Palais  Royal,  at  Beauvilliers's.  There  was 
a  meeting  of  some  of  the  Chouan  party 
arranged  for  that  evening,  but  from  some 
accident  only  three  or  four  were  present. 
The  sous-lieutenant,  however,  was  one." 

"  Repeat,  as  far  as  your  memory  serves 
you,  the  conduct  and  conversation  of  the 
prisoner  during  the  evening  in  question." 

In  reply,  the  abbe  recapitulated  every 
minute  particular  of  the  supper  ;  scarcely 
an  observation  the  most  trivial  he  did  not 


recall  and  apply,  by  some  infernal  inge- 
nuity, to  the  scheme  of  the  conspiracy. 
Although  never,  even  in  the  slightest 
instance,  falsifying  any  speech,  he  tortured 
the  few  words  I  did  say  into  such  a  sem- 
blance of  criminality,  that  I  started,  as  I 
heard  the  interpretation  which  now  ap- 
peared so  naturally  to  attach  to  them. 

During  all  this  time  my  advocate  never 
interrupted  him  once,  but  occupied  himself 
in  writing  as  rapidly  as  he  could  follow  the 
evidence. 

The  chance  expression  which  concluded 
the  evening,  the  hope  of  meeting  soon,  was 
artfully  construed  into  an  arranged  and 
recognized  agreement  that  I  had  accepted 
companionship  amongst  them,  and  form- 
ally joined  their  ranks.  From  this  he 
passed  on  to  the  second  charge,  respecting 
the  conversation  I  had  overheard  at  the 
Tuileries,  and  which  I  so  unhappily 
repeated  to  Beauvais.  This  the  abbe  dwelt 
upon  with  great  minuteness,  as  evidencing 
my  being  an  accomplice,  showing  how  I 
had  exhibited  great  zeal  in  the  new  cause  I 
had  embarked  in,  and  affecting  to  mark 
how  very  highly  the  service  was  rated  by 
those  in  whose  power  lay  the  rewards  oi 
such  an  achievement. 

Then  followed  the  account  of  my  ap- 
pointment at  Versailles,  in  which  I  heard, 
with  a  sinking  heart,  how  thoroughly  even 
there  the  toils  were  spread  around  me.  It 
appeared  that  the  reason  of  the  neglect  I 
then  experienced  was  an  order  from  the 
minister  that  I  should  not  be  noticed  in 
any  way ;  that  the  object  of  my  being 
placed  there  was  to  test  my  fidelity,  which 
already  was  suspected  ;  that  it  was  supposed 
such  neglect  might  naturally  have  the 
effect  of  throwing  me  more  willingly  into 
the  views  of  the  conspirators,  and,  as  I  was 
watched  in  every  minute  particular,  of 
establishing  my  own  guilt  and  leading  to 
the  detection  of  others.  Then  came  a  nar- 
rative of  his  visits  to  my  quarters,  in  which 
the  omission  of  all  mention  of  his  name  in 
my  report  was  clearly  shown  as  an  evidence 
of  my  conscious  culpability  ;  and  to  my 
horror  and  confusion  a  new  Avitness  was 
produced,  the  sentinel,  Pierre  Dulong,  who 
mounted  guard  at  the  gate  of  the  chateau 
on  the  morning  when  I  passed  the  abbe 
through  the  park. 

With  an  accuracy  beyond  my  belief  he 
repeated  all  our  conversations,  making  the 
dubious  hints  and  dark  suggestions  which 
he  himself  threw  out  as  much  mine  as  his 
OAvn  ;  and  having  at  length  given  a  full 
picture  of  my  treacherous  conduct,  he  in- 
troduced my  intimacy  with  Beauvais  as  the 
crowning  circumstance  of  my  guilt.     "I 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


391 


shall  pause  here,"  said  he,  with  a  cool 
malignity,  but  ill  concealed  beneath  a  look 
of  affected  sorrow — "  I  shall  pause  here, 
and,  with  the  permission  of  the  court,  allow 
the  accused  to  make,  if  he  will,  a  full  con- 
fession of  his  criminality ;  or,  if  he  refuse 
this,  I  shall  proceed  to  the  disclosure  of 
other  circumstances,  by  which  it  will  be 
seen  that  these  dark  designs  met  favor  and 
countenance  in  higher  quarters,  and  among 
those,  too,  whose  sex,  if  nothing  else, 
should  have  removed  them  beyond  the  con- 
tamination of  confederacy  with  assassina- 
tion." 

"  The  court,"  said  the  President,  sternly, 
"will  enter  into  no  compromise  of  this 
kind.  You  are  here  to  give  such  evidence 
as  you  possess — fully,  frankly,  and  without 
reserve  ;  nor  can  we  permit  you  to  hold  out 
any  promises  to  the  prisoner  that  his  con- 
fession of  guilt  can  afford  a  screen  to  the 
culpability  of  others." 

"I  demand,"  cried  the  Procureur-Gene- 
ral,  "a  full  disclosure  from  the  witness  of 
everything  he  knows  concerning  this  con- 
spiracy. " 

"  In  that  case  I  shall  speak,"  said  the 
Abbe. 

At  this  instant  a  noise  was  heard  in  the 
hall  without ;  a  half  murmur  ran  through 
the  court  ;  and  suddenly  the  heavy  curtain 
was  drawn  aside,  and  a  loud  voice  called 
out : 

"  In  the  name  of  the  Republic — one  and 
indivisible — an  order  of  council." 

The  messenger,  splashed  and  covered 
with  mud,  advanced  through  the  court, 
and  delivered  a  packet  into  the  hands  of 
the  president,  who,  having  broken  the  large 
seals,  proceeded  leisurely  to  read  it  over. 
At  the  same  moment  I  felt  my  arm  gently 
touched,  and  a  small  pencil  note  was  slipped 
into  my  hand.     It  ran  thus  : 

"Dear  Sir, — Burke  is  safe.  An  order 
for  his  transmission  before  a  military  tri- 
bunal has  just  been  signed  by  the  First 
Consul.  Stop  all  the  evidence  at  once,  as 
he  is  no  longer  before  the  court.  The 
court-martial  will  be  but  a  formality,  and 
in  a  few  days  he  will  be  at  liberty.  —Yours, 

" DAuvergne,  Lieutenant-General." 

Before  I  could  recover  from  the  shock  of 
such  glad  tidings  the  President  rose,  and 
said, 

"In  the  matter  of  the  accused  Burke 
this  court  has  no  longer  cognizance,  as  he 
is  summoned  before  the  tribunal  of  the 
army.  Let  him  withdraw,  and  call  on  the 
next  case,  Auguste  Leconisset." 

D'Ervan  stooped  down  and  whispered  a 


few  words  to  the  procureur-general,  who 
immediately  demanded  to  peruse  the  on 
of  council.  To  this  my  advocate  at  once 
objected,  and  a  short  and  animated  discus- 
sion on  the  legal  question  followed.  The 
president,  however,  ruled  in  favor  of  my 
defender;  and  at  the  same  instant  a  cor- 
poral's guard  appeared,  into  whose  charge 
I  was  formally  handed  over,  and  marched 
from  the  court 

Such  was  the  excited  state  of  my  mind — 
in  such  a  confused  whirl  were  all  my  facul- 
ties, that  I  knew  nothing  of  what  was  \ 
ing  around  me ;  and  save  that  1  was 
ordered  to  mount  into  a  carriage,  and 
driven  along  at  a  rapid  pace,  I  remembered 
no  more.  At  length  we  reached  the  quay 
Voltaire,  and  entered  the  large  square  of 
the  barrack.  The  tears  burst  out  and  ran 
down  my  cheeks,  as  I  looked  once  more  on 
the  emblems  of  the  career  I  loved.  We 
stopped  at  the  door  of  a  large  stone  build- 
ing, where  two  sentries  were  posted ;  and 
the  moment  after  I  found  myself  the  occu- 
pant of  a  small  barrack-room,  in  which, 
though  under  arrest,  no  feature  of  harsh 
confinement  appeared,  and  from  wdiose 
windows  I  could  survey  the  movement  of 
the  troops  in  the  court,  and  hear  the  sounds 
which  for  so  many  a  day  had  been  the  most 
welcome  to  my  existence. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

"THE   CUIRASSIER." 

Although  my  arrest  was  continued  with 
all  its  strictness,  I  never  heard  one  word 
of  my  transmission  before  the  military 
tribunal ;  and  a  fortnight  elapsed,  during 
which  I  passed  through  every  stage  of  ex- 
pectancy, doubt,  and  at  last  indifference  ; 
no  tidings  having  ever  reached  me  as  to 
what  fortune  lay  in  store  for  me. 

The  gruff  old  invalid  that  carried  my 
daily  rations  seemed  but  ill-disposed  to 
afford  me  any  information,  even  as  to  the 
common  events  without,  and  seldom  made 
any  other  reply  to  my  questioning  than  an 
erect  position  as  if  on  parade,  a  military 
salute,  and  "  Connate  pas,  mon  lieutenant'' 
— a  phrase  which  I  actually  began  to  abhor 
from  its  repetition.  Still  his  daily  visits 
showed  I  was  not  utterly  forgotten  ;  while 
from  my  window  I  had  a  view  of  all  that 
went  on  in  the  barrack-yard.  There — for  I 
had  neither  books  nor  newspapers — I  spent 
my  entire  day  watching  the  evolutions  of 
the  soldiers  :  the  parade  at  daybreak,  the 
relieving  guards,  the  drill,  the  exercise,  the 


392 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


very  labors  of  I  lie  barrack-square — all  had 
their  interest  for  me,  and  at  length  I  began 
to  know  the  very  faces  of  the  soldiers,  and 
could  recognize  the  bronzed  and  weather- 
beaten  features  of  the  veterans  of  the  re- 
publican armies. 

It  was  a  cuirassier  regiment,  and  one  that 
had  seen  much  service ;  most  of  the  sous- 
officiers  and  many  of  the  men  were  deco- 
rated ;  and  their  helmets  bore  the  haughl  v 
device  of  "  Dix  contre  unf"  in  memory  of 
some  battle  against  the  Austrians,  where 
they  repulsed  and  overthrew  a  force  of  ten 
times  their  own  number. 

At  first  their  heavy  equipments  and  huge 
unwieldy  horses  seemed  strange  and  uncouth 
to  my  eyes,  accustomed  to  the  more  elegant 
and  trim  style  of  a  hussar  corps,  but  gradu- 
ally I  fancied  there  was  something  almost 
more  soldierlike  about  them;  their  dark 
faces  harmonized  too  with  the  great  black 
cuirass  ;  and  the  large  massive  boot  mount- 
ing to  the  middle  of  the  thigh,  the  long 
horse-haired  helmet,  the  straight  sword,  and 
peculiar,  heavy,  plodding  step,  reminded 
me  of  what  I  used  to  read  of  the  Roman 
centurion  ;  while  the  horses,  covered  with 
weighty  and  massive  trappings,  moved  with 
a  warlike  bearing,  and  a  tramp  as  stately  as 
their  riders. 

When  evening  came,  and  set  the  soldiers 
free  from  dut)^,  I  used  to  watch  them  for 
hours  long,  as  they  sat  in  little  groups  and 
knots  about  the  barrack-yard,  smoking  and 
chatting — occasionally  singing  too.  Even 
then,  however,  their  distinctive  character 
was  preserved  :  unlike  the  noisy  boisterous 
merriment  of  the  hussar,  the  staid  cuiras- 
sier deemed  such  levity  unbecoming  the 
dignity  of  his  arm  of  the  service,  and  there 
reigned  a  half  solemn  feature  over  all  their 
intercourse,  which  struck  me  forcibly.  I 
knew  not  then — as  I  have  learned  full  well 
since — how  every  department  of  the  French 
army  had  its  distinctive  characteristic,  and 
that  Napoleon  studied  and  even  encouraged 
the  growth  of  these  singular  manners  to  a 
great  extent ;  doubtless,  too,  feeling  a  pride 
in  his  own  thorough  intimacy  with  their 
most  minute  traits,  and  that  faculty  with 
which,  by  a  single  word,  he  could  address 
himself  to  the  cherished  feeling  of  a  par- 
ticular corps.  And  the  tact  by  which  the 
monarch  wins  over  and  fascinates  the 
nobles  of  his  court,  was  here  exercised  in 
the  great  world  of  a  camp,  and  with  far 
more  success  too  :  a  phrase,"  a  name,  some 
well-known  battle,  the  date  of  a  victory, 
would  fall  from  his  lips  as  he  rode  along 
the  line,  and  be  caught  up  with  enthusiasm 
by  thousands,  who  felt  in  the  one  word  a 
recognition  of  past  services.     "  Thcu  " — 


he  always  addressed  the  soldiers  in  the 
second  person — "thou  wert  with  me  at 
(  a  I  ro  ;"  "  I  remember  thee  at  Arcole,"  were 
enough  to  reward  wounds,  suffering,  muti- 
lation itself;  and  he  to  whom  such  was 
addressed  became  an  object  of  veneration 
among  his  fellows. 

Certain  corps  preserved  more  studiously 
than  others  the  memories  of  pas!  achieve- 
ments— the  heirlooms  of  their  glory  ;  and 
to  these  Bonaparte  always  spoke  with  a 
feeling  of  friendship  most  captivating  to 
the  soldier's  heart,  and  from  them  he 
selected  the  various  regiments  thai  com- 
posed his  "Guard."  The  cuirassiers  he- 
longed  to  this  proud  force  ;  and  even  an 
unmilitary  eye  could  mark,  in  their  haughty 
bearing  and  assured  look,  that  they  were  a 
favored  corps. 

Among  those  with  whose  faces  I  had  now 
grown  familiar  there  was  one  whom  I  re- 
garded with  unusual  interest :  he  seemed 
to  me  the  very  type  of  his  class.     He  was  a 
man  of  gigantic  size,  towering  by  half  a 
head  above  the  very  tallest  of  his  fellows, 
while   his  enormous  breadth  of  chest  and 
shoulder  actually  seemed  to  detract  from 
his  great  height,     The  lower  part  of  his  face 
was  entirely  concealed  by  a  beard  of.  bright 
red  hair  that  fell  in  a  huge  mass  over  the 
breast  of  his  cuirass,  and  seemed  by  its  trim 
and  fashion  to  be  an  object  of  no  common 
pride  to  the  wearer  ;  his  nose  was  marked' 
by  a  sabre-cut  that  extended   across   one 
entire  cheek,  leaving  a  deep  blue  welt  in  its 
track  :  but   saving  these  traits — wild   and 
I  savage  enough — the  countenance  was  smgu- 
J  larly  mild  and  pleasing  ;  he  had  large  and 
;  liquid   blue  eyes,  soft  and  lustrous  as  any 
|  girl's  ;  the  lashes,  too,  were  long  and  fall- 
i  ing  ;  and  his  forehead,  which  was  high  and 
open,  was  white  as  snow.     I  was  not  long 
|  in  remarking  the  strange  influence  this  man 
!  seemed  to  possess  over  the  rest — an  asoend- 
'  ancy  not   in  any  way  attributable  to  the 
marl:  on  his  sleeve,  which  proclaimed  him 
a  corporal.     It  seemed  as  though  his  slight- 
est word,  his  least  gesture,  was  attended  to  ; 
and  though  evidently  taciturn  and  quiet, 
when  he  spoke  I  could  detect  in  his  man- 
ner an  air  of  promptitude  and  command 
that  marked  him  as  one  born  to  be  above 
his  fellows.     If  he  seemed  such  in  the  idle 
hours,  on  parade  he  was  the  beau  ideal  of  a 
cuirassier.     His  great  war-horse,  seemingly 
small  for  the  immense  proportions  of  the 
heavy  rider,  bounded  with  each  movement 
of  his  wrist,  as  if  instinct  with  the  horse- 
man's wishes. 

I  waited  with  some  impatience  for  the 
invalid's  arrival,  to  ask  who  this  remarka- 
ble soldier  was,  certain  that  I  should  hear 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


393 


of  no  common  man.  He  came  soon  after  ; 
and  as  I  pointed  out  the  object  of  my  curi- 
osity, the  old  fellow  drew  himself  up  with 
pride,  and,  while  a  grim  effort  at  a  smile 
crossed  his  features,  replied  : 

"  That's  Pioche—  le  gros  Pioche  .' " 

"Pioche!"  said  1,  repeating  the  name 
aloud,  and  endeavoring  to  remember  why 
il  .seemed  well  known  to  me. 

"Yes,  Pioche,''  rejoined  he,  gruffly. 
"  If  Monsieur  had  ever  been  in  Egypt,  the 
name  would  scarcely  sound  so  strange  in 
his  ears."  And  with  this  sarcasm  he  hob- 
bled from  the  room  and  closed  the  door, 
while  I  could  hear  him  grumbling  along 
the  entire  corridor,  in  evident  anger  at  the 
ignorance  that  did  not  know  "  Pioche." 

Twenty  times  did  I  repeat  the  name 
aloud,  before  it  flashed  across  me  as  the 
same  Madame  Lefebvre  mentioned  at  the 
soiree  in  the  palace.  It  was  Pioche  who 
shouldered  the  brass  field-piece,  and  passed 
before  the  general  on  parade.  The  gigan- 
tic size,  the  powerful  strength,  the  strange 
name — all  could  belong  to  no  other  ;  and  I 
felt  as  though  at  once  I  had  found  an  old 
acquaintance  in  the  great  cuirassier  of  the 
Guard. 

If  the  prisoner  in  his  lonely  cell  has  few 
incidents  to  charm  his  solitary  hours,  in 
return  he  is  enabled  by  some  happy  gift  to 
make  these  the  sources  of  many  thoughts. 
The  gleam  of  light  that  falls  upon  the  floor, 
broken  by  the  iron  gratings  of  his  window, 
comes  laden  with  storied  fancies  of  other 
lands — of  far-distant  countries,  where  men 
are  dwelling  in  their  native  mountains  free 
and  happy ;  forgetful  of  his  prison,  the 
captive  wanders  in  his  fancy  through  val- 
leys he  has  seen  in  boyhood,  and  with 
friends  to  be  met  no  more.  He  turns  glad- 
ly to  the  past,  of  whose  pleasures  no  ad- 
verse fortune  can  deprive  him,  and  ives 
over  again  the  happy  hours  of  his  youth  ; 
and  thinks,  with  a  melancholy  not  devoid 
of  its  own  pleasure,  of  what  they  would  feel 
who  loved  him,  could  they  but  see  him 
now.  He  pictures  (heir  sympathy  and  their 
sorrow,  and  his  he,art  feels  lighter,  though 
his  eyes  drop  tears. 

In  this  way  the  great  cuirassier  became 
an  object  for  my  thoughts  by  day  and  my 
dreams  by  night.  I  fancied  a  hundred  sto- 
ries of  which  he  was  the  hero  ;  and  these 
imaginings  served  to  while  away  many  a 
tedious  hour,  and  gave  me  an  interest"  in 
watching  the  little  spot  of  earth  that  was 
visible  from  my  barred  window.  It  was  in 
one  of  these  reveries  I  sat  one  evening, 
when  I  heard  the  sounds  of  feet  approach- 
ing along  the  corrider  that  led  to  my  room  ; 
the  clank  of  a  sabre  and  the  jingle  of  spurs 


sounded  not  like  my  gruff  visitor.  My 
door  wsa  opened  before  l  had  time  for 
much  conjee) ii re,  and  General  D'Auvergne 
stood  before  me. 

"Ah  !  mon  lieutenant"  cried  be.  gayly, 
"you  have  been  thinking  very  hardly  of 
me  since  ue  mel  last,  I'm  sure;  charging 
me  with  forgetfulness,  and  accusing  me  of 
greal  neglect." 

"Pardon  me,  general  "said  I,  hurriedly  ; 
"your  former  kindness,  for  which  I  never 
can   be   grateful    enough,  ha-    been    alv. 
before  my  mind.      1  have  not  ten 

that  you  saved  my  life  ;  more  still — you 
rescued  my  name  from  dishonor.*' 

"Well,  well;  that's  all  past  and  gone 
now.  Your  reputation  stands  clear  at  Last. 
De  Beauvais  has  surrendered  himself  to  the 
authorities  at  Rouen,  and  made  a  full  con- 
fession of  everything,  exculpating  you  com- 
pletely in  every  particular,  save  the  indis- 
cretion of  your  intercourse  with  Mehee  de 
la  Touche — or,  as  you  know  him  better, 
the  Abbe  d'Ervan." 

"And  poor  De  Beauvais,  what  is  to  he- 
come  of  him  ?  "  said  I,  eagerly. 

"  Have  no  fears  on  his  account,"  said  he, 
with  something  like  confusion  in  his  man- 
ner ;  she — that  is,  Madame  Bonaparte — has 
kindly  interested  herself  in  his  behalf,  and 
he  is  to  sail  for  Guadaloupe  in  a  few  days — 
his  own  proposition  and  wish." 

"And  does  General  Bonaparte  know  now 
that  I  was  guiltless  ?  "  cried  I,  with  enthu- 
siasm. 

"  My  dear  young  man,'*  said  he,  with  a 
bland  smile,  "  I  very  much  fear  that  the 
General  has  little  time  at  this  moment  to 
give  the  matter  much  of  his  attention. 
Great  events  have  happened — are  happen- 
ing while  we  speak.  War  is  threatening 
on  the  side  of  Austria.  Y^es,  it  is  true  ; 
the  camp  of  Boulogne  has  received  orders  to 
break  up  ;  troops  are  once  more  on  their 
march  to  the  Rhine  ;  all  France  is  arming." 

"Oh,  when  shall  I  be  free  ?  " 

"You  are  free  !  "  cried  he,  clapping  me 
gayly  on  the  shoulder.  "An  annesty 
against  all  untried  prisoners  for  state  of- 
fenses has  been  proclaimed.  At  such  a  mo- 
ment of  national  joy — " 

"What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"What!  and  have  I  not  told  you  my 
great  news  ?  The  senate  have  presented  to 
Bonaparte  an  address,  praying  his  accept- 
ance of  the  throne  of  France — or,  m  their 
very  words,  to  make  his  authority  eternal." 

"And  he  ?"  said  I,  breathless  with  im- 
patience to  know  the  result. 

"  He,"  continued  the  General,  "has  re- 
plied as  became  him,  desiring  them  to  state 
clearly  their  views — by  what  steps  they  pro- 


o*94 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


pose  to  consolidate  the  acquired  liberties  of 
the  nation  ;  and  while  avowing  that  no 
higher  honor  or  dignity  can  await  him  than 
such  as  he  has  already  received  at  the  hands 
of  the  people — '  Yet,'  added  he,  '  when  the 
hour  arrives  that  J  can  see  such  to  be  the 
will  of  France,  when  one  voice  proclaims  it 
from  Alsace  to  the  Ocean — from  Lisle  to 
the  Pyrenees,  then  shall  I  be  ready  to  ac- 
cept the  throne  of  France."1 

The  general  entered  minutely  into  all 
the  circumstances  of  the  great  political 
change,  and  detailed  the  effect  which  the 
late  conspiracy  had  had  on  the  minds  of 
the  people,  and  with  what  terror  they  con- 
templated the  social  disorders  that  must  ac- 
crue from  the  death  of  their  great  ruler; 
how  nothing  short  of  a  government  based 
on  a  monarchy,  with  the  right  of  succes- 
sion established,  could  withstand  such  a 
terrific  crisis.  As  he  spoke,  the  words  I 
had  heard  in  the  Temple  crossed  my  mind, 
and  I  remembered  that  such  was  the  anti- 
cipation of  the  prisoners,  as  they  said 
among  themselves,  "When  the  guillotine 
has  done  its  work,  they'll  patch  up  the  tim- 
bers into  a  throne." 

"  And  George  Cadoudal  and  the  others  ?  " 
said  I. 

"  They  are  no  more.  Betrayed  by  their 
own  party,  they  met  death  like  brave  men, 
and  as  worthy  of  a  better  cause.  But  let 
us  not  turn  to  so  sad  a  theme.  The  order 
for  your  liberation  will  be  here  to-morrow  ; 
and  as  I  am  appointed  to  a  brigade  on  active 
service,  I  have  come  to  offer  you  the  post  of 
aide-de-camp." 

I  could  not  speak  ;  my  heart  was  too  full 
for  words.  I  knew  how  great  the  risk  of 
showing  any  favor  to  one  who  stood  in  such 
a  position  as  I  did,  and  I  could  but  look 
my  gratitude,  while  the  tears  ran  down  my 
cheeks. 

"  Well,"  cried  he,  as  he  took  my  hand  in 
his,  "  so  much  is  settled.  Now  to  another 
point,  and  one  in  which  my  frankness  must 
cause  you  no  offense.  You  are  not  rich — 
neither  am  I ;  but  Bonaparte  always  gives 
us  opportunities  to  gather  our  epaulettes — 
ay,  and  find  the  bullion  to  make  them,  too. 
Meanwhile,  you  may  want  money — " 

"No,  general,"  cried  I,  eagerly;  "here 
are  three  thousand  francs  some  kind  friend 
sent  me.  I  know  not  whence  they  came  ; 
and  even  if  I  wanted,  did  not  dare  to  spend 
them  ;  but  now — " 

The  old  man  paused,  and  appeared  con- 
fused, while  he  leaned  his  finger  on  his 
forehead,  and  seemed  endeavoring  to  recall 
some  passing  thought. 

"  Did  they  come  from  you,  sir  ?  "  said  I, 
timidly. 


"No,  not  from  me,"  repeated  he,  slow- 
ly. "  You  say  you  never  found  out  the 
donor  ?  " 

"Never,"  said  I,  while  a  sense  of  shame 
prevented  my  adding  what  rose  to  my  mind 
— Could  they  not  be  from  Mademoiselle  de 
Meudon  ? 

"  Well,  well,"  said  he,  at  length,  "be  it 
so.  And  now  till  to-morrow  :  I  shall  be 
here  at  noon,  and  bring  the  minister's  order 
with  me.     And  so,  good-by." 

"  Good-by,"  said  I,  as  I  stood  overcome 
with  happiness.  "  Let  what  will  come  of 
it,  this  is  a  moment  worth  living  for." 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

A   MORNING   AT    "THE  TUILERIES." 

True  to  his  appointment,  the  general 
appeared  the  following  day  as  the  hour  of 
noon  was  striking.  He  brought  the  official 
papers  from  the  minister  of  war,  as  well  as 
the  formal  letter  naming  me  his  aide-de- 
camp. The  documents  were  all  perfectly 
regular,  and  being  read  over  by  the  mili- 
tary commission,  I  was  sent  for,  when  my 
sword  was  restored  to  me  by  the  colonel  of 
the  regiment  in  garrison,  and  I  was  free 
once  more. 

"You  have  received  a  severe  lesson, 
Burke,"  said  the  General,  as  he  took  my 
arm  to  lead  me  toward  his  carriage,  "  and  all 
owing  to  the  rashness  with  which,  in  times 
of  difficulty  and  danger,  you  permitted 
yourself  to  form  intimacies  with  men  ut- 
terly unknown  to  you.  There  are  epochs 
when  weakness  is  the  worst  of  evils.  You 
are  very  young,  to  be  sure,  and  I  trust  the 
experience  you  have  acquired  here  will 
serve  for  a  lifetime." 

"  Still,  sir,  in  all  this  sad  business,  my 
faith  never  wavered  ;  my  attachment  to  the 
Consul  was  unshaken." 

"  Had  it  been  otherwise,  do  you  think 
you  had  been  here  now  ?"  said  he,  dryly. 
"  Were  not  the  evidences  of  your  fidelity 
set  off  against  your  folly,  what  chance  of 
escape  remained  for  you  ?  No,  no  ;  she 
who  befriended  you  so  steadily  throughout 
this  tangled  scheme  for  your  ruin,  had 
never  advocated  your  cause  were  there 
reason  to  suppose  you  were  involved  in  the 
conspiracy  against  her  husband's  life." 

' '  Who  do  you  mean  ? " said  I.  "I scarce- 
ly understand." 

"The  Consulesse,  of  course.-  But  for 
Madame  Bonaparte  you  were  lost  ;  even 
since  I  saw  you  last,  I  have  learned  how 
deeply  interested  she  became  in  your  for- 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


395 


tunes.  The  letter  you  received  in  the 
Temple  came  from  her,  and  the  inclosure 
also.  And  now,  with  jour  leave,  we  can 
do  nothing  better  than  pay  our  respects  to 
her,  and  make  our  acknowledgments  for 
such  kindness.  She  receives  at  this  hour. 
and  will,  1  know,  take  your  visit  in  good 
part. " 

While  I  professed  my  readiness  to  com- 
ply with  the  suggestion,  we  drove  into  the 
court  of  the  Tuileries.  It  was  so  early  that, 
except  the  officers  of  the  Consul's  staff,  and 
some  of  those  on  guard,  we  were  the  only 
persons  visible. 

"  We  are  the  first  arrivals,''  said  the  Gene- 
ral, as  we  drew  up  at  the  door  of  the  pa- 
vilion, "lam  not  sorry  for  it ;  we  shall 
have  our  audience  over  before  the  crowd 
assembles." 

Giving  our  names  to  the  usher,  we 
mounted  the  stairs,  and  passed  on  from 
room  to  room  until  we  came  to  a  large  salon, 
in  which  seats  were  formally  arranged  in  a 
semicircle,  an  arm-chair  somewhat  higher 
than  the  rest  occupying  the  center.  Sev- 
eral full-length  portraits  of  the  generals  of 
the  revolutionary  armies  adorned  the  walls, 
and  a  striking  likeness  of  the  Consul  him- 
self, on  horseback,  held  the  principal  place. 
I  had  but  time  to  see  thus  much,  when  the 
two  sides  of  the  folding-doors  were  flung 
open,,  and  Madame  Bonaparte,  followed  by 
Mademoiselle  de  Meudon,  entered.  Scarce- 
ly were  the  doors  closed,  when  she  said, 
smiling, 

"  I  heard  of  your  arrival,  general,  and 
guessed  its  purport,  so  came  at  once.  Mon- 
sieur Burke,  I  am  happy  to  see  you  at  lib- 
erty once  more." 

"  That  I  owe  it  to  you,  madame,  makes 
it  doubly  dear  to  me,"  said  I,  faltering. 

"  You  must  not  »overrate  my  exertions  on 
your  behalf,"  replied  the  Consulesse,  in  a 
hurried  voice.  "  There  was  an  amende  due 
to  you  for  the  treatment  you  met  with  at 
Versailles — all  Savary's  fault ;  and  now  I  am 
sincerely  sorry  I  ever  suffered  myself  to  be- 
come a  party  to  his  schemes.  Indeed,  I 
never  guessed  them,  or  I  should  not.  Gen- 
eral d'Auvergne  has  made  you  his  aide-de- 
camp, he  tells  me." 

"  Yes,  madame  ;  my  good  fortune  has 
showered  favors  on  me  most  suddenly. 
Your  kindness  has  been  an  augury  of  suc- 
cess in  everything." 

She  smiled,  as  if  pleased,  and  then  said, 
"  I  have  a  piece  of  advice  to'  give  you,  and 
hope  you'll  profit  by  it."  Then,  turning 
toward  the  general,  who  all  this  time  was 
deeply  engaged  in  talking  to  Mademoiselle 
de  Meudon,  she  added,  "  Don't  you  think, 
general,  that  it  were  as  well  Monsieur  Burke 


should  not  be  in  the  way  of  meeting  the 
Consul  for  some  short  time  to  come  r  Is 
i  here  any  garrison  duty,  or  any  service  away 
from  Paris,  where,  for  a  week  or  so,  he 
could  remain  ?  " 

"I  have  though!  of  that,  madame/'  said 
the  General.  "Two  of  the  regiments  in 
ni\  brigade  are  to  march  to-morrow  for  the 
east,  of  F ranee,  and  I  intend  in\  young 
friend  to  proceed  to  Strasbourg  at  once." 

"  This  is  not  meant  for  banishment,"  said 
she  to  me,  with  a  look  of  much  sweetness ; 
"  but  Bonaparte  will  now  and  then  say  a 
severe  thing,  likely  to  dwell  in  the  mind  of 
him  to  whom  it  was  addressed  long  after 
the  sentiment  which  dictated  it  has  depart- 
ed. A  little  time  will  efface  all  mem  or 
this  sad  affair,  and  then  we  shall  be  happy 
to  see  you  here  again." 

"  Or  events  may  happen  soon,  madame, 
by  which  he  may  make  his  own  peace  with 
General  Bonaparte." 

"True,  very  true,"  said  she,  gravely. 
"  And  as  to  that,  general,  what  advices  are 
there  from  Vienna  ?  " 

She  drew  the  general  aside  into  one  of 
the  windows,  leaving  me  alone  with  Made- 
moiselle de  Meudon.    But  a  minute  before, 
,  and  I  had  given  the  world  for  such  an  op- 
portunity, and  now  I  could  not  speak  a  syl- 
lable.     She,  too,  seemed  equally  confused, 
and  bent  over  a  large  vase  of  moss-roses,  as 
i  if  totally  occupied  by  their  arrangement. 
1 1   drew  nearer,  and  endeavored  to  address 
,  her,  but  the  words  would  not  come,,  while 
'  a  hundred  gushing  thoughts  pressed  on  me, 
I  and  my  heart  beat  loud  enough  for  me  to 
hear  it.     At  last  I  saw  her  lips  move,  and 
thought   I  heard  my  name ;  I  bent  down 
my  head  lower  ;  it  was  her  voice,  but  so 
low  as  to  be  scarcely  audible. 

"  I    cannot   thank   you,  sir,  as   I   could 
wish,"  said  she,  "for  the  service  you  ren- 
dered me,  at  the  risk  of  your  own  life  and 
honor.     And  though  I  knewr  not  the  dan- 
gers  you   were   to   incur  by  my  request.  I 
asked   it  as  of  the  only  one  I  knew   who 
would   brave  such  danger   at  my  asking." 
:  She  paused  for  a  second,  then  continued  : 
;  "  The  friend  of  Charles  could  not  but  be 
'the   friend  of   Marie  de' Meudon.      There 
'  is  now  another  favor  I  would  beg  at  your 
hands,"  said    she,   while   a    livid   paleness 
overspread  her  features. 

"Oh,  name  it!"  said  I,  passionately. 
I  "  Say,  how  can  I  serve  you  ?" 

"It  is  this,"  said  she,  with  an  accent 
:  whose  solemnity  sank  into  the  very  recesses 
j  of  my  heart  :  "  We  have  ever  been  an  un- 
I  lucky  race.  De  Meudon  is  but  a  name  for 
misfortune;  not  only  have  we  met  little 
I  else  in  our  own  lives,  but  all  who  have  be- 


•    396 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


friended  us  have  paid  the  penalty  of  their 
friendship.  My  dear  brother  knew  this 
well  ;  and  I — "  She  paused,  and  then, 
though  her  lips  moved,  the  words  that  fol- 
lowed were  inaudible.  "  There  is  but  one 
on  earth."'  continued  she,  as  her  eyes,  brim- 
ful of  tears,  were  turned  toward  Madame 
Bonaparte,  who  still  stood  talking  in  the 
window,  "  over  whose  fortunes  my  affection 
has  thrown  no  blight.  Heaven  grant  it 
may  be  ever  so  ! "  Then  suddenly,  as  if 
remembering  herself,  she  added  :  "  What  I 
would  ask  is  this — that  we  should  meet  no 
more.  Nay,  nay,  look  not  so  harshly  at  me. 
If  I,  alone  in  the  world,  ask  to  be  deprived 
of  his  friendship  who  loved  my  brother 
so—" 

"  Oh  !  if  you  be  alone  in  the  Avorld,  feel 
for  one  like  me,  who  has  not  even  a  coun- 
try he  can  call  his  own.  Take  not  the  one 
hope  from  my  heart,  I  ask  you.  Leave  me 
the  thought  that  there  is  one,  but  one,  in 
all  this  land,  to  whom  my  name,  if  ever 
mentioned  with  praise,  can  bring  one  mo- 
ment's pleasure — who  can  say,  '  I  knew 
him.'  •  Do  not  forget  that  Charles,  with  his 
dying  breath,  said  you  would  be  my  sister." 

The  door  of  the  salon  opened  suddenly, 
and  a  name  was  announced,  but  in  my  con- 
fusion I  heard  not  what.  Madame  Bona- 
parte, however,  advanced  toward  the  new 
arrival  with  an  air  of  welcome,  as  she  said, 

"We  were  just  wishing  for  you,  general. 
Pray  tell  us  all  the  news  of  Paris." 

The  person  thus  addressed  was  a  very  tall 
and  singularly  handsome  man,  whose  dark 
eyes,  and  dark  whiskers  meeting  in  the  mid- 
dle of  his  chin,  gave  him  the  appearance  of 
an  Italian.  He  was  dressed  in  a  hussar 
uniform  whose  gorgeous  braiding  of  gold 
was  heightened  in  effect  by  a  blaze  of  orders 
and  stars  that  covered  the  entire  breast ; 
the  scarlet  pantaloons,tight  to  the  leg,  dis- 
played to  advantage  the  perfect  symmetry 
of  his  form,  while  his  boots  of  }Tellow  mo- 
rocco, bound  and  tasseled  with  gold,  seemed 
the  very  coquetry  of  military  costume.  A 
sabre,  the  hilt  actually  covered  with  pre- 
cious stones,  clanked  at  his  side,  and  the 
aigrette  of  his  plumed  hat  was  a  large  dia- 
mond. There  was  something  almost  the- 
atrical in  the  manner  of  his  approach,  as 
with  a  stately  step  and  a  deep  bow  he  took 
Madame  Bonaparte's  hand  and  kissed  it  ;  a 
ceremony  he  repeated  to  Mademoiselle  de 
Meudon,  adding,  as  he  did  so  : 

"And  my  fair  Rose  do  Provence — more 
beautiful  than  ever  ! — how  is  she  ?  " 

"What      flattery     is     he      whispering, 

4     Marie?"    said    the    Consulesse,  laughing. 

"Don't  you  know,  general,  that  I  insist  on 

all   the   compliments    here   being   paid    to 


myself  ?  What  do  you  think  of  my  robe  ? 
your  judgment  is  said  to  be  "perfect." 

"Charming  —  absol  u  te  1  y  e  harming!*' 
said  he,  in  an  attitude  of  affected  admira- 
tion. "  It  is  only  such  taste  as  yours  could 
have  devised  anything  so  beautiful.  Yet 
the  roses — 1  half  think  I  should  have  pre- 
ferred them  white." 

"You  can  scarcely  imagine  that  vain 
felloAv  with  the  long  ringlets  the  boldest 
soldier  of  the  French  army,"  said  the  Gene- 
ral, in  a  low  whisper,  as  he  drew  me  to  one 
side. 

"  Indeed  !  and  who  is  he,  then  ?  " 

"You  a  hussar,  and  not  know  him! 
Why,  Murat,  to  be  sure." 

"  So  then,  Madame,  all  my  news  of 
Monsieur  Talleyrand's  ball,  it  seems,  is 
stale  already.  You've  heard  that  the 
Russian  and  Austrian  ministers  both  sent 
apologies  ?  " 

"Oh  dear!"  said  she,  sighing;  "have 
I  not  heard  it  a  thousand  times,  and  every 
reason  for  it  canvassed,  until  I  wished  both 
of  their  excellencies  at — at  Madame  Le- 
febvre's  dinner-party  ?"    • 

"That  was  perfect,"  cried  Murat,  aloud  ; 
"a  regular  bivouac  in  a  salon.  You'd 
think  that  the  silver  dishes  and  the  gilt 
candelabras  had  just  been  captured  from  the 
enemy,  and  that  the  cuisine  was  made  by 
beat  of  drum." 

"The  general  is  an  honest  man  and  a 
brave  officer,"  said  D'Auvergne,  somewhat 
nettled  at  the  tone  Murat  spoke  in. 

"  No  small  boast  either,"  replied  the 
other,  shrugging  his  shoulders  carelessly, 
"  in  the  times  and  the  land  we  live  in." 

"And  what  of  Cambaceres's  soiree?  how 
did  it  go  off  ?  "  interposed  Madame  Bona- 
parte, anxious  to  relieve  the  awkward  pause 
that  followed. 

"Like  everything  in  his  hotel — somber, 
stately,  and  stupid  ;  the  company  all  dull, 
avIio  would  be  agreeable  everywhere  else  ; 
the  tone  of  the  reception  labored  and  affect- 
ed, and  every  one  dying  to  get  away  to 
Fouche's.  It  was  his  second  night  for  re- 
ceiving." 

"Was  that  pleasanter,  then  ?" 

"  A  hundred  times.  There  •  are  no 
parties  like  his — one  meets  everybody.  It 
is  a  kind  of  neutral  territory  for  the  Fau- 
bourg and  the  Jacobin — the  partisan  of  our 
people,  and  the  followers  of  Heaven  knows 
who.  Fouche  slips  about,  whispering  the 
same  anecdote  in  confidence  to  every  one, 
and  binding  <*a.ch  to  secrecy.  Then,  as 
every  one  comes  there  to  spy  his  neighbor, 
the  host  has  an  excellent  opportunity  of 
pumping  all  in  turn  ;  and  while  they  all 
persist  in  telling  him  nothing  but  lies,  they 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


397 


forget  that  with  him  no  readier  road  could 
lead  to  the  detection  of  truth." 

"The  Consul!"  paid  a  servant,  aloud, 
as  the  door  opened  and  closed  with  a  crash, 
and  Bonaparte,  dressed  in  the  uniform  of 
the  Chasseurs  of  the  Guard,  and  covered 
with  dust,  entered. 

'•Was  Decree  here?"  And  then,  with- 
out Avai  ting  for  a,  reply,  continued — "It  is 
settled — all  finally  arranged  ;  I  told  you, 
Madame,  the  'pear  was  ripe.'  I  start  to- 
morrow for  Boulogne.  You,  Murat,  must- 
accompany  me.  D'Auvergne,  your  division 
will  march  the  day  after.  Who  is  this 
gentleman  ?" 

This  latter  question,  in  all  its  abruptness, 
was  addressed  to  me,  while  a  dark  and 
ominous  frown  settled  on  his  features. 

"My  aide-de-camp,  sir,"  said  the  old 
General,  hastily,  hoping  thus  to  escape 
further  inquiry. 

"Your  name,  sir?"  said  the  Consul, 
harshly,  as  he  fixed  his  piercing  eyes  upon 
me. 

"Burke,  sir;  sous-lieutenant — " 

"Of  the  8th  Hussars,"  continued  he. 
"I  know  the  rest,  sir.  Every  conspiracy 
is  made  up  of  knaves  and  fools  ;  you  figured 
in  the  latter  capacity.  Mark  me,  sir,  your 
name  is  yet  to  make  ;  the  time  is  approach- 
ing when  you  may  have  the  opportunity  ; 
still,  General  D'Auvergne,  it  is  not  in  the 
ranks  of  a  Chouan  plot  I  should  have  gone 
to  select  my  staff." 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,  but  this  young  man's 
devotion  to  you — " 

"Is  on  record,  general;  I  have  seen  it 
in  Mehee  de  la  Touche's  own  writing," 
added  Bonaparte,  with  a  sneer.  "  Give 
me  the  fidelity,  sir,  that  has  no  tarnish  — 
like  your  own,  D'Auvergne.  Go,  sir," 
said  he,  turning  to  me,  while  he  waved  his 
hand  toward  the  door.  "It  will  need  all 
your  bravery  and  all  your  heroism  to  make 
me  acquit  General  D'Auvergne  of  an  act 
of  folly." 

I  hung  my  head  in  shame,  and  with  a 
low  reverence  and  a  tottering  step  moved 
from  the  room  and  closed  the  door  behind  me. 

I  had  just  reached  the  street  when  the 
general  overtook  me. 

"Come,  come,  Burke,"  said  he,  "you 
must  not  mind  this.  1  heard  Lannes  re- 
ceive a  heavier  reproof,  because  he  only 
carried  away  three  guns  of  an  Austrian 
oattery,  when  there  were  four  in  all." 

"  Bonaparte  never  forgets,  sir,"  muttered 
I  between  my  teeth,  as  the  well-remembered 
phrase  crossed  my  mind. 

"  Then  there's  but  one  thing  to  do,  my 
boy  ;  give  him  a  pleasanter  souvenir  to 
look  back  upon.     Besides,"  added  he  in  a 


lower  lone,  "the  general  is  evei  harsh  at 
the  moment  of  victor)  ;  and  mch  is  the 
present.  In  a  few  days  mon  .  Prance  will 
have  an  emperor  ;  the'  Senate  has  declai 

and  the  army  wait  hut  for  the  rignal  to 
salute  their  monarch.  And  now  for  youx' 
own  duties.  Make  your  arrangement* 
start  to-nighl  by  post  for  May<  u  •  1  shall 
join  you  there  in  abort  ten  days.  You  are, 
on  your  arrival,  to  reporl  yourself  to  the 
general  in  command,  and  receive  your  in- 
structions from  him.  A  great  movemenl 
toward  -the  Rhine  is  in  contemplation,  bul 
of  course,  everything  awaits  the  pro- 
of political  changes  in  Paris." 

Thus  conversing,  we  reached  the  corner 
of  the  Rue  de  Rohan,  where  the  general's 
quarters  were. 

"You'll  be  here  then  punctually  at  eight 
to-night,"  said  he  ;  and  we  parted. 

I  walked  on  for  some  time  without  know- 
ing which  way  I  went,  the  strange  conflict 
of  my  mind  so  completely  absorbed  me — 
hope  and  fear,  pride,  shame,  and  sorrow 
alternately  swaying  me  with  their  impulses. 
I  noticed  not  the  gay  and  splendid  streets 
through  which  I  passed,  nor  the  merry 
groups  which  poured  along.  At  length  I 
remembered  that  but  a  few  hours  remained 
for  me  to  make  some  purchases  necessary 
for  my  journey.  My  new  uniform  as  aide- 
de-camp,  too,  was  yet  to  be  ordered  ;  and 
by  some  strange  hazard  I  was  exactly  at  the 
corner  of  the  Rue  de  Richelieu  on  the 
Boulevard,  at  the  very  shop  of  Monsieur 
Crillac,  where,  some  months  before,  began 
the  singular  current  of  ill-luck  that  had 
followed  me  ever  since.  A  half-shudder  of 
fear  passed  across  me  for  a  second  as  I 
thought  of  all  the  dangers  I  had  gone 
through,  and  the  next  moment  I  felt 
ashamed  of  my  cowardice,  and  pushing 
the  glass  door  before  me,  walked  in.  I 
looked  about  me  for  the  well-known  face 
of  the  proprietor,  but  he  was  nowhere  to 
be  seen.  A  lean  and  wasted  little  old  man, 
hung  round  with  tapes  and  measures,  was 
the  only  person  there.  Saluting  me  with  a 
most  respectful  bow,  he  asked  my  orders. 

"I  thought  this  was  Crillac's,"  said  I, 
hesitatingly. 

A  shrug  of  the  shoulders  and  a  strange 
expression  of  the  eyebrows  was  the  only 
reply. 

"I  remember  he  lived  here  some  eight 
or  ten  months  ago,"  said  I  again,  curious 
to  find  out  the  meaning  of  the  man's  igno- 
rance of  his  predecessor. 

"'Monsieur  has  been  away  from  Paris  for 
some  time  then  ?  "  was  the  cautious  ques- 
tion of   the   little   man,  as  he  peered  cu 
riouslv  at  me. 


398 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


"Yes  ;  I  ha\3  been  away,"  said  I,  after 
a  pause. 

"Monsieur  knew  Crillac  probably  when 
he  was  here  ?  " 

"I  never  saw  him  but  once,"  said  T. 

"Ha!"  cried  he,  after  a  long  silence. 
"  Then  you  probably  never  beard  of  the 
Chouan  "conspiracy  to  murder  the  chief 
Consul  and  overthrow  the  Government, 
nor  of  their  trial  at  the  Palais  de  Justice  ?  " 

I  nodded  slightly,  and  he  went  on. 

"  Monsieur  Cr'illac's  evidence  was  of 
great  value  in  the  proceeding  :  he  knew 
Jules  de  Polignae  and  Charles  de  la  Eiviere 
well  ;  and  but  for  him,  San  Victor  would 
have  escaped." 

"  And  what  has  become  of  him  since  ?  " 

"He  is  gone  back  to  the  south  ;  he  has 
been  promoted."    J 

"  Promoted  !— what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Par bleu  !  it  is  easy  enough  to  under- 
stand. He  was  made  chef  de  bureau  in  the 
department  of " 

"  What ! — was  be  not  a  tailor  then  ?  " 

"  A  tailor  ! — no,"  said  the  little  man, 
•laughing  heartily,  "he  was  a  mouchard,  a 
police  spy,  who  knew  all  the  royalist  party 
well  at  Bordeaux,  and  Fouche.  brought  him 
up  here  to  Paris,  and  established  him  in 
this  house.  Ah,  mon  Dieu  I "  said  he, 
sighing,  "  he  had  a  better  and  a  pleasanter 
occupation  than  cutting  out  pantaloons." 

Without  heeding  the  reiterated  profes- 
sions of  the  little  tailor  of  his  desire  for  my 
patronage,  I  strolled  out  again,  lost  in  re- 
flection, and  sick  to  the  heart  of  a  system 
based  on  such  duplicity  and  deception. 


At  last  in  Mayence.  What  a  change  of 
life  was  this  to  me  !  A  large  fortress  gar- 
risoned by  twelve  thousand  men,  princi- 
pally artillery,  awaited  here  the  orders_  of 
the  Consul  ;  but  whither  the  destination 
before  them,  or  what  the  hour  when  the 
word  to  march  was  to  summon  them,  none 
could  tell.  Meanwhile  the  activity  of  the 
troops  was  studiously  kept  up  ;  battering 
trains  of  field  artillery  were  exercised  day 
after  day  ;  the  men  were  practiced  in  all 
the  movements  of  the  field  ;  while  the 
foundries  were  unceasingly  occupied  in 
casting  guns,  and  the  furnaces  rolled  forth 
their  myriads  of  shell  and  shot.  Staff  offi- 
cers came  and  Avent ;  expresses  arrived  from 
Paris,  and  orderlies,  travel-stained  and 
tired,  galloped  in  from  the  other  fortified 
places  near,  but  still  no  wdiisper  came  to 
say  where  the  great  game  of  war  was  to 
open — for  what  quarter  of  the  globe  the 
terrible  carnage  was  destined.  From  day- 
light till  dark  no  moment  of  our  time  was 


unoccupied  ;   reports  innumerable  were  to 
be  furnished  on  every  possible  subject,  and 
frequently  it  was   far  m  the  night  ere  I 
returned  to  rest.     To  others  this  unbroken 
monotony  may  have   been  wearisome  and 
uninteresting  ;   to  me  each   incident  bore 
upon    the   great   cause   I  gloried    in  ;    the 
dull  rumble  of  the  caissons,  the  heavy  clat- 
tering of  the  brass  guns  were  music  to  my 
ear,  and  I   never  wearied  of  the  dm  and 
clamor   that    spoke  of  preparation.     Such 
was     indeed     the     preoccupation    of     my 
thoughts,  that  I  scarcely  marked  the  course 
of  events  which  were  even  then  passing,  or 
the   mighty   changes  that   already   moved 
across  the  destinies  of  France.    To  my  eyes 
the  conqueror  of   Lodi  needed   no  title — 
what  scepter  could  equal  lus  own  sword  ? 
France  might  desire  in  her  pride  to  unite 
her  destinies  with  such  a  name  as  his,  but 
he,  the  general  of  Italy  and  Egypt,  could 
not  be  exalted  by  any  dignity.     Such  were 
my  boyish  fancies,  and,  as  I  indulged  them, 
again  "there  grew  up  the  hope  within  me 
that  a  brighter  day  was  yet  to  beam  on  my 
own  fortunes,  when  I  should  do  that  which 
even  in  his  eyes  might  seem  worthy.     His 
very   reproaches   stirred   my   courage  and 
nerved  my  heart.     There  was  a  combat — 
there  was  a  battle-field  before  me,  in  which 
my  whole  fame  and  honor  lay  ;  and  could 
I  but  succeed  in  making  him  confess  that 
he  had  wronged  me,  Avhat  pride  was  in  the 
thought.     "Yes,"  said  I,  again  and  again, 
"a   devotion    to   him  such  as  I  can   offer 
must  have  success  :   one  who,  like  me,  has 
neither  home,  nor  friends,  nor  country,  to 
share  his  heart,  must  have  room   in  it  for 
one  passion,  and  that  shall  be  glory.     She 
whom  alone  I  could  have  loved — I  dared 
not  confess  I  did  love  her — never  could  be 
mine.     Life  must  have  its  object,  and  what 
so  noble   as   that   before  me."     My   very 
dreams  caught  up  the  infatuation  of  my 
waking   thoughts — and   images   of  battle, 
deadly    contests,    and    terrific    skirmishes 
were  constantly  passing  before  me  ;  and  I 
actually    went   my   daily   rounds    of    duty 
buried  "in  these  thoughts,  and  lost  to  every- 
thing save  what  ministered  to  my  excited 
imagination. 

We  who  lived  far  away  on  the  distant 
frontier  could  but  collect  from  the  journals 
the  state  of  excitement  and  enthusiasm  into 
which  every  class  of  the  capital  were  thrown 
by  Napoleon's  elevation  to  the  monarchy. 
Never,  perhaps,  in  any  country,  did  the 
current  of  popular  favor  run  in  a  stream  so 
united.  The  army  hailed  him  as  their 
brother  of  the  sword,  and  felt  the  proud 
distinction  that  the  chief  of  the  Empire 
was  chosen  from  their  ranks.     The  civilian 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OUBS." 


390 


saw  the  restoration  of  monarchy  as  the 
pledge  of  that  security  winch  alone  was 
wanting  to  consolidate  national  prosperity. 
The  clergy,  however  they  may  have  dis- 
trusted his  sincerity,  could  not  but  ac- 
knowledge that  to  his  influence  was  owing 
the  return  of  the  ancient  faith;  and,  save 
the  Vendeans,  broken  and  discomfited, 
and  the  scattered  remnants  of  the  Jacobin 
party,  discouraged  by  the  fate  of  Moreau, 
none  raised  a  voice  against  him.  A  few  of 
the  old  Republicans,  among  whom  was 
Carnot,  did,  it  is  true,  proclaim  their  dis- 
sent ;  but  so  moderately,  and  with  so  little 
of  partisan  spirit,  as  to  call  forth  a  eulo- 
gium  on  their  honorable  conduct  from 
Napoleon  himself. 

The  mighty  change  which  was  to  undo 
all  the  long  and  arduous  struggles  for 
liberty,  which  took  years  in  their  accom- 
plishment, was  effected  in  one  burst  of 
national  enthusiasm.  Surrounded  by 
nations  on  whose  friendship  they  dared 
not  reckon,  at  war  with  their  most  powerful 
enemy,  England,  France  saw  herself  de- 
pendent on  the  genius  of  one  great  man  ; 
and  beheld,  too,  the  formidable  conspiracy 
for  his  assassination,  coupled  with  the 
schemes  against  her  own  independence. 
He  became  thus  mdissolubly  linked  with 
her  fortunes — self-interest  and  gratitude 
pointed  both  in  the  same  direction  to  secure 
his  services  ;  and  the  imperial  crown  was, 
indeed,  less  the  reward  of  the  past,  than 
the  price  of  the  future.  Even  they  who 
loved  him  least,  felt  that  in  his  guidance 
there  was  safety ;  and  that,  without  him, 
the  prospect  was  dark,  and  dreary,  and 
threatening.  Another  element  which 
greatly  contributed  to  the  same  effect,  was 
the  social  rum  caused  by  the  Revolution  ; 
the  destruction  of  all  commerce,  the  for- 
feiture of  property,  had  thrown  every  class 
into  the  service  of  the  government.  Men 
gladly  advocated  a  change  by  which  the 
ancient  forms  of  a  monarchy  might  be  re- 
stored, and  with  them  the  long  train  of 
patronage  and  appointments,  their  inevi- 
table attendants.  Even  the  old  families  of 
the  kingdom  hailed  the  return  of  an  order 
of  things  which  might  include  them  in  the 
favors  of  the  Crown  ;  and  the  question  now 
was,  what  rank  or  class  should  be  foremost 
in  tendering  their  allegiance  to  the  new 
sovereign.  We  should  hesitate  ere  we  con- 
demn the  sudden  impulse  by  which  many 
were  driven  at  this  period.  Confiscation 
and  exile  had  done  much  to  break  the  spirit 
of  even  the  hardiest ;  and  the  very  return 
to  the  institutions  m  which  all  their  ancient 
prejudices  were  involved,  seemed  a  pledge 
against  the  tyranny  of  the  mass. 


As  for  Napoleon  himself,  each  step  in  his 
proud  career  seemed  to  evoke  the  spirit 
oecessary  to  duvet   it   -the  resources  of  his 

mighty  intellect  appeared  wnh  every  new 
drain  on  i  hem,  only  t  lie  more  inexhaustible. 
Animated  through  his  whole  life  by  the 
one  great  principle,  the  aggrandizement  of 
France  —  Ins  vast  intelligence  gathering 
strength  with  his  own  increase  of  power, 
enabled  him  to  cultivate  every  element  of 
national  greatness,  and  mold  their  ener- 
gies to  his  will,  till  at  length  the  nation 
seemed  but  one  vast  body,  of  which  he  was 
j  the  heart,  the  impulse,  that  sent  the  life- 
.  blood  bounding  through  all  its  arteries, 
and  with  whose  beating  pulses  every,  even 
the  most  remote  portion,  throbbed  in  uni- 
son. 

The  same  day  that  established  the  Em- 
pire, declared  the  rank  and  dignity  accord- 
ed to  each  member  of  the  royal  family, 
with  the  titles  to  be  borne  by  the  ministers 
and  other  high  officers  of  the  Crown.  The 
next  step  was  the  creation  of  a  new  order 
of  nobility — one  which,  without  ancient 
lineage  or  vast  possessions,  could  still  com- 
mand the  respect  and  admiration  of  all — 
the  marshals  of  France.  The  names  of 
Berth ier,  Murat,  Augereau,  Massena,  Ber- 
nadotte,  Key,  Soult,  Lannes,  Mortier, 
Davoust,  Bessieres,  were  enough  to  throw 
a  blaze  of  luster  on  the  order  ;  and  had  it 
not  been  for  the  omission  of  Macdonald's 
name  in  this  glorious  list,  public  enthu- 
siasm had  been  complete  ;  but  then  he  was 
the  friend  of  Moreau,  and  Bonaparte  "did 
not  forgive." 

The  restoration  of  the  old  titles,  so  long 
in  abeyance,  the  return  to  the  pomp  and 
state  of  monarchy,  seemed  like  a  national 
fete,  and  Paris  became  the  scene  of  a  splen- 
did festivity  and  a  magnificence  unknown 
for  many  years  past.  It  was  necessary  for 
the  new  Court  to  make  its  impression  on 
the  world,  and  the  endeavor  was  to  eclipse, 
by  luxury  and  splendor,  the  grandeur 
which,  in  the  days  of  the  Bourbons,  was  an 
heirloom  of  royalty.  To  this  end  function- 
aries and  officers  of  the  palace  were  ap- 
pointed in  myriads— brilliant  and  costly 
uniforms  adopted — courtly  titles  and  cere- 
monial observances  increased  without  end 
—and  etiquette,  carried  to  a  pitch  of  strict- 
ness which  no  former  reign  had  ever  exhi- 
bited, now  regulated  every  department  of 
the  state. 

While,  however,  nothing  was  too  minute 
or  too  trivial,  provided  that  it  bore  even  in 
the  remotest  way  on  the  re-establishment 
of  that  throne  he  had  so  long  and  so  ar- 
dently desired,  Napoleon's  great  mind  was 
!  eagerly  bent  upon  the  necessity  of  giving  to 


.!()<! 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


the  Empire  one  of  those  astounding  evi- 
dences of  his  genius,  which  marked  him  as 
above  ;dl  oilier  men.  He  wished  to  show 
io  France-  that  the  crown  had  devolved 
upon  the  rightful  successor  to  Charle- 
magne, and  to  prove  to  the  army  that  the 
purple  mantle  of  royalty  could  not  conceal 
the  spur  of  the  warrior ;  and  thus,  while 
all  believed  him  occupied  with  the  ordina- 
ry routine  of  the  period,  his  ambitious 
thoughts  vere  carrying  him  away  across 
the  Pyrenees,  or  beyond  the  Danube,  io 
battle-fields  of  even  greater  glory  than  ever, 
and  to  conquests  prouder  than  all  his  for- 
mer ones. 

The  same  power  of  concentrativeness  that 
he  so  eminently  possessed  himself,  he  im- 
parted, as  if  by  magic,  to  his  government. 
Paris  was  France.  To  the  capital  flocked 
all  whose  talent  or  zeal  prompted  them  to 
seek  for  advancement.  The  Emperor  was 
not  only  the  fountain  of  all  honor,  but  of 
all  emolument  and  place.  No  patronage 
was  exercised  without  his  permission,  and 
none  was  conferred  without  the  conviction 
that  some  stanch  adherent  was  secured, 
whose  friendship  was  ratified,  or  whose  for- 
mer enmity  was  conciliated. 

Thus  passed  the  year  that  followed  his 
accession  to  the  throne — that  brilliant  pa- 
geant of  a  nation's  enthusiasm  rendering 
tribute  to  the  majesty  of  intellect.  At 
length  the  period  of  inaction  seemed  draw- 
ing to  a  close  ;  and  a  greater  activity  in  the 
war  department,  and  a  new  levy  of  troops, 
betokened  the  approach  of  some  more  ener- 
getic measures.  Men  whispered  that  the 
English  expedition  was  about  to  sail,  and 
reinforcements  of  ammunition  and  artillery 
were  dispatched  to  the  coast  ;  when  sud- 
denly came  the  news  of  Trafalgar  :  Ville- 
neuve  was  beaten — his  fleet  annihilated — 
the  whole  combination  of  events  destroyed 
— and  England,  again  triumphant  on  the 
element  she  had  made  her  own,  hurled  de- 
fiance at  the  threats  of  her  enemy.  The 
same  dispatch  that  brought  the  intelligence 
to  Mayence  told  us  to  be  in  readiness  for  a, 
movement,  but  when,  or  where  to,  none  of 
us  could  surmise.  Still  detachments  from 
various  corps  stationed  about  were  marched 
into  the  garrison,  skeleton  regiments  com- 
manded to  make  up  their  deficiencies,  and 
a  renewed  energy  was  everywhere  percepti- 
ble. At  last,  toward  the  middle  of  Au- 
gust, I  was  sent  for  by  the  general  in  com- 
mand of  the  fortress,  and  informed  that 
General  d'Auvergne  had  been  promoted  to 
the  command  of  a  cavalry  brigade  stationed 
at  Coblentz. 

"You  are  to  join  him  there  immediately," 
continued  he  ;  "  but  here  is  a  note  from  him- 


self,  which   probably    will    explain  everj 
thing." 

And  with  that  he  handed  me  a  small 
sealed  letter.  It  was  the  first,  save  on 
purely  regimental  matters,  I  had  ever  receiv- 
ed from  him,  and  somehow  1  felt  unusually 
anxious  about  its  contents.  It  ran  in  lb 
words  : 

"  My  Dear  B., — His  Majesty  has  just 
sent  for  me,  and,  most  graciously  esteeming 
me  not  yet  too  old  to  serve  him,  has  given  me 

the  command  of  a  brigade — late  the  12th, 
now  to  be  called  '  D'Auvergne's  Cavalry.'  I 
would  willingly  have  mentioned  your  name 
for  promotion,  to  which  your  zeal  and  ac- 
tivity would  well  entitle  you,  but  deemed 
it  better  to  let  your  claim  come  before  the 
Emperor's  personal  notice— which  an  op- 
portunity will,  I  trust,  soon  permit  of  its 
doing.  His  Majesty,  with  a  kindness 
which  the  devotion  of  a  life  could  not  re- 
pay, has  also  interested  himself  personally 
for  me  in  a  quarter  where  only  his  influ- 
ence could  have  proved  successful — but  the 
explanation  of  this  I  reserve  for  your  arri- 
val. And  now  I  request  that  you  will  lose 
no  time  in  repairing  to  Paris — where  I  shall 
expect  to  see  you  by  Tuesday. — Yours. 

"  D'Auvergne,  Lieut. -General." 

This  strange  paragraph  puzzled  me  not 
a  little  ;  nor  could  I,  by  any  exercise  of  in- 
genuity, find  out  even  a  plausible  meaning 
for  it.     I  read  it  over  and  over,  weighing 
and  canvassing  every  word,  and  torturing 
each  syllable— but  all  to  no  purpose.     Had 
the  general  been  some  youthful  but  un- 
happy lover,  to  forward  whose  suit  the  Em- 
peror had  lent  his  influence,  then  had  I 
understood  the  allusion  ;  but  with  the  old 
weather-beaten   officer,    whose   hairs  were 
blanched  with  years  and  service,  the  very 
thought  of  such  a  thing  was  too  absurd. 
Yet  what  could  be  the  royal  favor  so  lav- 
ishly  praised  :    he  needed  no  intercession 
with  the  Empress — at  least  I  remembered 
well  how  marked  the  kindness  of  Josephine 
j  was  toward  him  in  former  times.     But  to 
;  what  use   guessing  ?     Thoughts,  by  long 
!  revolving,  often  become  only  the  more  en- 
I  tangled,  and  we  lose  sight  of  the  real  diffi- 
culty in  canvassing  our  own  impressions 
I  concerning  it.     And  so  from  this  text  did 
i  I  spin  away  a  hundred  fancies  that  occu- 
i  pied  me  the  whole  road  to  Paris,  nor  left 
me  till  the  din  and  movement  of  the  great 
j  capital  banished  all  other  reflections. 

Arrangements  had  been  made  for  my  re- 
ception at  the  Rue  do  Rohan,  but  I  learned 
that  the  general  was  at  Versailles  with  the 
\  Court,  and  only  came  up  to  Paris  once  or 


PHOTO  EUCTKOTtPt    CQ.hfY 


AT   THIS    INSTANT    A   HEAVY   HAND   FELL   UPON    MY    MIOVLDEK,    AND,    PASSING   DOWN   MY   ARM. 
SEIZED   ME   BY    THE   WHIST.      (P.  402.) 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS/' 


401 


twice  each  week.  His  direction  to  me 
was,  to  wait  for  Iris  arrival,  and  not  to  leave 
the  city  on  any  account. 

With  what  a  strange  feeling  did  I  survey 
the  Palace  of  the  Tuileries — the  scene  of 
my  first  moment  of  delighted  admiration 
of  her  I  now  loved — and,  alas  !  of  my  first 
step  in  the  long  catalogue  of  my  misfor- 
tunes. I  lingered  about  the  gardens  with  a 
fascination  1  could  not  account  for  ;  my 
destiny  seemed  somehow  linked  with  the 
spot,  and  I  could  not  reason  myself  out  of 
the  notion  but  that  there,  in  that  great 
pile,  the  fate  of  my  whole  life  was  to  be  de- 
cided. 

My  entire  day  was  passed  in  this  way, 
and  evening  found  me  seated  on  one  of  the 
benches  near  the  windows  of  the  pavilion, 
where  I  watched  the  lusters  in  the  long  gal- 
lery as  one  by  one  they  burst  into  light, 
and  saw  the  gilt  candelabras  twinkling  as 
each  taper  was  illuminated.  It  was  an  even- 
ing reception  of  the  Emperor,  and  I  could 
mark  the  vast  assemblage,  in  every  variety 
of  uniform,  that  filled  the  salons.  At 
length  the  drums  beat  for  strangers  to  leave 
the  gardens,  the  patrols  passed  on,  and 
gradually  the  crowded  walks  became  thinner 
and  thinner,  the  sounds  of  the  drum  grew 
fainter,  and  finally  the  whole  space  became 
still  and  noiseless  ;  not  a  voice  was  to  be 
heard,  not  a  step  moved  on  the  gravel.  I 
knew  that  the  gates  were  now  locked,  and 
yet  I  stayed  on,  glad  to  be  alone,  and  at 
leisure  to  dream  away  among  the  fancies 
that  kept  ever  rising  to  my  mind,  and  to 
follow  out  the  trains  of  thought  that  ever 
and  anon  opened  before  me. 

As  the  hour  grew  later,  and  the  salons 
filled  more  and  more,  the  windows  were 
opened  along  the  terrace  to  give  air,  and  I 
could  hear  the  continued  murmur  of  hun- 
dreds of  voices  conversing,  while  at  times 
the  sound  of  laughter  rose  above  the  rest. 
What  a  rush  of  thoughts  came  on  me  as  I 
sat ;  how  did  I  picture  to  myself  the  dark 
intrigues,  the  subtle  plots  of  wily  diploma- 
tists, the  bold  and  daring  aspirations  of  the 
brave  soldiers,  the  high  hopes,  and  the  am- 
bitious yearnings,  that  were  all  commingled 
there,  grouped  around  him  whose  dreams 
were  of  universal  empire.  While  I  mused, 
the  night  glided  on,  and  the  solemn  sound 
of  the  bell  of  Notre-Dame  proclaimed  mid- 
night. I  nowT  could  mark  that  the  salons 
were  thinning,  and  the  unceasing  din  of 
carriages  in  the  "place"  announced  the 
departure  of  the  guests.  In  little  more 
than  half  an  hour  the  great  gallery  was 
empty,  and  but  a  few  groups  remained  in 
the  apartments  adjoining  ;  even  they  soon 
departed,  and  then  I  could  see  the  servants 
vol.  i.— 26 


passing  from  room  to  room  extinguishing 
the  lights,  and  soon  the  great  facade  of  the 
palace-was  wrapped  in  darkness  :  a  twink- 
ling light  appeared  here  and  therefor  some 
time,  but  it  too  went  out.  The  night  was 
calm,  and  still,  and  sultry  ;  not  a  leaf 
stirred,  and  the  heavy  tread  of  the  senti- 
nels, as  they  paced  the  marble  vestibule, 
was  heard  plainly  where  I  stood. 

How  full  of  thought  to  me  was  that  vast 
pile,  nowr  shrouded  in  the  gloom  of  night. 
What  bold,  ambitious  deeds — what  dreams 
of  empire — had  not  been  conceived  there  ! 
The  great  of  other  days,  indeed,  entered 
little  into  my  mind,  as  I  remembered  it 
was  the  home  of  him,  the  greatest  of  them 
all.  How  terrible,  too,  it  was  to  think, 
that  within  that  silent  palace,  which 
seemed  sleeping  with  the  tranquil  quiet  of 
an  humble  cottage,  the  dreadful  plans 
which  were  to  convulse  the  world,  to  shake 
thrones  and  dynasties,  to  make  of  Europe  a 
vast  battle-field,  were  now  devising.  The 
masses  of  dark  cloud  that  hung  heavily  in 
the  air,  obscuring  the  sky,  and  shutting  out 
every  star,  seemed  to  my  fevered  imagina- 
tion an  augury  of  evil  ;  and  the  oppressive, 
loaded  atmosphere,  though  perfumed  with 
the  odor  of  flowers,  sunk  heavily  on  the 
spirits.  Again  the  hour  rang  out,  and  I 
remembered  that  the  gates  of  the  garden 
were  now  closed  for  the  night,  and  that  I 
should  remain  where  I  was  till  daylight 
liberated  me.  My  mind  was,  however,  too 
full  of  its  own  thoughts  to  make  me  care 
for  sleep,  and  I  strolled  along  the  gloomy 
walks  lost  in  reverie. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

A   NIGHT   IN   THE   TUILERIES   GARDENS. 

As  the  night  wore  on,  I  remembered  that 
once  when  a  boy  at  the  Polytechnique,  I 
longed  to  penetrate  one  of  the  little  inclo- 
sures  which  fenced  the  small  flower-gardens 
beside  the  palace,  and  which  were  railed  up 
from  the  public  promenades  by  a  low  iron 
railing.  The  bouquets  of  rich  flowers  that 
grew  there,  sparkling  with  the  light  deAv  of 
a  little  jet  d'eau  that  fell  in  rain-drops  over 
them,  had  often  tempted  my  young  heart; 
but  still,  in  the  daytime,  such  a  transgres- 
sion would  have  been  immediately  pun- 
ished. Now,  with  the  strange  caprice 
which  so  often  prompts  us  in  after  years  to 
do  that  which  in  youth  we  wished,  but 
could  not  accomplish,  I  wandered  toward 
the  gardens,  and  crossing  over  the  low  fence, 
entered  the  parterre  :  each  step  awoke  the 


402 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


sleeping  perfume  of  t.he  flowers,  and  I 
strolled  along  the  velvet  turf  until  I 
reached  a  low  bench,  half  covered  with 
honeysuckle  and  woodbine.  Bere  I  threw 
myself  down,  and,  wrapping  my  cloak 
around  me,  resolved  to  rest  till  daybreak. 
The  stillness  of  all  around,  the  balmy  air, 
and  my  own  musings,  gradually  conspired 
to  make  me  drowsy,  and  I  slept. 

My  sleep  could  not  have  been  long,  when 
I  was  awakened  by  a  noise  close  beside  me. 
I  started  up,  and  looked  about,  and  for 
some  seconds  I  could  scarcely  credit  that  I 
was  not  still  dreaming.  Not  more  than  a 
dozen  paces  from  where  I  lay,  and  where 
before  the  dark  walls  of  the  palace  rose  in 
unbroken  blackness,  was  now  a  chamber, 
brilliantly  lighted  by  several  wax-lights 
that  stood  on  a  table.  At  the  window, 
which  opened  to  the  ground,  and  led  into 
the  garden,  stood  the  figure  of  a  man,  but 
from  his  position  before  the  light  I  could 
not  remark  more  than  that  he  wore  epau- 
lettes. It  was  the  noise  of  the  opening  jal- 
ousies which  awoke  me  ;  and  I  could  see 
his  hand  stretched  out,  as  if  to  ascertain 
whether  or  not  it  was  raining.  At  the  table 
I  could  perceive  another  person,  on  whose 
uniform  the  light  fell  strongly,  displaying 
many  a  cross  and  star,  which  twinkled  with 
every  stir  he  made.  He  was  busily  engaged 
writing,  and  never  lifted  his  head  from  the 
paper.  The  walls  of  the  room  were  covered 
with  shelves,  filled  with  books  ;  and  on  the 
chairs  about,  and  even  on  the  floor,  lay 
maps  and  drawings  in  every  disorder  ;  a 
sword  and  belt,  as  if  just  taken  off,  lay  on 
the  table  among  the  writing  materials,  and 
a  cocked  hat  beside  them.  While  I  noticed 
these  details  my  very  heart  was  chill  within 
me.  The  dark  figure  at  the  window,  which 
stirred  not,  seemed  as  if  turned  toward  me, 
and  more  than  once  I  almost  thought  I 
could  see  his.  eyes  bent  upon  me.  This 
was,  however,  but  the  mere  suggestion  of 
my  own  fears,  for  in  the  shade  of  the  seat 
no  light  whatever  fell,  and  I  was  perfectly 
concealed. 

In  the  deep  stillness  I  could  hear  the 
scraping  sound  of  the  pen  on  the  paper, 
and  scarcely  dared  to  breathe,  lest  I  should 
cause  discovery,  wdien  the  figure  retired 
from  the  window,  and  moved  toward  the 
table  ;  for  some  minutes  he  appeared  to 
stoop  over  a  large  map,  ivhich  lay  out- 
stretched before  him,  and  across  which  I 
could  see  his  finger  moving  rapidly.  Sud- 
denly he  stood  erect,  and  in  a  voice  which 
even  now  rings  within  my  heart,  said  : 
"  It  must  be  so,  Duroc ;  by  any  other 
route  Bernadottc  will  be  too  late  !  "  What 
was  the  reply  I  know  not,  such  terror  now 


i  fell  over  me.  It  was  the  Emperor  himself 
who  spoke.  It  was  he  who  the  instant 
:  before  was  standing  close  beside  me  at  the 
window  ;  and  thus,  a  second  time  in  my 
life,  did  I  become  the  unwilling  eavesdrop- 
per of  the  man  1  most  feared  and  respected 
of  all  the  world.  Before  I  could  summon 
resolution  to  withdraw,  Napoleon  spoke 
again.  "  Hardenberg,"  said  he,  in  a  tone 
of  contemptuous  passion,-1-"  Hardenberg 
is  but  a  Prussian  ;  the  event  will  satisfy  his 
scruples  ;  besides,  if  they  do  talk  about  inva- 
sion of  territory,  you  can  reply  ;  the  Mar- 
graves were  always  open  to  belligerent 
parties  ;  remind  them  of  what  took  place 
in  "96,  and  again  in  1800,  though,  parbleu, 
the  souvenir  may  not  be  so  pleasant  a  one  ; 
protract  the  discussion,  at  all  events,  Du- 
roc ;  time  ! — time  !  Then,"  added  he, 
after  a  brief  pause,  "let  them  advance, 
and  they'll  never  repass  the  Danube;  and 
if  they  wait  for  me,  I'll  fall  upon  them 
here— here  between  Ulm  and  Augsburg. 
You.  must,  however,  start  for  Berlin  at 
once."  At  this  instant  a  heavy  hand  fell 
upon  my  shoulder,  and,  passing  down  my 
arm,  seized  me  by  the  wrist.  I  started 
back,  and  beheld  a  dragoon,  for  so  his  hel- 
met and  cloak  bespoke,  of  enormous  sta- 
ture, who,  motioning  me  to  silence,  led  me 
softly  and  with  noiseless  step  along  the 
flower-beds,  as  if  fearful  of  attracting  the 
Emperor's  notice.  My  limbs  tottered 
beneath  me  as  I  went,  for  the  dreadful 
imputation  an  accident  might  fix  on  me, 
stared  on  me  with  all  its  awful  conse- 
quences. Without  a  word  on  either  side 
Ave  reached  the  little  railing,  crossed  it, 
and  regained  the  open  park,  when  the 
soldier,  placing  himself  in  front  of  me, 
said,  in  a  deep,  low  voice, 

"  Your  name — who  are  you  ?  " 

"  An  officer  of  the  huitieme  regiment  of 
hussars,"  said  I,  boldly. 

"We  shall  see  that  presently,"  replied 
he,  in  a  tone  of  disbelief.  "  How  came  you 
here?" 

In  a  few  words  I  explained  how,  having 
remained  too  late  in  the  garden,  I  preferred 
to  pass  my  night  on  a  bench,  to  the 
unpleasantness  of  being  brought  up  before 
the  officer  on  duty,  adding,  that  it  was  only 
on  the  very  moment  gf  his  coming  that  I 
awoke. 

"I  know  that,"  interrupted  he,  in  a  less 
surly  voice.  "I  found  you  sleeping,  and 
feared  to  awake  you  suddenly,  lest  in  the 
surprise  a  word  or  a  cry  should  escape 
you — one  syllable  had  cost  your  head." 

In  the  tone  of  these  last  few  words  there 
was  something  I  thought  I  could  recognize, 
and  resolving  at  a  bold  venture  in  such  an 


TOM   BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


403 


emergency  as  I  found  myself  placed,  I  said 
at  a  hazard, 

"  The  better  fortune  mine,  that  I  fell 
into  the  hands  of  a  kind  as  well  as  of  a 
brave  soldier — the  Corporal  Pioche." 

"  Sacristi  !  You  know  me  then  !  "  cried 
he,  thunderstruck. 

"  To  be  sure  I  do.  Could  I  be  an  aide- 
de-camp  to  the  General  d'Auvergne,  and 
not  have  heard  of  Pioche  ?  " 

"  An  aide-de-camp  of  the  general,"  said 
he,  starting  back,  as  he  carried  his  hand 
to  the  salute.  "Pardon,  man  officier ;  but 
you  know  that  duty — " 

"Quite  true  ;  it  was  all  my  own  indis- 
cretion. And  now,  Pioche,  if  you'll  keep 
me  company  here  till  daybreak — it  cannot 
be  far  off  now — the  light  will  soon  satisfy 
you  that  my  account  of  myself  is  a  true 
one." 

"Willingly,  sir,"  said  the  gruff  cuiras- 
sier :  "  my  patrol  is  to  watch  the  parterres 
from  the  pavilion  to  the  a  1 1 6e  yonder,  and, 
if  you  please,  we'll  take  up  our  quarters 
on  this  bench." 

They  who  know  not  the  strange  mixture 
of  deference  and  familiarity  of  which  the 
relation  between  officer  and  soldier  is  made 
up   in   the    French    service,    will    perhaps 
wonder  at  the  tone  of  almost   equality  in 
which  we  now  conversed.     But  such  is  the 
case  ;    the   revolutionary   armies  acknowl- 
edged no   other  gradations   of    rank    than 
such   as    the    service    conferred,    nor    any 
degree  of  superiority  save   that    derivable 
from  greater  ability,  or  more  daring  hero- 
ism ;  and  although  no  troops  more  impli- 
citly obeyed  the  commands  of  their  officers, 
the  occasion  of  discipline   over,  a  perfect 
feeling   of    equality  reigned    amongst    all, 
whether  they  wore  the  epaulettes  of  Colo- 
nel or  carried  a  musket  in  the  ranks.    With 
time,  and  the  changes  the  consulate  had 
introduced,  much  of  this  excessive   fami- 
liarity   was    suppressed  ;    still    it  was  no 
uncommon  thing  to  hear  the  humble  rank 
and  file  address  the  general  of  division  as 
"  thou  " — the  expression    of  closest  friend- 
ship, probably  dating  from    the    hours  of 
schoolboy  attachment :  nor  was  the  officer 
of   rank  thought   less   of   because,   in    the 
hours  of    off-duty,    he   mixed    freely  with 
those  who  had  been  his  companions  through 
life,  and  talked  with  them  as  brothers.     It 
is  probable  that  in  no  other  nation  such  a 
course  could  have  been  practiced  without  a 
total  subversion  of  all  respect,  and  the  ruin 
of   all  habits   of   order.     The  Frenchman 
is,  however,  essentially  military  ;  not  merely 
warlike,  like  the  inhabitants  of  Great  Brit- 
ain, his  mintl  ever  inclines  to  the  details  of 
war  as  an  art.     It   is  in  generalship  he 


glories,  not  the  mere  conflict  of  force  ;  and 
the  humblest  soldier  in  the  army  takes  an 
interest  in  the  great  game  of  tactics,  which 
in  any  other  people  would  be  quite  incredi- 
ble. Hence,  he  submits  to  the  control 
which  otherwise  he  could  not  endure  :  for 
this,  he  yields  to  command  at  the  hands  of 
one,  who,  although  his  equal  in  all  other 
respects,  he  here  acknowledges  as  his 
superior.  He  knows,  too,  that  the  grade 
of  officer  is  open  to  merit  alone,  and  he 
feels  that  the  epaulette  may  be  his  own  one 
day.  Such  causes  as  these,  constantly  in 
operation,  could  not  fail  to  raise  the  morale 
of  an  army  ;  nor  can  we  wonder  that  from 
such  a  source  were  derived  many,  if  not 
most,  of  the  great  names  that  formed  the 
marshals  of  France. 

Again,  to  this  military  spirit  the  French 
owe  the  perfection  of  their  tirailleur  force 
— the  consummate  skill  of  independent 
parties,  of  which  every  campaign  gave  evi- 
dence. Napoleon  found  this  spirit  in  the 
nation,  and  spared  nothing  to  give  it  its 
fullest  development.  He  quickly  saw  to 
what  height  of  enthusiasm  a  people  could 
be  brought,  to  whom  a  cross  or  a  decora- 
tion, an  epaulette  or  a  sabre  of  honor,  were 
deemed  the  ample  rewards  of  every  daring 
and  of  every  privation  ;  and  never  in  any 
age,  or  in  any  country,  was  chivalry  so  uni- 
versally spread  over  the  wide  surface  of  a 
people.  With  them,  rank  claimed  no  ex- 
ception from  fatigue  or  suffering.  The 
officer  fared  little  better  than  the  soldier, 
on  a  march  ;  in  a  battle,  he  was  only  more 
exposed  to  danger  ;  by  daring  only  could  he 
win  his  way  upward  :  and  an  emulative 
ardor  was  continually  maintained,  which 
was  ever  giving  to  the  world  instances  of 
individual  heroism,  far  more  brilliant  than 
all  the  famed  achievements  of  the  cru- 
saders. 

This  brief  digression,  unnecessary,  per- 
haps, to  many  of  my  readers,  may  serve  to 
explain  to  others  how  naturally  our  conver- 
sation took  the  easy  tone  of  familiar 
equality  ;  nor  will  they  be  surprised  at  the 
abrupt"  question  of  the  cuirassier,  as  he 
said, 

"  Milk  tooinerres  I  lieutenant,  was  it 
from  your  liking  the  post  of  danger  you 
selected  that  bench  yonder  ?  " 

"The  choice  was  a  mere  accident." 
"An  accident,  morbleu!'"  said  he  with  a 
low  laugh.  "  That  was  what  Lasalle  called 
it  at  the  Adige,  when  the  wheel  came  off 
the  eight-pounder  in  the  charge,  and  the 
enemy  carried  off  the  gun.  '  An  accident  ! ' 
said  the  Petit  Caporal  to  him — I  was  close 
by  when  he  said  it — '  will  your  friends  in 
Paris  call  it  an  accident  if  the   "  ordre  dn 


404 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


jour  "  to-morrow  condemn  you  to  l>c  shot  ?'' 
I  know  him  well,"  continued  Pioche,  ''  that 
I  do  ;  I  was  second  bombardier  with  him  at 
Toulon — ay,  and  al  Cairo  too.  I  mind  well 
the  evening  he  came  to  our  quarters — poor 
enough  we  were  at  the  time— no  clothes, 
no  rations.  I  was  cook  to  our  division,  but 
somehow  (here  was  little  duty  in  my  de- 
partment, till  one  day  the  vivandiere's  ass 
— a  brave  beast,  he  was  too,  before  provi- 
sions fell  short — a  spent  shot  took  him  in 
the  flank,  and  killed  him  on  the  spot. 
Sacristi!  what  damage  it  did  ;  all'  the  can- 
teens were  smashed  to  atoms  ;  horn  goblets 
and  platters  knocked  to  pieces  ;  but  worst  of 
all,  a  keg  of  true  Nantz  was  broached,  and 
every  drop  lost.  Poor  Madame  Gougon, 
she  loved  that  ass  as  if  he  had  been  one  of 
the  regiment ;  and  though  we  all  offered 
her  assignatson  our  pay,  for  a  month  each, 
to  give  us  the  carcase,  she  wouldn't  do  it ! 
No,  faith  !  she  would  have  him  buried,  and 
with  funeral  honors  !  Parblen  !  it  was  a 
whim  ;  but  the  poor  thing  was  in  grief,  and 
we  could  not  refuse  her.  I  commanded  the 
party,"  continued  Pioche,  "  and  a  long  dis- 
tance we  had  to  march,  lest  the  shots  might 
be  heard  in  the  quartier  general.  Well,  we 
had  some  trouble  in  getting  the  poor  soul 
away  from  the  grave.  Sacristi  !  she  took 
it  so  much  to  heart,  I  thought  she'd  have 
masses  said  for  him  ;  but  we  did  succeed 
at  last,  and  before  dawn  we  were  all  within 
the  camp  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  The 
whole  of  that  day,  however,  the  ass  was 
never  out  of  our  minds.  It  was  not  grief — 
no,  no!  don't  think  that;  we  were  all 
thinking  of  what  a  sin  it  was  to  have  him 
buried  there — such  a  fine  beast  as  he  was — 
and  not  a  pound  of  meat  to  be  had,  if  you 
were  to  offer  a  nine-pounder  gun  for  it. 
'  He  is  never  the  worse  for  his  funeral,'  said 
1 ;  'remember,  boys,  how  well  preserved  he 
was  in  brandy  before  he  was  buried.  Let's 
have  him  up  again  ! '  No  sooner  was  night 
come,  than  we  set  off  for  the  place  where 
we  laid  him,  and  in  less  than*  two  hours  I 
was  busily  employed  m  making  a  delicious 
salmi  of  his  haunch.  Mille  bombes!  I 
think  I  have  the  smell  of  it  before  nie  ;  it 
was  gibier,  and  the  gravy  was  like  a  puree. 
We  were  all  pleasantly  seated  round  the  fire, 
watching  every  turn  of  the  roast,  when, 
crack!  I  heard  the  noise  of  the  patrol 
bringing  his  gun  to  the  present,  and  before 
we  had  time  to  jump  up,  the  Petit  Caporal 
was  upon  us — he  was  mounted  on  a  little 
dark  Arab,  and  dressed  in  his  gray  surtout. 
"  '  What's  all  this  here  ?'  cried  he,  pull- 
ing up  short,  while  the  barb  sniffed  the  air, 
just  as  if  he  guessed  what  the  meat  was. 
'  Who  has  stolen  this  sheep  ?' 


"'It  is  not  a  slice]),  general,'  said  I, 
stepping  forward,  and  trying  to  hide  the 
long  ladle  I  was  basting  with. 

"'Not  a  sheep — then  it  is  an  ox,  may- 
hap, or  a  calf,"  said  be  again,  with  an  angry 
look. 

"  'Neither,  general,'  said  I  ;  'it  wan  a — 
a — a  beast  of  our  division.' 

"  'A  beast,  of  your  division  !  What  does 
that  mean  ?  No  trifling,  mind  !  Out  with 
it  at  once.  What's  this  ?  Where  did  it 
come  from  ? ' 

"  'An  ass,  may  it  please  you,  sir,'  said  I, 
trembling  all  over,  for  I  saw  he  was  in  a 
rare  passion  ;  and  as  he  repeated  the  word 
after  me,  I  told  him  the  whole  story,  and 
how  we  could  not  suffer  such  capital  prog 
to  be  eaten  by  any  other  than  good  citizens 
of  the  Republic. 

"While  I  was  telling  him  so  much,  the 
rest  stood  round  terrified  ;  they  could  not 
even  turn  the  joint,  though  it  was  burning, 
and  to  say  truth,  I  thought  myself  we  were 
all  in  a  bad  way,  when  suddenly  he  burst 
into  a  fit  of  laughing,  and  said, 

"  '  What  part  of  France  do  these  fellows 
come  from  ? ' 

"  'Alsace,  mon  general,'  was  the  answer 
from  every  one. 

"' I  thought  so,  I  thought  so,'  said  he. 
'Sybarites — all.' 

"'No,  mon  general — grenadiers  of  the 
Fourth — Milhaud's  brigade,'  said  I  ;  and 
with  that  he  turned  away,  and  we  could 
hear  him  laughing  long  after  he  galloped 
off.  I  saw  he  mistook  us,"  said  Pioche, 
"and  that  he  could  not  be  angry  with  the 
old  Fourth." 

"You  must  have  seen  a  great  deal  of 
hardship,  Pioche  ?  "  said  I,  as  became  to  a 
pause  ;  and  wishing  to  draw  him  on,  to 
speak  more  of  his  campaigns. 

"■  Ma  foi,  there  were  few  who  saw  service 
from  '02  to  '97,  had  not  their  share  of  it ; 
but  they  were  brave  times,  too  ;  every  bat- 
tle had  its  day  of  promotion  afterward. 
Le  Petit  Caporal  would  ride  down  the 
ranks  with  his  staff,  looking  for  this  one, 
and  asking  for  that.  '  Where's  the  ad- 
jutant of  the  Sixth  ?  '  'Dead,  mon  gene- 
ral.' 'Where's  the  colonel  of  the  Volti- 
geurs  ?  '  'Badly  wounded.'  'Carry  him 
this  sabre  of  honor.'  'Who  fell  over  the 
Austrian  standard,  and  carried  away  the 
fragment  of  the  drapeau  ?'  'One  of  my 
brave  fellows,  general  ;  here  he  is.'  '  And 
what  is  your  name,  my  brave  fellow  ?  ' 

The  corporal  paused  here,  and  drew  a 
deep  breath  ;  and  after  a  few  seconds' 
pause,  added  in  altered  tone,  "  Sacristi  ! 
they  were  fine  times  I"* 

"  But  what  did  he  say  to  the  soldier  that 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


405 


took  the   colors?"  asked   I,    impatiently. 
"Who  was  he?" 

"It  was  I,"  replied  Pioche  himself,  in  a 
deep  voice,  where  pride  and  devotion  strug- 
gled powerfully  together. 

"You,  Pioche — indeed  !  Well,  what  said 
the  general  when  he  saw  you  ?" 

"  'Ah,  Pioche,'  said  he,  gayly,  'my  old 
friend  of  Toulouse.' 

"'Yes,  general,'  said  I,  'we've  had 
some  warm  work  together.' 

"  'True,  Pioche,  and  may  again,  per- 
haps; but  you  have  been  made  a  corporal 
since  that ;  and  what  am  I  to  do  for  you 
now  ? ' 

"  This  was  a  puzzling  question,  and  I 
did  not  know  how  to  answer  it,  and  he  re- 
peated it  before  I  could  make  up  my  mind. 

" '  Is  there  nothing,  then,  in  which  I 
can  be  of  use  to  Corporal  Pioche  ? ' 

."  'Yes,  mon  general,'  said  I,  '  there  is.' 

"  '  Speak  it  out,  man,  then  ;  what  is 
it?' 

"  'I  wish,  then,  you'd  rate  the  commis- 
sary-general of  our  division  for  one  blunder 
he's  ever  making.  The  powder  they  serve 
us  out  is  always  wet,  and  our  bread  is  as 
hard  as  mitraille.  Neither  bayonets  nor 
teeth  will  last  forever,  you  know,  general.' 
And  he  burst  out  a-laughing  before  I 
finished. 

"  'Rest  assured,  Pioche,  I'll  look  to 
this/  said  he  ;  and  he  kept  his  word."' 

"But  why  didn't  you  ask  for  promo- 
tion?" said  I;  "what  folly,  was  it  not, 
to  throw  away  such  a  chance  ?  You  might 
have  been  an  officer  ere  this." 

"No,"  replied  he,  with  a  sorrowful 
shake  of  the  head  ;  "  that  was  impossi- 
ble." 

"  But  why  so  ?  Bonaparte  knew  you 
well ;  he  often  noticed  you." 

"True — all  true,"  said  he,  more  sadly 
than  before  ;  "  but  then — " 

"  What,  then  ?  "  asked  I,  with  more  of 
interest  than  delicacy  at  the  moment. 

"  I  never  learned  to  read,"  said  Pioche, 
in  a  low  voice,  which  trembled  with  agita- 
tion, while  he  drew  his  swarthy  hand  across 
his  eyes,  and  was  silent. 

The  few  words  so  spoken  thrilled  most 
powerfully  within  me.  I  saw  that  I  had 
awakened  the  saddest  thoughts  of  the  poor 
fellow's  heart,  and  would  have  given  worlds 
to  be  able  to  recall  my  question.  Here 
then  was  the  corroding  sorrow  of  his  life — 
the  grief  that  left  its  impress  on  his  stern 
features,  and  tinged  with  care  the  open 
brow  of  the  brave  soldier.  Each  moment- 
our  silence  was  prolonged  made  it  still 
more  poignant,  but  I  made  an  effort  to 
break  it,  and  happily  with  success. 


"After  all,  Pioche,"  said  I,  laving  my 
hand  on  his  arm,  "I  would  willingly  ex- 
change my  epaulettes  for  tin  -  on 
your  sleeve,  to  have  had  Bonaparte  speak  to 
me  as  he  lias  spoken  to  you  ;  that  w; 
prouder  distinction  than  any  other,  and  will 
be*a  fonder  recollection,  too,  hereaftei 

"Do  you  think  so,  mon  lieutenant?" 
said  the  poor  fellow,  turning  round  quick- 
ly, as  a  faint  smile  played  aboul  his  features. 
"Do  you  think  so?  Sacristi!  I  have  said 
as  much  to  myself  sometimes,  when  I've 
been  alone  ;  and  then  I've  almost  thought 
I  could  hear  his  kind,  soft  voice  ringing  in 
my  ears — for  it  is  kind  and  soft  as  a 
woman's,  when  he  pleases,  though,  par  bleu  ! 
it  can  call  like  a  trumpet  at  other  times, 
ay,  and  tingle  within  your  heart,  till  it  sets 
your  blood  boiling,  and  makes  your  hands 
twitch.  I  mind  well  the  campaign  in  the 
Valais — the  words  keep  dinning  in  my  ears 
to  this  hour." 

"  What  was  that,  Pioche  ?  "  said  I,  pleas- 
ed to  see  him  turn  from  the  remembrance 
of  his  own  regrets 

"It  is  a  good  while  past  now — I  forget 
the  year  exactly — but  we  were  marching  on 
Italy,  and  it  was  in  spring  ;  still  the  ground 
was  covered  with  snow  ;  every  night  came 
on  with  a  hailstorm  that  lasted  till  nigh 
daybreak  :  and  when  we  arose  from  the 
bivouac,  we  were  so  stiff  and  frozen  we 
could  not  move.  They  said,  at  the  time, 
something  went  wrong  with  the  commis- 
sariat— but  when  did  it  ever  go  right,  I 
wonder  ?  Ammunition  and  provisions 
were  always  late  ;  and  though  the  general 
used  to  drive  away  a  commissary  every  week 
or  ten  days  for  misconduct,  the  new  ones 
that  came  turned  out  just  as  bad.  The 
Petit  Gaporal  kept  sending  them  word  to 
Paris  not  to  send  down  any  more  •  savants,' 
but  a  good  honest  man,  with  common  sense 
and  active  habits;  but,  parbleu!  birds  of 
that  feather  must  have  been  rare  just  then, 
for  we  never  could  catch  one  of  them. 
Whatever  was  the  cause,  we  never  were  so 
ill  off  :  our  shakos  were  like  wet  paper,  and 
took  any  sliape  ;  and  out  of  ridicule  we  used 
to  come  upon  parade  with  them  fashioned 
into  three-cocked  hats,  and  pointed  caps, 
and  slouched  beavers.  The  officers  couldn't 
say  a  word,  you  know,  all  this  time.  It 
was  not  our  fault  if  Ave  were  in  such  mis- 
ery. Then,  as  to, shoes— a  few  could  boast 
of  the  upper-leathers,  but  a  sole  or  a  heel 
was  not  to  be  found  in  a  company.  Our 
coats  were  actually  in  rags,  and  a  pivot 
sentry  looked  for  all  the  world  like  a  flag- 
staff, as  he  stood  fluttering  in  the  wind. 

"We  bore  up,  however,  as  well  as  we 
could  for  some  time,  grumbling  occasion- 


400 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


ally  over  our  condition,  and  sometimes 
laughing  at  it,  when  we  had  the  heart ;  till 
at  last,  when  we  saw  the  new  convoy  arrive, 
and  all  the  biscuits  distributed  among  the 
young  regiments  and  the  new  conscripts, 
we  could  endure  it  no  longer,  and  a  terrible 
outcry  arose  among  the  troops.  We  were 
all  drawn  up  on  parade — it  was  an  inspec- 
tion ;  for,  parileu !  though  we  were  as 
ragged  as  scarecrows,  they  would  have  us 
out  twice  a  week  to  review  us,  and  put  us 
through  the  maneuvers.  Scarcely  had  the 
general — it  was  Bonaparte  himself — got  half 
way  down  the  line,  when  a  shout  ran  from 
rank  to  rank — 'Bread!  shoes!  caps!  bis- 
cuits ! ' 

"  *  What  do  I  hear?'  said  Bonaparte, 
standing  up  in  his  stirrups,  and  frowning 
at  the  line.  '  Who  are  the  malcontents, 
that  dare  to  cry  out  on  parade  ?  Let  them 
stand  out.     Let  me  see  them.' 

"And  at  once  more  than  half  the  regi- 
ment of  grenadiers  sprang  forward,  and 
shouted  louder  than  before,  '  Bread  !  bread  ! 
Let  us  have  food  and  clothing  !  IE  we  are 
to  fight,  let  us  not  die  of  hunger  ! ' 

" 'Grenadiers  of  the  Fourth,' cried  he, 
in  a  terrible  voice,  '  to  your  ranks  !  Second 
division  and  third  !' shouted  he,  with  his 
hand  up,  'form  in  square! — carry  arms! 
— present  arms  ! — front  rank,  kneel  ! — 
kneel!'  said  he  again,  louder;  for  you 
know  we  never  did  that  in  those  days. 
However,  every  word  was  obeyed,  and  down 
dropped  the  leading  files  on  their  knees, 
and  there  we  were  rooted  to  the  ground. 
Not  a  man  spoke — all  silent  as  death. 

"  He  then  advanced  to  the  front  of  the 
staff,  and  pointing  his  hand  to  a  convoy  of 
wagons  that  could  just  be  seen  turning  the 
angle  of  the  road,  with  white  flags  flying, 
to  show  what  they  were,  called  out  '  Com- 
missary-general, distribute  full  rations  and 
half  ammunition  to  the  young  regiments — 
half  rations  and  full  ammunition  to  the 
veterans  of  Egypt ! '  A  shout  of  applause 
burst  out,  but  he  cried  louder  than  before 
— '  Silence  in  the  ranks  ! '  Then  taking  off 
his  chapeau,  he  stood  bare-headed  before 
us  ;  and,  in  a  voice  like  a  bugle  that  blows 
the  charge,  he  read  from  a  large  paper  in 
his  hand— 'In  the  name  of  the  French  Re- 
public — one  and  indivisible.  The  Direc- 
tory of  the  nation  decrees — that  the  thanks 
of  the  government  be  given  to  the  Grena- 
diers of  the  Fourth,  who  have  deserved  well 
of  their  country.     Vive  la  Republique  ! ' 

"'Vive  la  Republique!'  shouted  the 
whole  square  in  a  roar,  like  the  sea  itself. 
Who  thought  more  of  hardships 'or  hunger 
then  ?  Our  only  desire  was,  when  we  were 
to  meet  the  enemy  ;  and  many  a  jest  and 


many  a  laugh  went  round,  as  we  loaded  our 
pouches  with  the  new  ammunition. 

"  '  Who's  that  fellow  yonder  ?'  said  Bo- 
naparte, as  he  rode  slowly  down  the  line. 
'I  should  know  him,  I  think.  Isn't  that 
Pioche  ? ' 

"  '  Yes,  mon  general,'  said  I,  saluting 
him.  '  It  is  what  remains  of  poor  Pioche  ; 
parblen !  very  little  more  than  half, 
though.' 

"'Ah!  glutton,'  said  he,  laughing,  'I 
ought  (o  have  guessed  you  were  here  ;  one 
such  gourmand  is  enough  to  corrupt  a 
whole  brigade.' 

"  '  Pioche  is  a  good  soldier,  citizen-gen- 
eral,' said  my  captain,  who  was  an  old 
schoolfellow  of  mine. 

"  'I  know  it,  captain,'  said  the  general. 

"  '  You  were  in  Excelmans's  dragoons, 
Pioche,  if  I  mistake  not.' 

'"Two  years  and  ten  months,  citizen- 
general.' 

"  '  Why  did  you  leave  them,  and  when  ?' 

"'At  Monte  Bello,  with  the  colonel's 
permission.' 

"  'And  the  reason?  ' 

"  '  Morbleu  !  it  was  a  fancy  I  had.  They 
killed  two  horses  under  me  that  day,  and  I 
saw  I  was  not  destined  for  the  cavalry.' 

"'Ha,  ha  ! '  said  he,  with  a  sly  laugh  ; 
'  had  they  been  asses,  the  thing  might  have 
been  different — eh  ?  ' 

" '  Yes.  mon  general,'  said  I,  growing 
red  ;  for  I  knew  what  he  meant. 

"  '  Come,  Pioche,  you  must  go  back  again 
to  your  old  corps  ;  they  want  one  or  two 
like  you — -though,  parbleu  !  you'll  rum  the 
Republic  in  remounts.' 

'"As  you  please  it,  general.' 

"  '  Well,  what  shall  I  do  for  you  besides  ? 
Any  more  commissaries  to  row — eh  ?  Me- 
thinks  no  bad  time  to  gratify  you  in  that 
way. ' 

"  'Ah,  mon  general !  if  you  would  only 
hang  up  one  now  and  then. ' 

'"So  I  intend,  the  next  time  I  hear  of 
any  of  my  soldiers  being  obliged  to  eat  the 
asses  of  the  vivandieres.'  And  with  that 
he  rode  on,  laughing,  though  none,  save 
myself,  knew  what  he  alluded  to,  and,  ma 
foi,  I  was  not  disposed  to  turn  the  laugh 
against  myself  by  telling.  But  there  goes 
the  reveil,  and  I  must  leave  you,  mon  lieu- 
tenant ;  the  gates  will  be  open  in  a  few 
minutes." 

"  Good-by,  Pioche,"  said  I,  "and  many 
thanks  for  your  pleasant  company.  I  hope 
we  shall  meet  again,  and  soon." 

"  I  hope  so,  mon  lieutenant ;  and  if  it 
be  at  a  bivouac  fire,  all  the  better." 

The  gallant  corporal  made  his  military 
salute,  wheeled  about,  stiff  as  if  on  parade, 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS: 


407 


and  departed  ;  while  I,  throwing  my  cloak 
over  my  arm,  turned  into  the  broad  alley 
and  left  the  garden. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

A   STORY  OK    THE   YEAR   '92. 

I  found  everything  in  the  Eue  de  Eohan 
as  I  had  left  it  the  day  before.  General 
d'Auvergne  bad  not  been  there  during  my 
absence,  but  a  messenger  from  Versailles 
brought  intelligence  that  the  Court  would 
arrive  that  evening  in  Paris,  and  in  all 
likelihood  the  general  would  accompany 
them. 

My  day  was  then  at  my  disposal,  and 
having  dressed,  I  strolled  out  to  enjoy  all 
tbe  strange  and  novel  sights  of  the  great 
capital.  They  who  can  carry  their  mem- 
ories back  to  Paris  at  that  period,  may  re- 
member the  prodigious  amount  of  luxury 
and  wealth  so  prodigally  exhibited— the 
equipages,  the  liveries,  the  taste  in  dress, 
were  all  of  the  most  costly  character — the 
very  shops,  too,  vied  with  each  other  in  the 
splendor  and  richness  of  their  display,  and 
court  uniforms  and  ornaments  of  jewelry 
glittered  in  every  window.  Hussar  jackets 
in  all  their  bravery — chapeaux  covered 
v/ith  feather  trimming  and  looped  with 
diamonds — sabres  with  ivory  scabbards  in- 
crusted  with  topaz  and  turquoise,  replaced 
the  simple  costumes  of  the  revolutionary 
era,  as  rapidly  as  did  the  high-sounding 
titles  of  "  Excellence"  and  "  Monseigneur  " 
the  unpretending  designation  of  "citoyen." 
Still,  the  military  feature  of  the  land  was 
in  the  ascendant ;  in  the  phrase  of  the  day, 
it  was  the  "moustache"  that  governed. 
Not  a  street  but  had  its  group  of  officers, 
on  horseback  or  on  foot — regiments  passed 
on  duty,,  or  arrived  from  the  march  at 
every  turn  of  the  way.  The  very  rabble 
kept  time  and  step  as  they  followed,  and 
the  warlike  spirit  animated  every  class  of 
the  population.  All  these  things  minis- 
tered to  my  enthusiasm,  and  set  my  heart 
beating  stronger  for  the  time  when  the 
career  of  arms  was  to  open  before  me. 
This,  if  I  were  to  judge  from  all  I  saw, 
could  not  now  be  far  distant.  The  country 
for  miles  around  Paris  was  covered  with 
marching  men,  their  faces  all  turned  east- 
ward— orderlies,  booted  and  splashed,  troV 
ted  rapidly  from  street  to  street,  and  gene- 
ral officers,  with  their  aides-de-camp,  rode 
up  and  down  with  a  haste  that  boded  pre- 
paration. 

My  mind  was  too  full  of  its  own  absorb- 


ing interests  to  make  me  care  to  visit  tbe 
theater,  and  having  dined  in  a  cafe  on  the 
Boulevard,  1  turned  toward  the  general's 
quarters,  in  the  hope  of  finding  him  arrived. 
As  I  entered  the  Hue  de  Rohan,  I  was  sur- 
prised at  a  crowd  collected  about  the  door, 
watching  the  details  of  packing  a  traveling 
carriage  which  stood  before  it.  A  heavy 
fourgon,  loaded  with  military  chests  and 
boxes,  seemed  also  to  attract  their  atten- 
tion, and  call  forth  many  a  surmise  as  to 
its  destination. 

"Le  Petit  Caporal  has  something  in  his 
head,  depend  upon  it,"  said  a  thin,  dark- 
whiskered  fellow  with  a  wooden  leg,  whose 
air  and  gesture  bespoke  the  old  soldier ; 
"the  staff  never  move  off,  extra  post,  with- 
out a  good  reason  for  it." 

"It  is  the  English  are  about  to  catch  it 
this  time,"  said  a  miserable-looking,  decre- 
pit creature,  who  was  occupied  in  roasting 
chestnuts  over  an  open  stove.  "Hot,  all 
hot !  messieurs  et  mesdames  !  real  '  mar- 
rons  de  Nancy' — the  true  and  only  veri- 
table chestnuts  with  a  truffle  flavor.  Sa- 
cristi !  now  the  sea-wolves  will  meet  their 
match.  It  is  such  brave  fellows  as  you, 
monsieur  le  grenadier,  can  make  them 
tremble. " 

The  old  pensioner  smoothed  down  his 
moustache,  and  made  no  reply. 

"The  English,  indeed!"  said  a  fat, 
ruddy-faced  worrfan,  with  a  slight  line  of 
do,rk  beard  on  her  upper  lip  ;  "my  hus- 
band's a  pioneer  in  the  Twenty-second,  and 
says  they're  nothing  better  than  poltroons. 
How  we  made  them  run  at  Arcole  !  Wasn't 
it  Arcole  ?  "  said  she,  as  a  buzz  of  laughter 
ran  through  the  crowd. 

"  Tonnerre  de  guerre,'"  cried  the  little 
man,  "  if  I  was  at  them  ! "  A  loud  burst 
of  merriment  met  this  warlike  speech, 
while  the  maimed  soldier,  apparently 
pleased  with  the  creature's  courage,  smiled 
blandly  on  him  as  he  said,  "Let  me  have 
two  sous'  worth  of  your  chestnuts." 

Leaving  the  party  to  their  discussion,  I 
now  entered  the  house,  and  edging  my  way 
up-stairs,  between  trunks  and  packing' 
cases,  arrived  at  the  drawing-room?  The 
general  had  just  come  in  ;  he  had  been  the 
whole  morning  at  Court,  and  was  eating  a 
hurried  dinner  in  order  to  return  to  the 
Tuileries  for  the  evening  reception.  Al- 
though his  manner  toward  me  was  kind 
and  cordial  in  the  extreme,  I  thought  he 
looked  agitated  and  even  depressed,  and 
seemed  much  older  and  more  broken" than 
before. 

"  You  see,  Burke,  you'll  have  little  time 
to  enjoy  Paris  gayeties — we  leave  to-mor= 
row." 


408 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


"  Indeed,  sir  ! — so  soon  ?  " 

"Yes,  Lasalle  is  off  already;  Dorsenne 
starts  in  two  hours  ;  and  we  three  rendez- 
vous at  Coblentz.  I  wished  much  to  see 
you,"  continued  he,  after  a  minute's  pause  ; 
"but  I  could  not  get  away  from  Versailles 
even  for  a  day.  Tell  me,  have  you  got  a 
letter  I  wrote  to  you  when  at  Mayence  ?  1 
mean,  is  it  still  in  existence  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  I,  somewhat  astonished 
at,  the  question. 

"I  wrote  it  hurriedly,"  added  he,  with 
something  of  confusion  in  his  manner ; 
"do  let  me  see  it." 

I  unlocked  my  writing-desk  at  once,  and 
handed  him  his  own  letter.  He  opened  it 
hastily,  and  having  thrown  his  eyes  speed- 
ily across  it,  said,  and  in  a  voice  far  more 
at  ease  than  before, 

"  That  will  do.  I  feared  lest  perhaps — 
But  no  matter — this  is  better  than  I 
thought." 

With  this  he  gave  the  letter  back  into 
my  hands,  and  appeared  for  some  moments 
engaged  in  deep  thought ;  then,  with  a 
voice  and  manner  which  showed  a  different 
channel  was  given  to  his  thoughts,  he 
said : 

"  The  game  has  opened— the  Austrians 
have  invaded  Bavaria.  The  whole  dispo- 
sable force  of  France  is  on  the  march — a 
hurried  movement — but  so  it  is.  Napoleon 
always  strikes  like  his  tnvn  emblem,  the 
eagle. " 

"  True,  sir ;  but  even  that  serves  to 
heighten  the  chivalrous  feeling  of  the  sol- 
dier, when  the  word  springs  from  the  scab- 
bard at  the  call  of  honor,  and  is  not-  drawn 
slowly  forth  at  the  whispered  counsel  of 
some  wily  diplomate." 

He  smiled  half-mournfully  at  the  re- 
mark, or  at  my  impetuosity  in  making  it, 
as  he  said  : 

"  My  dear  boy,  never  flatter  yourself  that 
the  cause  of  any  war  can  enter  into  the  cal- 
culation of  the  soldier.  The  liberty  he 
lights  for  is  often  the  rankest  tyranny  ;  the 
patriotism  he  defends,  the  veriest  oppres- 
sion. Play  the  game  as  though  the  stake 
were  but  your  own  ambition,  if  you  would 
play  it  manfully.  As  for  me,  I  "buckle  on 
the  harness  for  the  last  time — come  what 
will  of  it.  The  Emperor  feels,  and  justly 
feels,  indignant  that  many  of  the  older  offi- 
cers have  declined  the  service  by  which 
alone  they  were  elevated  to  rank,  and 
wealth,  and  honor.  It  was  not  then  at  the 
moment  when  he  distinguished  me  by  an 
unsought  promotion,  still  more,  conferred 
a  personal  favor  on  me,  that  I  could  ask 
leave  to  retire  from  the  army." 

By  the  tone  in  which  he  "said  these  last 


few  words,  I  saw  that  the  general  was  now 
approaching  the  topic  I  felt  so  curious 
about,  and  did  not  venture  by  a  word  to 
interrupt  or  divert  his  thoughts  from  it. 
My  calculation  proved  correct  :  for,  after 
meditating  some  eight  or  ten  minutes,  he 
drew  his  chair  closer  to  mine,  and  in  a 
voice  of  ill-repressed  agitation,  spoke  thus: 

"You,  doubtless,  know  the  history  of 
our  great  revolution,  the  causes  that  led  to, 
the  consequences  that  immediately  sprang 
from  it — the  terrible  anarchy,  the  utter  con- 
fiscation of  wealth,  and,  worse  still,  the 
social  disorganization  that  invaded  every 
family,  however  humble,  or  however  ex- 
alted, setting  wives  against  their  husbands, 
children  against  their  parents,  and  making 
brothers  sworn  enemies  to  each  other.  It 
was  in  vain  for  any  man  once  engaged  in 
the  struggle,  to  draw  back  ;  the  least  hesi- 
tation to  perform  any  order  of  the  Conven- 
tion— the  delay  of  a  moment,  to  think — 
was  death  ;  some  one  was  ever  on  the  watch 
to  denounce  the  man  thus  deliberating,  and 
he  was  led  forth  to  the  guillotine  like  the 
blackest  criminal.  The  immediate  result 
of  all  this  was  a  distrust  that  pervaded  the 
entire  nation.  No  one  knew  who  to  speak 
to,  nor  dared  any  confide  in  him  who  once 
had  been  his  dearest  friend.  The  old  Roy- 
alists trembled  at  every  stir  ;  the  few  demon- 
strations they  forced  themselves  to  make 
of  concurrence  in  the  new  state  of  things, 
were  received  with  suspicion  and  jealousy. 
The  "Blues,'  for  so  the  revolutionary  par- 
ty was  called,  thirsted  for  their  blood  ;  the 
aristocracy  had  been,  as  they  deemed,  long 
their  oppressors  ;  and  where  vengeance 
ceased,  cupidity  began.  They  longed  to 
seize  upon  the  confiscated  estates,  and  revel 
as  masters  in  the  halls  where  so  oft  they 
had  waited  as  lackeys.  But  the  evil  end- 
ed not  here  :  wherever  private  hate  or 
secret  malice  lurked,  an  opportunity  for 
revenge  now  offered,  and  for  one  head  that 
fell  under  the  supposed  guilt  of  treason  to 
France,  a  hundred  dropped  beneath  the  axe 
from  causes  of  personal  animosity  and  long- 
nurtured  vengeance  ;  and  thus  many  an 
idle  word  uttered  in  haste  or  carelessness, 
some  passing  slight,  some  chance  neglect, 
met  now  its  retribution,  and  that  retribu- 
tion was  ever  death. 

"It  chanced  that  in  the  south,  in  one  of 
those  remote  districts  where  intelligence  is 
always  slow  in  arriving,  and  where  politi- 
cal movements  rarely  disturb  the  quiet  cur- 
rent of  daily  life,  there  lived  one  of  those 
old  seigneurs  who,  at  that  period,  were 
deemed  sovereign  princes  in  the  little 
locale  they  inhabited.  The  soil  hud  been 
their  own  for  centuries,  long  custom  had 


TO M  BURKE   OF  ''OURS. 


409 


made  them  respected  and  looked  up  to, 
while  the  acts  of  kindness  and  benevolence 
in  which,  from  father  to  son,  their  educa- 
tion consisted,  formed  even  a  stronger  tie 
to  the  affections  of  the  peasantry.  The 
Church,  too,  contributed  not  a  little  to  the 
maintenance  of  this  feudalism,  and  the 
"chateau  "  entered  into  the  subject  of  the 
village  prayers  as  naturally  as  though  a 
very  principle  of  their  faith.  There  was 
something  beautifully  touching  in  the  in- 
tercourse between  the  lord  of  the  soil  and 
its  tillers — in  the  kindly  interest  of  the  one, 
repaid  in  reverence  and  devotion  by  the 
others  ;  his  foresight  for  their  benefit,  their 
attachment  and  fidelity,  the  paternal  care, 
the  filial  love,  made  a  picture  of  rural  hap- 
piness snch  as  no  land  ever  equaled,  such 
as  perhaps  none  will  ever  see  again.  The 
seigneur  of  whom  I  speak  was  a  true  type 
of  this  class  ;  he  had  been,  in  his  boyhood, 
a  page  at  the  gorgeous  Court  of  Louis  XV., 
mixed  in  the  voluptuous  fascinations  of 
the  period,  but  early  disgusted  by  the  sen- 
suality of  the  day,  retired  to  his  distant 
chateau,  bringing  with  him  a  wife,  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  and  accomplished  per- 
sons of  the  Court,  but  one  who,  like  him- 
self, preferred  the  peace  and  tranquillity  of 
a  country  life  to  the  whirlwind  pleasures 
of  a  vicious  capital.  For  years  they  lived 
childless ;  but  at  last,  after  a  long  lapse  of 
time,  two  children  were  born  to  this  union, 
a  boy  and  girl,  both  lovely,  and  likely  in 
every  respect  to  bless  them  with  happiness. 
Shortly  after  the  birth  of  the  girl,  the 
mother  became  delicate,  and  after  some 
months  of  suffering,  died.  The  father, 
who  never  rallied  from  the  hour  of  her 
death,  and  took  little  interest  in  the  world, 
soon  followed  her,  and  the  children  were 
left  orphans  when  the  eldest  was  but  four 
years  of  age,  and  his  sister  but  three.  Be- 
fore the  count  died  he  sent  for  his  steward  ; 
— you  know  that  the  steward,  or  intendant, 
in  France,  was  formerly  the  person  of 
greatest  trust  in  any  family,  the  faithful 
adviser  in  times  of  difficulty,  the  deposito- 
ry of  secrets,  the  friend,  in  a  word,  who  in 
humble  guise  offered  his  counsel  in  every 
domestic  arrangement,  and  without  whom 
no  project  was  entertained  or  determined 
on  ;  and  usually  the  office  was  hereditary, 
descending  from  father  to  son  for  centuries. 
"In  this  family  such  was  the  case,  his 
father  and  grandfather  before  him  had 
filled  the  office,  and  Leon  Guichard  well 
knew  every  tradition  of  the  house,  and 
from  his  infancy  his  mind  had  been  stored 
with  tales  of  its  ancient  wealth  and  former 
greatness.  His  father  had  died  but  a  short 
time  previous,  and  when  the  Count's  last 


illness  seized  him,  Leon  v,  .-  only  in  the 
second  year  of  his  stewardship.  Brief  as 
the  period  was,  however,  it  had  sufficed  to 

give  abundant  proof  of  his  zeal  and  ability. 
New  sources  of  wealth  grew  up  under 
his  judicious  management — improvements 
were  everywhere  conspicuous  ;  and  while 
the  seigneur  himself  found  hi  income  in- 
creased by  nearly  one-halt',  the  tenants  had 
gained  in  equal  proportion  :  such  was  the 
result  of  his  activity  ami  intelligence. 
These  changes,  marvelous  as  they  may 
seem,  were  then  of  frequent  occurrence — 
the  lands  of  the  south  bad  been  tilled  for 
centuries  without  any  effort  at  improve- 
ment— sons  were  content  to  go  on  as  their 
fathers  had  done  before  them — increased 
civilization,  with  its  new  train  of  wants 
and  luxuries,  never  invaded  this  remote, 
untraveled  district,  and  primitive  tastes 
and  simple  habits  succeeded  each  other 
generation  after  generation  unaltered  and 
unchanged.  Suddenly,  however,  a  new 
light  broke  on  the  world,  which  penetrated 
even  the  darkness  of  the  far-off  valleys  of 
La  Provence.  Intelligence  began  to  be  more 
widely  diffused — men  read  and  reflected — 
the  rudiments  of  every  art  and  every  sci- 
ence were  put  within  the  reach  of  humble 
comprehensions  ;  and  they  who  before  were 
limited  to  memory  or  hearsay  for  such 
knowledge  as  they  possessed,  could  now 
apply  at  the  fountain  for  themselves.  Leon 
Guichard  was  not  slow  in  cultivating  these 
new  resources,  and  applying  them  to  the 
circumstances  about  him  ;  and  although 
many  an  obstacle  arose,  dictated  by  stupid 
adherence  to  old  customs,  or  fast-rooted 
prejudice  against  new-fashioned  methods, 
by  perseverance  he  overcame  them  all,  and 
actually  enriched  the  people  in  spite  of 
themselves. 

"The  seigneur,  himself  a  man  of  no 
mean  intellect,  saw  much  of  this  with  sor- 
row— he  felt  that  a  mighty  change  was  ac- 
complishing, and  that  as  one  by  one  the 
ancient  landmarks  by  which  men  had  been 
guided  for  ages  were  removed,  none  could 
foresee  what  results  might  follow,  nor 
where  the  passion  for  alteration  might 
cease.  The  superstitions  of  the  Church, 
harmless  in  themselves,  were  now  openly 
attacked  ;  its  observances,  before  so  deeply 
venerated,  were  even  assailed  as  idle  cere- 
monies, and  it  seemed  as  if  the  strong  cable 
that  bound  men  to  faith  and  loyalty  had 
parted,  and  that  their  minds  were  drifting 
over  a  broad  and  pathless  sea.  Such  was 
the  ominous  opening  of  the  revolution, 
such  the  terrible  ground-swell  before. the 
storm. 

"  On  his  death-bed,  then,  he  entreated 


410 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WO  RES. 


Leon  to  be  aware  that  evil  days  were  ap- 
proaching— that  the  time  was  not  distant 
when  men  should  rely  upon  the  affection 
and  love  of  those  around  them,  on  the  ties 
that  attached  to  each  other  for  years  Long, 
on  the  mutual  interest  that  had  grown  up 
from  their  cradles— he  besought  him  to 
turn  the  people's  minds,  as  far  as  might 
be,  from  the  specious  theories  that  were 
afloat,  and  fix  them  on  their  once  loved 
traditions — and,  above  all,  he  charged  him, 
as  the  guardian  of  his  orphan  children,  to 
keep  them  aloof  from  the  contamination 
of  dangerous  doctrines,  and  to  train  them 
up  in  the  ancient  virtues  of  their  house,  in 
charity  and  benevolence. 

"  Scarce  had  the  old  count's  grave  closed 
over  him,  when  men  began  to  perceive  a 
marked  change  in  Leon  Guichard  ;  no 
longer  humble,  even  to  subserviency,  as  be- 
fore, he  now  assumed  an  air  of  pride  and 
haughtiness  that  soon  estranged  his  com- 
panions from  him.  As  guardian  to  the 
orphan  children,  he  resided  in  the  chateau, 
and  took  on  him  the  pretensions  of  the 
master.  Its  stately  equipage,  with  great 
emblazoned  panels,  the  village  wonder  at 
every  fete-day,  was  now  replaced  by  a  more 
modern  vehicle,  newly  arrived  from  Paris, 
in  which  Monsieur  Guichard  daily  took  his 
airings.  The  old  servants,  many  of  them 
born  in  the  chateau,  were  sent  adrift,  and 
a  new  and  very  different  class  succeeded 
them ;  all  was  changed  ;  even  the  little 
path  that  led  up  from  the  presbytere  to  the 
chateau,  and  along  which  the  old  cure  was 
seen  wending  his  way  on  each  Sunday  to 
his  dinner  with  the  seigneur,  was  now  closed 
— the  gate  walled  up — while  the  Sabbath 
itself  was  only  dedicated  to  greater  festivi- 
ties and  excess,  to  the  scandal  of  the  vil- 
lagers. 

"  Meanwhile,  the  children  grew  up  in 
strength  and  beauty ;  like  wild  flowers, 
they  had  no  nurture,  but  they  flourished  in 
all  this  neglect,  ignorant  and  unconscious 
of  the  scenes  around  them.  They  roved 
about  the  livelong  day  through  the  mead- 
ows, or  that  wilderness  of  a  garden,  on 
which  no  longer  any  care  was  bestowed, 
and  where  rank  luxuriance  gave  a  beauty 
of  its  own  to  the  rich  vegetation.  With 
the  unsuspecting  freshness  of  their  youth, 
they  enjoyed  the  present  without  a  thought 
of  the  future — they  loved  each  other,  and 
were  happy.  To  them  the  vague  reports 
and  swelling  waves  of  the  revolution,  which 
each  day  gained  ground,  brought  neither 
fear  nor  apprehension  ;  they  little  dreamed 
that  the  violence  of  political  strife  could 
ever  reach  their  quiet  valleys  :  nor  did  they 
think  the  hour  was  near  when  the  tramp  of 


soldiery,  and  the  ruffianly  shout  of  preda- 
tory war,  were  to  replace  the  song  of  the 
vigneron  and  the  dance  of  the  villager. 
The  revolution  eame  at  last,  sweeping  like 
a  torrent  over  the  land  ;  it  blasted  as  it 
went — beneath  its  baneful  breath  every- 
thing withered  and  wasted — loyalty,  reli- 
gion, affection,  and  brotherly  love,  all  died 
out  in  the  devoted  country — anarchy  and 
bloodshed  were  masters  of  the  scene.  The 
first  dreadful  act  of  this  fearful  drama 
passed  like  a  dream  to  those  who,  at  a  dis- 
tance from  Paris,  only  read  of  the  atroci- 
ties of  that  wretched  capital  ;  but  when 
the  wave  rolled  nearer,  when  crowds  of 
armed  men,  wild  and  savage  in  look,  with 
ragged  uniforms  and  blood-stained  hands, 
prowled  about  the  villages,  where  in  hap- 
pier times  a  soldier  had  never  been  seen — 
when  the  mob  around  the  guillotine  sup- 
plied the  place  of  the  gathering  at  the 
market — when  the  pavement  was  wet  and 
slippery  with  human  blood,  men's  natures 
suddenly  became  changed,  as  though  some 
terrible  curse  from  on  high  had  fallen  on 
them  ;  their  minds  caught  up  the  fearful 
contagion  of  revolt,  and  a  mad  impulse  to 
deny  all  they  had  once  held  sacred  and 
venerable  seized  on  all.  Their  blasphemies 
against  religion  went  hand  in  hand  with 
their  desecration  of  everything  holy  in 
social  life,  and  a  pre-eminence  in  guilt 
became  the  highest  object  of  ambition. 
Sated  with  slaughter,  bloated  with  crime, 
the  nation  reeled  like  a  drunken  savage 
over  the  ruin  it  created,  and  with  the 
insane  lust  of  blood  poured  forth  its  armed 
thousands  throughout  the  whole  of  Eu- 
rope. Then  began  the  much-boasted  tri- 
umphs of  the  revolutionary  armies — the 
lauded  victories  of  those  great  asserters  of 
liberty — say,  rather,  the  carnage  of  fam- 
ished wolves,  the  devastating  rage  of  blood- 
thirsty maniacs.  The  conscription  seized 
on  the  whole  youth  of  France,  as  if  fearful 
that,  in  the  untarnished  minds  of  the 
young,  the  seeds  of  better  things  might 
bear  "fruit  in  season.  They  carried  them 
away  to  scenes  of  violence  and  rapine, 
where,  amid  the  shouts  of  battle  and  the 
cries  of  the  dying,  no  voice  of  human  sym- 
pathy might  touch  their  hearts,  no  trem- 
bling of  remorse  should  stir  within  them. 

"  'You  are  named  in  the  conscription, 
Monsieur,'  said  Leon,  in  a  short,  abrupt 
tone,  as  one  morning  he  entered  the  dress- 
ing-room of  his  young  master. 

"'I!  I  named  in  the  conscription!' 
replied  the  other,  with  a  look  of  incredulity 
and  anger.  'This  is  but  a  sorry  jest, 
Master  Leon,  and  not  in  too  good  taste, 
either.' 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


411 


"  '  Good  or  bad,'  answered  the  steward, 
'  the  fact  is  as  I  say ;  here  is  the  order  from 
the  municipalitc.  You  were  fifteen  yes- 
terday, you  know.' 

"  True  ;  and  what  then  ?  Am  I  not 
Marquis  de  Neufchatel,  Count  de  Roche- 
fort,  in  right  of  my  mother  ?  ' 

" '  There  are  no  more  marquises,  no 
more  counts,'  said  the  other,  roughly ; 
'  France  has  had  enough  of  such  cattle  ; 
the  less  you  allude  to  them  the  safer  for 
your  head.' 

"  He  spoke  truly,  the  reign  of  the  aris- 
tocracy was  ended  ;  and  while  they  were 
yet  speaking,  an  emissary  of  the  Conven- 
tion, accompanied  by  a  party  of  troops, 
arrived  at  the  chateau  to  fetch  away  the 
newly-drawn  conscript. 

"  I  must  not  dwell  on  the  scene  which  fol- 
lowed— the  heartrending  sorrow  of  those 
who  had  lived  but  for  each  other,  now  torn 
asunder  for  the  first  time,  not  knowing 
when,  if  ever,  they  were  to  meet  again. 
His  sister  wished  to  follow  him,  but  even 
had  he  permitted  it,  such  would  have  been 
impossible.  The  dreadful  career  of  a  re- 
volutionary soldier  was  an  obstacle  insur- 
mountable. The  same  evening  the  batta- 
lion of  infantry  to  which  he  was  attached 
began  their  march  toward  Savoy,  and  the 
lovely  orphan  of  the  chateau  fell  danger- 
ously ill. 

"Youth,  however,  triumphed  over  her 
malady,  which,  indeed,  was  brought  on  by 
grief ;  and  after  some  weeks  she  was 
restored  to  health.  During  the  interval, 
nothing  could  be  more  kind  and  attentive 
than  Leon  Guichard  ;  his  manner,  of  late 
years,  rough  and  uncivil,  became  softened 
and  tender  ;  the  hundred  little  attentions 
which  illness  seeks  for,  he  paid  with  zeal 
and  watchfulness  ;  everything  which  could 
alleviate  her  sorrow  or  calm  her  afflicted 
mind,  was  resorted  to  with  a  kind  of 
instinctive  delicacy,  and  she  began  to  feel 
that  in  her  long-cherished  dislike  of  the 
intendant  she  had  done  him  grievous 
wrong. 

"  This  change  of  manner  attracted  the 
attention  of  many  besides  the  inhabitants 
of  the  chateau.  They  remarked  his  altered 
looks  and  bearing,  the  more  studietl  atten- 
tion to  his  dress  and  appearance,  and  the 
singular  difference  in  all  his  habits  of  life; 
no  longer  did  he  pass  his  time  in  the  wild 
orgies  of  debauchery  and  excess,  but  in 
careful  management  of  the  estate,  and 
rarely  or  never  left  the  chateau  after  night- 
fall.  J 

"A  hundred  different  interpretations 
were  given  to  this  line  of  acting  :  some 
said   that   the    more   settled  condition   of 


political  affairs  had  made  him  cautious  and 
careful,  for  it  was  now  the  reign  of  the 
Directory,  and  the  old  excesses  of  '92  were 
no  longer  endured  ;  others,  that  he  was 
naturally  of  a  kind  and  benevolent  nature, 
and  that  his  savage  manner  and  reckless 
conduct  were  assumed  merely  in  compli- 
ance with  the  horrible  features  of  the  time. 
None,  however,  suspected  the  real  cause. 
Leon  Guichard  was  in  love  !  Yes,  the 
humble  steward,  the  coarse  follower  of  the 
vices  of  that  detestable  period,  was  capti- 
vated by  the  beauty  of  the  young  girl, 
now  springing  into  womanhood.  The 
freshness  of  her  artless  nature,  her  guile- 
less innocence,  her  soft  voice,  her  character 
so  balanced  between  gayety  and  thought- 
fulness,  her  loveliness,  so  unlike  all  he  had 
ever  seen  before,  had  seized  upon  his  whole 
heart ;  and,  as  the  sun  darting  from  behind 
the  blackest  clouds  will  light  up  the  surface 
of  a  bleak  landscape,  touching  every  barren 
rock  and  tipping  every  bell  of  purple  heath 
with  color  and  richness,  so  over  his  rugged 
nature  the  beauty  of  this  fair  girl  shed  a 
very  halo  of  light,  and  a  spirit  awoke 
within  him  to  seek  for  better  things,  to 
endeavor  better  things,  to  fly  the  coarse, 
depraved  habits  of  his  former  self,  to  con- 
form to  the  tastes  of  her  he  worshiped. 
Day  by  day  his  stern  nature  became  more 
softened.  No  longer  those  terrible  bursts 
of  passion,  to  which  he  once  gave  way, 
escaped  him  ;  his  voice,  his  very  look,  too, 
were  changed  in  their  expression,  and  a 
gentleness  of  manner  almost  amounting  to 
timidity  now  characterized  him  who  had 
once  been  the  type  of  the  most  savage  Ja- 
cobin. 

"  She  to  whom  this  wondrous  change 
was  owing  knew  nothing  of  the  miracle  she 
had  worked  ;  she  would  not,  indeed,  have 
believed,  had  one  told  her.  She  scarcely 
remarked  him  when  they  met,  and  did  not, 
perceive  that  he  was  no  longer  like  his 
former  self  ;  her  whole  soul  wrapped  up  in 
her  dear  brother's  fate,  she  lived  from  week 
to  week  in  the  thought  of  his  letters  home. 
It  is  true  her  life  had  many  enjoyments 
which  owed  their  source  to  the  intendant'? 
care  ;  but  she  knew  not  of  this,  and  felt 
more  grateful  to  him  when  he  came  letter 
in  hand  from  the  little  post  of  the  village, 
than  when  the  fair  moss-roses  of  spring 
filled  the  vases  of  the  salon,  or  the  earliest 
fruits  of  summer  decked  her  table.  At 
times,  something  in  his  demeanor  would 
strike  her — a  tinge  of  sorrow  it  seemed 
rather  than  aught  else  ;  but  as  she  attri- 
buted this,  as  every  other  grief,  to  her 
brother's  absence,  she  paid  no  further  at- 
tention to  it,  and  merely  thought  good  Leon 


41 2 


CHARLES  LEVERS    WORKS. 


nad  more  feeling  than  they  used  to  give 
him  credit  for. 

"At  last,  the  campaign  of  Arcole  over, 
the  young  soldier  obtained  a  short  leave  to 
see  his  sister.  How  altered  were  they  both : 
she,  from  the  child,  had  become  the  beau- 
tiful girl  ;  her  eyes  Hashing  with  the  bril- 
liant sparkle  of  youth,  her  step  elastic,  her 
color  changing  with  every  passing  expres- 
sion. He  was  already  a  man,  bronzed  and 
sunburnt ;  his  dark  eyes  darker,  and  his 
voice  deeper,  but  still  his  former  self  in  all 
the  warmth  of  his  affection  to  his  sister. 

"  The  lieutenant,  for  so  was  he  always 
called  by  the  old  soldier  who  accompanied 
him  as  his  servant,  and  oftentimes  by  the 
rest  of  his  household,  had  seen  much  of  the 
world  in  the  few  years  of  his  absence. 

"  The  chances  and  changes  of  a  camp  had 
taught  him  many  things  which  lie  far  be- 
yond its  own  limits,  and  he  had  learned  to 
scan  men's  minds  and  motives,  with  a  quick 
eye  and  ready  wit.  He  was  not  long,  there- 
fore, in  observing  the  alteration  in  Leon 
Guichard's  manner,  nor  was  he  slow  in 
tracing  it  to  its  real  cause.  At  first,  the 
sudden  impulse  of  his  passion  would  have 
driven  him  to  any  length  ;  the  presumption 
of  such  a  thought  was  too  great  to  endure 
— but  then  the  times  he  lived  in  taught 
him  some  strong  lessons ;  he  remembered 
the  scenes  of  social  disorder  and  anarchy  of 
his  childhood  ;  how  every  rank  became 
subverted,  and  how  men's  minds  were  left 
to  their  own  unbridled  influences  to  choose 
their  own  position,  and  he  bethought  him, 
that  in  such  trials  as  these,  Leon  had  con- 
ducted himself  with  moderation  ;  that  to 
his  skillful  management  it  was  owing,  if 
the  property  had  not  suffered  confiscation 
like  so  many  others,  and  that  it  was,  per- 
haps, hard  to  condemn  a  man  for  being 
struck  by  charms  which,  however  above 
him  in  the  scale  of  rank,  were  still  continu- 
ally before  his  eyes.  Reasoning  thus,  he 
determined,  as  the  wisest  course,  to  remove 
his  sister  to  the  house  of  a  relative,  where 
she  could  remain  during  his  absence.  This 
would  at  once  put  a  stop  to  the  steward's 
folly — for  so  he  could  not  help  deeming  it 
— and,  what  was  of  equal  consequence  in 
the  young  soldier's  eyes,  prevent  his  sister 
being  offended  by  ever  suspecting  the  exis- 
tence of  such  a  feeling  toward  her.  The 
plan,  once  resolved  on,  met  no  difficulty 
from  his  sister  ;  his  promise  to  return  soon 
to  see  her  was  enough  to  compensate  for 
any  arrangement,  and  it  was  determined 
that  they  should  set  out  toward  the  south 
by  the  first  week  in  September. 

"  When   the   intimation  of  this  change 
first  reached  Leon,  which  it  did  from  the 


other  servant,-',  he  could  not  belie\e  it,  and 
resolved  to  hasten  to  the  lieutenant  himself, 
and  ask  if  it  were  true.  On  that  day,  how- 
ever, the  young  soldier  was  absent  shoot- 
ing, and  was  not  to  return  before  night. 
Tortured  with  doubt  and  fear,  trembling 
at  the  very  thought  of  her  departure — 
whose  presence  had  been  the  loadstar  of  his 
life — he  rushed  from  the  house  and  hur- 
ried into  the  wood.  Every  spot  reminded 
him  of  her,  and  he  shuddered  to  think  that 
in  a  few  hours  his  existence  would  have 
lost  its  spring — that  ere  the  week  was  past 
he  would  be  alone  without  the  sight  of  her, 
whom,  even  to  have  seen,  constituted  the 
happiness  of  the  whole  day.  Revolving 
such  sad  thoughts,  he  strolled  on,  not 
knowing  whither,  and,  at  last,  on  turning 
the  angle  of  a  path,  found  himself  before 
the  object  of  his  musings  ;  she  was  return- 
ing from  a  farewell  visit  to  one  of  the  cot- 
tagers, and  was  hastening  to  the  chateau 
to  dress  for  dinner. 

"  '  Ah  !  Monsieur  Leon,'  said  she,  sud- 
denly, 'I  am  glad  to  meet  you  here — these 
poor  people  at  the  wooden  bridge  will  miss 
me,  I  fear  ;  you  must  look  to  them  in  my 
absence.  And  there  is  old  Jeannette — she 
fancies  she  can  spin  still— I  pray  you  let 
her  have  her  little  pension  regularly*  The 
children  at  Calotte,  too — they  are  too  far 
from  the  school — mind  that  they  have  their 
books.' 

"  '  And  are  you  indeed  going  from  hence, 
mademoiselle  ?'  said  he,  in  a  tone  and  ac- 
cent so  unlike  his  ordinary  one,  as  to  make 
her  start  with  surprise. 

"  '  Yes,  to  be  sure.  We  leave  the  day 
after  to-morrow.' 

"'And  have  you  no  regret,  mademoi- 
selle, to  leave  the  home  of  your  childhood 
and  those  you  have — known  there  ?' 

"  '  Sir  ! '  replied  she,  haughtily,  as  the 
tone  of  his  voice  assumed  a  meaning  which 
could  not  be  mistaken  ;  'you  seem  to  have 
forgotten  yourself  somewhat,  or  you  had  not 
dared-' 

"  'Dared  !'  interrupted  he  in  a  louder 
key — 'dared!  I  have  dared  more  than 
that  !  Yes,'  cried  he,  in  a  voice  where  pas- 
sion could  be  no  longer  held  under,  '  Leon 
Guichard,  the  steward,  has  dared  to  love 
his  master's  daughter  !  Start  not  so  proudly 
back,  madame  !  Time  was  when  such  an 
avowal  had  been  a  presumption  death  could 
not  repay  ;  but  these  days  are  past.  The 
haughty  have  been  well  humbled  ;  they 
who  deemed  their  blood  a  stream  too  pure 
to  mingle  with  the  current  in  plebeian  veins, 
have  poured  it  lavishly  beneath  the  guil- 
lotine. Leon  Guichard  has  no  master 
now  ! ' 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS/' 


413 


"  The  fire  flashed  from  his  eyes  as  he 
spoke,  and  his  color,  pale  at  first,  grew 
darker  and  darker,  till  his  face  became 
almost  purple,  while  his  nostrils,  swelled  to 
twice  their  natural  size,  dilated  and  con- 
tracted like  those  of  a  fiery  charger.  Ter- 
rified at  the  frightful  paroxysm  of  passion 
before  her,  the  timid  girl  endeavored  to 
allay  his  anger,  and  replied, 

"  '  You  know  well,  Leon,  that  my  brother 
has  ever  treated  you  as  a  friend — ' 

(<<Hea  friend  ! '  cried  he,  stamping  on 
the  ground,  while  a  look  of  demoniac  malice 
lit  up  his  features.  'He,  who  talks  to  me 
as  though  I  were  a  vassal — a  slave  ;  he,  who 
deems  his  merest  word  of  approval  a  recom- 
pense for  all  my  labor — all  my  toil  ;  he, 
whose  very  glance  shoots  into  my  heart  like 
a  dagger.  Think  you  I  forgive  him  the 
contemptuous  treatment  of  nineteen  years, 
or  that  I  can  pardon  insults  because  they 
have  grown  into  habits  ?  Hear  me  ! ' — he 
grasped  her  wrist  rigidly  as  he  spoke,  and 
continued — 'I  have  sworn  an  oath  to  be  re- 
venged on  him  from  the  hour  when,  a  boy, 
scarce  eight  years  old,  he  struck  me  in  the 
face  and  called  me  canaille.  I  vowed  his 
ruin.  I  toiled  for  it,  I  strove  for  it,  and  I 
succeeded — ay,  succeeded.  I  obtained  from 
the  Convention  the  confiscation  of  your 
lands — all — everything  you  possessed.  I 
held  the  titles  in  my  possession,  for  I  was 
the  owner  of  this  broad  chateau — ay — Leon 
Guichard — even  so.  You  were  but  my 
guest  here.  I  kept  it  by  me  many  a  day, 
and  when  your  brother  was  drawn  in  the 
conscription,  I  resolved  to  assert  my  right 
before  the  world.'  He  paused  for  a  moment, 
while  a  tremendous  convulsion  shook  his 
frame,  and  made  him  tremble  like  one  in 
an  ague;  then,  suddenly  rallying,  he  passed 
his  hand  across  his  brow,  and,  in  a  lower 
voice,  resumed,  'I  would  have  done  so,  but 
for  you.' 

"  '  For  me  !  What  mean  you  ? '  said  she, 
almost  sinking  with  terror. 

"  *  I  loved  you — loved  you  as  only  he  can 
love  who  can  surrender  all  his  cherished 
hopes — his  dream  of  ambition — his  ven- 
geance even,  to  his  love.  I  thought,  too, 
that  you  were  not  cold  to  my  advances ; 
and  fearing  lest  any  hazard  should  apprise 
you  of  my  success,  and  thus  run  counter  to 
my  wishes,  I  lived  on  here  as  your  servant, 
still  hoping  for  the  hour  when  I  might  call 
you  mine,  and  avow  myself  the  lord  of  this 
chateau.  How  long  I  might  have  con- 
tinued thus  I  know  not.  To  see  you,  to 
look  on  you,  to  live  beneath  the  same  roof 
with  you,  seemed  happiness  enough,  but 
when  I  heard  that  you  were  to  leave  this, 
to  go  away,  never  to  return,  perhaps,  or  if 


so,  not  as  her  1  loved  and  worshiped,  then 
— Bui  why  look  you  thus?  Is  it  because 
you  doubt  these  things?  Look  here, 
this.  Is  that  inform?  Axe  these  signa- 
tures authentic?  Is  this  tl  I  of  tie- 
National  Convention  ?  Whal  -'.t\  younow? 
It  is  not  the  steward  Leon  thai  sues,  bui 
the  Citizen  Guichard,  proprietaire  de 
Rochefort.  Now,  methinks,  that  makes 
some  difference  in  the  proposition.' 

"'None,  sir/ replied  she,  with  a  voice 
whose  steady  utterance  made  each  word 
sink  into  his  heart  ;  'save  thai  it  adds  to 
my  contempt  for  him  who  has  dared  to 
seek  my  affection  in  the  ruin  of  my  family. 
I  did  but  despise  you  before — ' 

"  '  Beware,'  said  he,  in  a  voice  of  menace, 
but  in  which  no  violence  of  passion  entered, 
'ycu  are  in  my  power.  I  ask  you  again, 
will  you  consent  to  be  my  wife  ?  Will  you 
save  your  brother  from  the  scaffold,  and 
yourself  from  beggary  and  ruin  ? — I  can 
accomplish  both.' 

A  look  of  ineffable  scorn  was  all  her 
reply  ;  when  he  sprang  forward  and  threw 
his  arm  round  her  waist. 

"  '  Or  would  you  drive  me  to  the  worst — ' 

"A  terrific  shriek  broke  from  her  as  she 
felt  his  hand  around  her,  when  the  brush- 
wood crashed  behind  her,  and  her  brother's 
dogs  sprang  from  the  thicket.  With  aloud 
cry  she  called  upon  his  name  ;  he  answered 
from  the  wood,  and  dashed  toward  her  just 
as  she  sank  fainting  to  the  ground.  Leon 
was  gone. 

"As  soon  as  returning  strength  per- 
mitted, she  told  her  brother  the  fe&rful 
story  of  the  steward  ;  but  bound  him  by 
every  entreaty  not  to  bring  himself  in  con- 
tact with  a  monster  so  depraved.  When 
they  reached  the  chateau,  they  learned  that 
Guichard  had  been  there  and  left  it  again  : 
and  from  that  hour  they  saw  him  no  more. 

"I  must  now  conclude  in  a  few  words, 
and  to  do  so,  may  mention,  that  in  the  year 
'99  I  became  the  purchaser  of  Haut  Roche- 
fort,  at'a  sale  of  forfeited  estates,  it  having 
been  bought  by  government  on  some  pre- 
vious occasion,  but  from  whom  and  how,  I 
never  heard.  The  story  i  have  told  I  learned 
from  the  notaire  of  Hubane,  the  village  in 
the  neighborhood,  who  was  conversant  with 
all  its  details,  and  knew  well  the  several 
actors  in  it,  as  well  as  their  future  fortunes. 

"The  brother  became  a  distinguished 
officer,  and  rose  to  some  rank  in  the  service, 
but  embarking  in  the  expedition  to  Ireland, 
was  reported  to  Bonaparte  as  having  be- 
trayed the  French  cause.  The  result  was, 
he  was  struck  off  the  list  of  the  army,  and 
pronounced  degraded  ;  he  died  in  some 
unknown  place. 


414 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


"The  sister  became  attached  to  her 
cousin,  but  the  brother  opposing  the  union, 
she  was  taken  away  to  Paris ;  the  lover  re- 
turned to  Bretagne,  where,  having  heard  a 
false  report  of  her  marriage  at  Court,  he 
assumed  holy  orders,  and  being  subsequent- 
ly charged,  but  it  is  now  believed  falsely, 
of  corresponding  with  the  Bourbons,  was 
shot  in  his  own  garden  by  a  platoon 'of  in- 
fantry. But  how  is  this  ?  are  you  ill  ?  has 
my  story  so  affected  you  ?  " 

"That  brother  was  my  friend — my 
dearest,  my  only  friend,  Charles  de  Meu- 
don." 

"What!  and  did  you  know  poor 
Charles  ?  " 

But  I  could  not  speak  ;  the  tears  ran  fast 
down  my  cheeks  as  I  thought  of  all  his 
sorrows — sorrows  far  greater  than  ever  he 
had  told  me. 

"Poor  Marie,"  said  the  General,  as  he 
wiped  a  tear  from  his  eye  ;  "  few  have  met 
such  an  enemy  as  she  did ;  every  mis- 
fortune of  her  life  has  sprung  from  one 
hand  ;  her  brother's,  her  lover's  death, 
were  both  his  acts." 

"Leon  Guichard  !  And  who  is  he  ?  or 
how  could  he  have  done  these  things  ?  " 

"Methinks  you  might  yourself  reply  to 
your  own  question." 

"I  !  how  could  that  be  ?  I  know  him 
not." 

"  Yes,  but  you  do  :  Leon  Guichard  is 
Mehee  de  la  Touchc  !  " 

Had  a  thunderbolt  fallen  between  us  I 
could  not  have  felt  more  terror.  That 
name  spoken  but  twice  or  thrice  in  my 
hearing,  had  each  time  brought  its  omen 
of  evil.  It  was  the  same  with  whose  ac- 
quaintance Marie  de  Meudon  charged  me 
in  the  garden  at  Versailles,  the  same  who 
brought  the  Chouans  to  the  guillotine,  and 
had  so  nearly  involved  myself  in  their  ruin  ; 
and  now  I  heard  of  him  as  one  whose  dread- 
ful life  had  been  a  course  of  perfidy  and 
crime,  one  who  blasted  all  around  him,  and 
scattered  ruin  as  he  went. 

"I  have  little  more  to  add,"  resumed 
the  General,  after  a  long  pause,  and  in  a 
voice  whose  weakened  accents  evinced  how 
fearfully  the  remembrance  he  called  up  af- 
fected him.  "  What  remains,  too,  more 
immediately  concerns  myself  than  others. 
I  am  the  last  of  my  house ;  an  ancient 
family,  and  one  not  undistinguished  in  the 
annals  of  France,  hangs  but  on  the  feeble 
thread  of  a  withered  and  broken  old  man's 
life,  with  whom  it  dies  ;  my  only  brother 
fell  m  the  Austrian  campaign.  I  never 
had  a  sister ;  uncles  and  cousins  I  have 
had  in  numbers,  but  death  and  exile  have 
been  rife  these  last  twenty  years,  and,  save 


myself,  none  bears  the  name  of  D'Au- 
vergne.  Yet  once  I  nourished  the  hope  of 
a  family — of  a  race  who  should  hand  down 
the  ancient  virtues  of  our  house  to  after 
years.  I  thought  of  those  gallant  ancestors 
whose  portraits  graced  the  walls  of  the  old 
chateau  I  was  born  in,  and  fancied  myself 
leading  my  infant  boy  from  picture  to 
picture,  as  I  pointed  out  the  brave  and  the 
good,  who  had  been  his  forefathers.  But 
this  is  a  dream  long  since  dispelled.  I  was 
then  a  youth,  scarce  older  than  yourself, 
rich,  and  with  every  prospect  of  happiness 
before  me  ;  1  fell  in  love,  and  the  object  of 
my  passion  seemed  one  created  to  have 
made  the  very  paradise  I  sought  for.  She 
was  beautiful,  beyond  even  the  loveliest  of 
a  handsome  Court  ;  highborn  and  gifted  ; 
but  her  heart  was  bestowed  on  another — 
one  who,  unlike  myself,  encouraged  no 
daring  thoughts,  no  ambitious  longings, 
but  who,  wholly  devoted  to  her  he  loved, 
sought  in  tranquil  quiet  the  happiness  such 
spirits  can  give  each  other.  She  told  me 
herself,  frankly  as  I  speak  now  to  you,  that 
she  could  not  be  mine,  and  then  placed  my 
hand  in  her  husband's.  This  was  Marie 
de  Rochefort,  the  mother  of  Mademoiselle 
de  Meudon. 

"  The  world's  changes  seem  ever  to  bring 
about  these  strange  vicissitudes  by  which 
our  early  deeds  of  good  and  evil  are  brought 
more  forcibly  to  our  memories,  and  we  are 
made  to  think  over  the  past  by  some  ac- 
cident of  the  present.  After  twenty  years 
I  came  to  live  in  that  chateau  where  she 
Avhom  I  once  loved  had  lived  and  died.  I 
became  the  ^rd  of  that  estate  which  her 
husband  once  possessed,  and  where  in  hap- 
piness they  had  dwelt  together.  I  will  not 
dwell  upon  the  thoughts  such  associations 
ever  give  rise  to  ;  I  dare  not,  old  as  I  am, 
evoke  them."  He  paused  for  some  minutes, 
and  then  went  on:  "Two  years  ago  I 
learned  that  Mademoiselle  de  Meudon  was 
the  daughter  of  my  once  loved  Marie. 
From  that  hour  I  felt  no  longer  childless  ; 
I  watched  over  her,  without,  however,  at- 
tracting notice  on  her  part,  and  followed 
her  everywhere ;  the  very  day  I  saw  you 
first  at  the  Polytechnique,  I  was  beside  her. 
From  all  I  could  learn  and  hear,  her  life 
had  been  one  of  devoted  attachment  to  her 
brother,  and  then  to  Madame  Bonaparte; 
her  heart,  it  was  said,  was  buried  with  him 
she  once  loved  ;  at  least  none  since  had 
ever  won  even  the  slightest  acknowledg- 
ment from  her  bordering  on  encourage- 
ment. 

"Satisfied  that  she  was  everything  I 
could  have  Avished  my  own  daughter,  and 
feeling  that  with  youth  the  springs  of  af- 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


415 


faction  rarely  dry  up,  I  conceived  the  idea 
of  settling  all  my  property  on  her,  and  en- 
treating the  Emperor  to  make  me  her 
guardian,  with  her  own  consent  of  course. 
He  agreed  ;  he  went  further  ;  he  repealed, 
so  far  as  it  concerned  her,  the  law  by  which 
the  daughters  of  royalists  cannot  inherit, 
and  made  her  eligible  to  succeed  to  property, 
and  placed  her  hand  at  my  disposal. 

"Such  was  the  state  of  matters  when  1 
wrote  to  you  ;  since  that  I  have  seen  her, 
and  spoken  to  her  in  confidence  ;  she  has 
consented  to  every  portion  of  the  arrange- 
ment, save  that  which  involves  her  marry- 
ing ;  but  some  strange  superstition  being 
over  her  mind  that  her  fate  is  to  ruin  all 
with  whom  it  is  linked,  that  her  name 
carries  an  evil  destiny  with  it,  she  refuses 
every  offer  of  marriage,  and  will  not  yield 
to  my  solicitation. 

"I  thought,"  said  the  General,  as  he 
leaned  on  his  hand,  and  muttered  half 
aloud,  "  that  I  had  conceived  a  plan  which 
must  bring  happiness  with  it ;  but,  how- 
ever, one  part  of  my  design  is  accomplished 
— she  is  my  heir,  the  daughter  of  my  own 
loved  Marie  is  the  child  of  my  adoption, 
and  for  this  I  have  reason  to  feel  grateful. 
The  cheerless  feeling  of  a  death-bed,  where 
not  one  mourns  for  the  dying,  haunts  me 
no  longer,  and  I  feel  not  as  one  deserted 
and  alone.  To-morrow  I  go  to  wish  her 
adieu  ;  and  we  are  to  be  at  the  Tuileries  by 
noon.  The  Emperor  holds  a  levee,  and 
our  final  orders  will  then  be  given." 

The  old  general  rallied  at  the  last  few 
words  he  spoke,  and  pressing  my  hand 
affectionately,  wished  me  good-night,  and 
withdrew  ;  while  I,  with  a  mind  confused 
and  stunned,  sat  thinking  over  the  melan- 
choly story  he  had  related,  and  sorrowing 
over  the  misfortunes  of  one  whose  lot  in 
?ife  had  been  far  sadder  than  my  own. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

THE   HALL  OF  THE   MARSHALS. 

Some  minutes  before  noon  we  entered 
the  Place  du  Carrousel,  now  thronged  with 
equipages  and  led  horses.  Officers,  in  the 
rich  uniforms  of  every  arm  of  the  service, 
were  pressing  their  way  to  the  palace,  amid 
the  crash  of  carriages,  the  buzz  of  recogni- 
tions, and  the  thundering  sounds  of  the 
brass  band,  whose  echo  was  redoubled  be- 
neath the  vaulted  vestibule  of  the  palace. 

Borne  along  with  the  torrent,  we  mount- 
ed the  wide  stair  and  passed  from  room  to 
room,  until  we  arrived  at  the  great  ante- 


chamber where  the  officers  of  the  house- 
hold were  assembled  in  their  splendid 
dresses.  Elere  the  crowd  was  bo  dense  we 
were  unable  to  move  on  for  some  time,  and 
it  was  after  nearly  an  hour's  waiting  thai 
we  at  last  found  ourselves  within  that  gor 
geous  gallery,  Darned  by  the  Emperor  "La 
Salle  des  .Mareehaux."  At  any  other  mo- 
ment my  attention  had  been  riveted  upon 
the  magnificence  and  beauty  of  this  greal 
salon,  its  pictures,  its  gildings,  the  richi 
of  the  hangings,  the  tasteful  elegance  of 
the  ceiling,  with  its  tracery  of  dull  gold, 
the  great  works  of  art  in  bronze  and  marble 
that  adorned  it  on  every  side  ;  but  now  my 
mind  took  another  and  very  dilTerent  range. 
Hero  around  me  were  mel  the  greatest 
generals  and  warriors  of  Europe.  The 
names,  second  alone  to  his,  who  had  no 
equal.  There  stood  Ney,  with  his  broad, 
retiring  forehead,  and  his  eyes  black  and 
flashing,  like  an  eagle's.  With  whatenergj 
he  spoke  !  how  full  of  passionate  vigor  that 
thick  and  rapid  utterance,  that  left  a 
tremulous  quivering  on  his  lip  even  when 
he  ceased  to  speak  !  What  a  contrast  to 
the  bronzed,  unmoved  features  of  the  large 
man  he  addressed,  and  who  listened  to  him 
with  such  deference  of  manner  ;  his  yellow 
moustache  bespeaks  not  the  Frenchman,  he 
is  a  German,  by  blood  at  least,  for  it  is 
Kellerman,  the  colonel  of  the  cuirassiers  of 
the  Guard.  And  yonder  was  Soult,  with 
his  strong  features  seamed  by  many  a  day 

i  of  hardship,  the  center  of  a  group  of  colo- 
nels of  the  stall,  to  whom  he  was  rapidly 

!  communicating  their  orders.     Close  beside 
him  stood  Lannes,  his  arm  in  a  sling  :  a 

j  gun-shot  wound  that  defied  the  art  of  the 

J  surgeons  still  deprived  him  of  his  left  hand. 

j  And  there  leaned  Savary  against  th^  win- 
dow, his  dark  eyes  riveted  on  the  corps  of 
gendarmerie  in  the  court  beneath.  Full 
taller  by  a  head  than  the  largest  about  him, 
he  seemed  almost  gigantic  in  the  massive 
accoutrements  of  his  service.  The  fierce 
Davoust  ;  the  gay  and  splendid  Murat. 
with  his  waving  plumes  and  jeweled  dol- 
man ;  Lefebvre,  the  very  type  of  his  class, 
moving  with  difficulty  from  a  wound  in  his 
hip — all  were  there  ;  while  passing  rapidly 
from  place  to  place,  I  remarked  a  young 
and  handsome  man,  whose  uniform  of 
colonel  bore  the  decoration  of  the  Legion  ; 
he  appeared  to  know  and  be  known  to  all : 
this  was  Eugene  Beauhamais,  the  stepson 
of  the  Emperor.  "Ah,  General  d'Au- 
vergne,"  cried  he,  approaching  with  a 
smile,  "his  Majesty  desires  to  see  you  after 
the  levee.  You  leave  to-night,  J  fcolieve  ?  " 
"Yes,  colonel,  all  is  in  readiness,"  said 
the   General,  while   I   thought   a   look   of 


416 


CHA  R  L  ES   L E I  rER8   WORKS. 


anxiety  at  the  Emperor's  summons  seemed 
bo  agitate  his  features. 

"One  of  your  staff  ?"  said  Beauharnais, 
bowing,  as  lie  looked  toward  me. 

"My  aide-de-camp,  Lieutenant  Burke," 
replied  the  General,  [(resenting  me. 

"Ah  !  I  remember,"  said  the  Colonel, 
as  he  drew  himself  proudly  up,  and  seemed 
as  though  the  recollection  were  anything 
but  favorable  to  me.  But  just  then  the 
wide-folding  doors  were  thrown  open,  and 
a  loud  voice  proclaimed,  "Sa  Majeste 
l'Empereur!"  In  an  instant  every  voice 
was  hushed,  the  groups  broke  up,  and  fell 
baek  into  two  long  lines,  between  which 
lay  a  passage  ;  along  this  the  officers  of  the 
palace  retired  slowly,  facing  the  Emperor, 
who  came  step  by  step  after  them.  I  could 
but  see  the  pale  face,  massive  and  regular, 
like  the  head  of  an  antique  cameo;  the 
hair  combed  straight  upon  his  fine  fore- 
head, and  his  large,  full  eyes,  as  they 
turned  hither  and  thither  among  that 
crowd,  once  his  equals,  now  how  immeasur- 
ably his  inferiors  !  He  stopped  every  now 
and  then  to  say  a  word  or  two  to  some  one 
as  he  passed,  but  in  so  low  a  tone  that, 
even  in  the  dead  silence  around,  nothing 
was  aud'ble  save  a  murmur.  It  was  a  relief 
to  my  own  excited  feelings  as,  with  high, 
beating  heart,  I  gazed  on  the  greatest 
monarch  of  the  world,  that  I  beheld  the 
others  around,  the  oldest  generals,  the 
time-worn  companions  of  his  battles,  not 
less  moved  than  myself. 

While  the  Emperor  passed  slowly  along, 
I  could  mark  that  Eugene  Beauharnais  mov- 
ed rapidly  through  the  gallery,  whispering 
now  to  this  one,  now  to  that,  among  the 
officers  of  superior  grade,  who,  immediately 
after,  left  the  salon  by  a  door  at  the  end. 
At  length  he  approached  General  d'Au- 
vergne,  saying, 

"The  audience  of  the  marshals  will  not 
occupy  more  than  half  an  hour  ;  pray  be 
in  readiness  to  wait  on  his  Majesty  when 
he  calls.  You  can  remain  in  the  blue 
drawing-room  next  the  gallery." 

The  general  bowed,  and,  taking  my  arm, 
moved  slowly  from  the  spot  in  the  direc- 
tion mentioned,  and  in  a  few  minutes  we 
found  ourselves  in  the  small  room  where 
the  Empress  used  to  receive  her  morning- 
visitors  during  the  Consulate. 

"You  remember  this  salon,  Burke,"  said 
the  General,  carelessly. 

"  Yes,  sir,  but  too  well ;  it  was  here  that 
his  Majesty  gave  me  that  rebuke — " 

"  True,  true,  my  dear  boy  ;  I  forgot  that 
completely.  But  come,  there  has  been  time 
enough  to  forget  it  since.  I  wonder  what 
can  mean  this  summons  to  attend  here  ! — 


I  have  received  my  orders — there  has  been,, 
so  far  as  I  understand,  no  change  of  plan. 
Well,  well,  we  shall  soon  know — see,  the 
levee  has  begun  to  break  up  already — there 
goes  the  stall'  of  the  artillery — thai  roll  of 
the  drum  is  for  some  general  of  division.*' 

And  now  the  crash  of  carriages,  and  the 
sounds  of  cavalry  escorts,  jingling  beside 
them,  mingled  with  the  deep  beating  of  the 
drums,  made  a  mass  of  noises  that  filled 
the  air,  and  continued  without  interrup- 
tion for  above  an  hour. 

"  Sacristi  /"  cried  the  General,  "the 
crowd  seems  to  pour  in  as  fast  as  it  goes  out. 
This  may  last  for  the  entire  day.  I  have 
scarce  two  hours  left  me  now." 

He  walked  the  room  impatiently,  now 
muttering  some  broken  words  to  himself, 
now  stopping  to  listen  to  the  sounds  with- 
out. Still  the  din  continued,  and  the  dis- 
tant roll  of  equipages,  growing  louder  as 
they  came,  told  that  the  tide  was  yet  press- 
ing onward  toward  the  palace.  "  Three 
o'clock,"  cried  the  General,  as  the  bell  of  the 
pavilion  sounded.  "  At  four  I  was  to  leave  ; 
such  were  my  written  orders,  signed  by  the 
minister." 

His  impatience  now  became  extreme.  He 
knew  how  difficult  it  was,  in  a  matter  of 
military  discipline,  to  satisfy  Napoleon  that 
any  breach,  even  when  caused  by  his  direct 
orders,  was  not  a  fault.  Besides,  his  old 
habits  had  taught  him  to  respect  a  com- 
mand from  the  Minister  of  War  as  some- 
thing above  all  others. 

"  Beauharnais  must  have  mistaken,"  said 
he,  angrily.  "His  Majesty  gave  me  my 
final  directions.     I'll  wait  no  longer." 

Yet  did  he  hesitate  to  leave,  and  seemed 
actually  to  rely  on  me  for  some  hint  for 
his  guidance.  J  did  not  dare  to  offer  a  sug- 
gestion, and  while  thus  we  both  stood  un- 
certain, the  door  opened,  and  a  huissier 
called  out, 

' '  Lieutenant-General  d'Auvergne — this 
way,  sir,"  said  the  official,  as  he  threw  open 
a  folding-door  into  a  long  gallery  that  look- 
ed into  the  garden.  They  passed  out  to- 
gether, and  I  was  alone. 

The  agitation  of  the  general,  at  this  un- 
expected summons,  had  communicated  it- 
self to  me,  but  in  a  far  different  way  ;  for 
I  imagined  that  his  Majesty  desired  only  to 
confer  some  mark  of  favor  on  the  gallant 
old  general  before  parting  with"  him.  Yet 
did  I  not  venture  to  suggest  this  to  him,  for 
fear  I  should  be  mistaken. 

While  I  revolved  these  doubts  in  my 
mind,  the  door  was  flung  open  with  a  crash, 
and  a  page  in  the  uniform,  of  the  Court, 
rushed  in. 

"  May  I  ask,  sir,"  cried  he,  breathlessly, 


'4I  BELIEVE,  SIR,"  SAID  I,  "  I  COMPREHEND  YOUR  MEANING;  I  HOPE  THERE  WILL  BE  NO  FEAIi  OF 
YOUR  MISTAKING  MINE."  WITH  THAT  I  DLEW  OFF  THE  LONG  GAUNTLET  GLOVE  I  Wf.RE 
AND    STRUCK    HIM    ACROSS   THE    FACE.       (P.  420.) 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


417 


"can  yon  inform  me  where  is  the  aide-di  - 
camp  of  the  General  d'Auvergne — I  forget 
the  name,  unfortunately  ?" 

"  I  am  the  person — Lieutenant  Burke  '." 

"The  same;  that  is  the  name.  Come 
after  me  with  all  haste  this  way."  And, 
so  saying,  he  rushed  down  a  flight  of  stone 
stairs,  clearing  six  or  seven  at  a  spring. 

"A  hurried  business  this,  lieutenant," 
said  .the  page,  laughingly.  "Took  them 
all  by  surprise,  I  fancy." 

"What  is  it?  — what  do  you  mean?*' 
asked  I,  eagerly. 

"  Hush  !"  said  lie.  placing  his  finger  on 
his  lips  ;  "  here  they  come." 

We  had  just  time  to  stand  to  one  side  of 
the  gallery,  as  the  officers  of  the  household 
came  up,  two  and  two,  followed  by  the 
Chancellor  of  France,  and  the  Dean  of  St. 
Roch,  in  his  full  canonicals.  They  ap- 
proached the  table,  on  which  several  pa- 
pers and  documents  were  lying,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  sign  their  names  to  different  writ- 
ings before  them.  While  I  looked  on,  puz- 
zled and  amazed,  totally  unable  to  make 
the  most  vague  conjecture  of  the  nature  of 
the  proceedings,  I  perceived  that  General 
d'Auvergne  had  entered  the  room,  and  was 
standing  among  the  rest  at  the  table. 

"  Whose  signature  did  you  propose  here, 
General  ?  "  said  the  Chancellor,  as  he  took 
up  a  paper  before  him. 

"  My  aide-de-camp,  Lieutenant  Burke." 

"  He  is  here,  sir,"  said  the  page,  stepping 
forward. 

"  You  are  to  sign  your  name  here,  sir, 
and  again  on  this  side,"  said  the  Chancel- 
lor, "  with  your  birthplace  annexed,  age, 
and  rank  in  the  service." 

"I  am  a  foreigner,"  said  I  ;  "does  that 
make  any  difference  here  ?" 

"None,"  said  he,  smiling;  "the  wit- 
ness is  but  a  very  subordinate  personage 
here." 

I  took  the  pen,  and  proceeded  to  write  as 
I  was  desired  ;  and,  while  thus  engaged, 
the  door  opened,  and  a  short,  heavy  step 
crossed  the  room.  I  did  not  dare  to  look 
up ;  some  secret  feeling  of  terror  ran 
through  me,  and  told  me  it  was  the  Em- 
peror himself. 

"  Well,  D'Auvergne,"  said  he,  in  a  frank, 
bold  way,  quite  different  from  his  ordinary 
voice,  "you  seem  but  half  content  with 
this  plan  of  mine.  Pardieu  !  there's  many 
a  brave  fellow  would  not  deem  the  case  so 
hard  a  one." 

"As  your  wish,  sire — " 

"As  mine,  dianlre!  my  friend  ;  do  not 
say  mine  only  ;  you  forget  that  the  lady  ex- 
pressed herself  equally  satisfied.  Come  !  is 
the  acte  completed  ?  " 

VOL.  1—2? 


"It wants  but  your  Majesty's  signature," 
said  the  Chancellor. 

The  Emperor  took  the  pen,  and  dashed 
some  indescribable  scroll  across  the  papei  . 
then  turning  suddenly  toward  th<  general, 
he  conversed  with  him  eagerly  for  several 
minutes,  but  in  so  low  a  voice  as  not  to  be 
audible  where  1  stood.  J  could  bul  ci 
the  words,  "Darmstadt  Augsburg  the 
fourth  corps,"  from  which  n  eemed  the 
movements  of  the  army  were  the  subject ; 
when  he  added,  in  a  louder  voice, 

"Every  hour  now  is  worth  a  day,  ay,  a 
week,  hereafter.  Remember  that,  D'Au- 
vergne." 

"Everything  is  finished,  sire,"  said  the 
Chancellor  handing  the  folded  papers  to 
the  Emperor. 

"These  are  for  your  keeping,  general," 
said  he,  delivering  them  into  D'Auverg] 
hand. 

"Pardon,  sire,"  said  the  Chancellor, 
hastily,  "I  have  made  a  great  error  here. 
Madame  la  Comtesse  has  not  appended  her 
signature  to  the  consent." 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  the  Emperor,  smiling. 
"We  have  been  too  hasty,  it  would  seem  ; 
so  thinks  our  reverend  father  of  Saint  Roch, 
I  perceive,  who  is  evidently  not  accustomed 
to  officiate  an  coup  de  tambour." 

"Her  Majesty  the  Empress!"  said  the 
huissier.  as  he  opened  the  doors  to  permit 
her  to  enter.  She  was  dressed  mfull  Court 
dress,  covered  with  jewels.  She  held  within 
her  arm  the  hand  of  another,  over  whose 
figure  a  deep  vail  was  thrown,  that  entirely 
concealed  her  from  head  to  foot. 

"Madame  la  Comtesse  will  have  the 
kindness  to  sign  this,"  said  the  Chancellor, 
as  he  handed  over  a  pen  to  the  lady.  She 
threw  back  her  vail  as  he  spoke.  As  she 
turned  toward  the  table,  I  saw  the  pale,  al- 
most deathlike  features  of  Marie  de  Meu- 
don.  Such  was  the  shock,  I  scarce  re- 
strained a  cry  from  bursting  forth,  and  a 
film  fell  before  my  eyes  as  I  looked,  and 
the  figures  before  me  floated  like  masses  of 
vapor  before  my  sight. 

The  Empress  now  spoke  to  the  general, 
but  no  longer  could  I  take  notice  of  what 
was  said.  Voices  there  were,  but  they  con- 
veyed nothing  to  my  mind.  A  terrible 
rush  of  thoughts,  too  quick  for  perception, 
chased  each  other  through  my  brain,  and  I 
'felt  as  though  my  temples  were  bursting 
open  from  some  pressure  within.  Suddenly 
the  general  moved  forward,  and  knelt  to 
kiss  the  Empress's  hand  ;  he  then  took  that 
of  Mademoiselle  de  Meudon,  and  held  it  To 
his  lips.  I  heard  the  word  "Adieu!" 
faintly  uttered  by  her  low  voice  ;  the  vail 
fell  once  more  over  her  features  :  that  mu< 


418 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


ment  a  stir  followed,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
more  we  were  descending  the  stairs  alone, 
the  general  leaning  on  my  arm,  his  right 
hand  pressed  across  his  eyes.  When  we 
reached  the  court,  several  officers  of  rank 
pressed  forward,  and  I  could  hear  the  buzz 
of  phrases  implying  congratulations  and 
joy,  to  which  the  old  general  replied  briefly, 
and  with  evident- depression  of  manner. 
The  dreadful  oppression  of  a  sad  dream 
was  over  me  slid,  and  I  felt  as  though  to 
awake  Avere  impossible,  when,  to  some  re- 
mark near  him,  the  general  replied  : 

'•  True  !  quite  true,  monseigneur  ;  I  have 
made  her  my  wife.  There  only  remains 
one  reparation  for  it,  which  is  to  make  her 
my  widow." 

"His  wife!"  said  I,  aloud,  re-echoing 
the  word  without  knowing. 

'•'Even  so,  mon  ami,'"  said  he,  pressing 
my  hand  softly.  "My  name  and  my  for- 
tune are  both  hers.  As  for  myself — we 
shall  never  meet  again."  He  turned  away 
his  head  as  he  spoke,  nor  uttered  another 
word  during  the  remainder  of  the  way. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  Rue  de  Rohan 
the  horses  were  harnessed  to  the  carriage, 
and  all  in  readiness  for  our  departure.  The 
rumor  of  expected  war  had  brought  a  crowd 
of  idlers  about  the  door,  through  which  we 
passed  with  some  difficulty  into  the  house. 
Hastily  throwing  an  eye  over  the  now  dis- 
mantled room,  the  old  general  approached 
the  window  that  looked  out  on  the  Tuileries. 
"  Adieu  !  "  muttered  he  to  himself  ;  "je  ne 
vous  r  ever  rai  jamais  I"  And  with  that  he 
pressed  his  traveling-cap  over  his  brows, 
and  descended  the  stairs. 

A  cheer  burst  from  the  mob — the  pos- 
tilion's whip  cracked  loudly — -the  horses 
dashed  over  the  pavement — and,  ere  the 
first  flurry  of  mad  excitement  had  subsided 
from  my  mind,  Paris  was  some  miles  be- 
hind us,  and  we  were  hastening  on  toward 
the  frontier. 

Almost  every  man  has  experienced  at 
least  one  period  in  his  life  when  the  cur- 
tain seems  to  drop,  and  the  drama  in  which 
he  has  hitherto  acted  to  end  ;  when  a  total 
change  appears  to  pass  over  the  interests 
he  has  lived  among,  and  a  new  and  very 
different  kind  of  existence  to  open  before 
him.  Such  is  the  case  when  the  death  of 
friends  has  left  us  alone  and  companion- 
less  ;  when  they,  into  whose  ears  we  poured 
our  whole  thoughts  of  sorrow  or  of  joy,  are 
gone,  and  we  look  around  upon  the  bleak 
world,  without  a  tie  to  existence,  without 
one  hope  to  cheer  us.  How  naturally  then 
do  we  turn  from  every  path  and  place  once 
lingered  over  ;  how  do  we  fly  the  thoughts 
wherein  once  consisted  our  greatest  happi- 


ness, and  .-eck,  from  other  sources,  impres- 
sions less  painful,  because  unconnected 
with  the  past.  Still  the  bereavement  of 
death  is  never  devoid  of  a  sense  of  holy 
calm,  a  sort  of  solemn  peace  connected 
with  the  memory  of  the  lost  one.  In 
i  the  sleep  that  knows  no  waking,  we  see 
the  end  of  earthly  troubles — in  the  silence 
of  the  grave  come  no  sounds  of  this  world's 
I  contention — the  winds  thai  stir  the  rank 
j  grass  of  the  churchyard  breathe,  at  least, 
repose.  Not  so  when  fate  has  severed  us 
from  those  we  loved  best  during  lifetime  ; 
|  when  the  fortunes  we  hoped  to  link  with 
our  own  are  torn  asunder  from  us  ;  when 
the  hour  comes  when  we  must  turn  from 
the  path  we  had  followed  with  pleasure  and 
happiness,  and  seek  another  road  in  life, 
bearing  with  us  not  only  all  the  memory  of 
the  past,  but  all  the  speculation  on  the  fu- 
ture. There  is  no  sorrow,  no  affliction, 
like  this. 

It  was  thus  I  viewed  my  joyless  fortune 
— with  such  depressing  reflections  I  thought 
over  the  past.  What  mattered  it  now  how 
my  career  might  turn  ;  there  lived  not  one 
to  care  whether  rank  or  honor,  disgrace  or 
death,  were  to  be  my  portion.  The  glori- 
ous path  I  often  longed  to  tread  opened  for 
me  now,  without  exciting  one  spark  of  en- 
thusiasm ;  so  is  it  even  in  our  most  selfish 
desires,  we  live  less  for  ourselves  than 
others. 

If  my  road  in  life  seemed  to  present  few 
features  to  hang  hopes  on,  he  who  sat  be- 
side me  appeared  still  more  depressed.  Sel- 
dom speaking,  and  then  but  in  monosyl- 
lables, he  remained  sunk  in  reverie.  And 
thus  passed  the  days  of  our  journey,  when, 
on  the  third  evening,  we  came  in  sight  of 
Coblentz.  Then  indeed  there  burst  upon 
my  astonished  gaze  one  of  those  scenes 
which,  once  seen,  are  never  forgotten. 
From  the  gentle  declivity  which  we  were 
now  descending,  the  view  extended  several 
j  miles  in  every  direction.  Beneath  us  lay 
j  the  city  of  Coblentz,  its  spires  and  domes 
;  shining  like  gilded  'bronze  as  the  rays  of  the 
setting  sun  fell  upon  them  ;  the  Moselle 
swept  along  one  side  of  the  town  till  it 
mingled  its  eddies,  with  the  broad  Ehine, 
now  one  sheet  of  liquid  gold  ;  the  long 
pontoon  bridge,  against  whose  dark  cut- 
waters the  bright  stream  broke  in  spark- 
ling circles,  trembled  beneath  the  dull  roll 
of  artillery  and  baggage-wagons,  which 
might  be  seen  issuing  from  the  town,  and 
serpentining  their  course  along  the  river's 
edge  for  miles,  till  they  were  lost  in  the 
narrow  glen  by  which  the  Lahn  flows  into 
the  Rhine  ;  beyond  rose  the  great  precipice 
of  rock,  with  its  crowning  fortress  of  Ehren 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


419 


breitstein,  along  whose  battlemented  walls, 
almost  lost  in  the  heavy  clouds  of  evening, 
might  be  seen  dark  specks  moving  from 
place  to  place — the  soldiers  of  the  garrison 
looking  down  from  their  eyrie  on  the  war- 
tide  that  flowed  beneath.  Lower  down  the 
river  many  boats  were  crossing,  in  which, 
as  the  sunlight  shone,  one  could  mark  the 
glancing  of  arms  and  the  glitter  of  uni- 
forms ;  while  farther  again,  and  in  dee]) 
shadow,  rose  the  solitary  towers  of  the 
ruined  castle  of  Lahneck,  its  shattered 
walls  and  grass-grown  battlements  standing 
clearly  out  against  the  evening  sky. 

Far  as  we  were  off,  every  breeze  that 
stirred  bore  toward  us  the  softened  swell 
of  military  music,  which,  even  when  too 
faint  to  trace,  made  the  air  tremulous  with 
its  martial  sounds.  Along  the  ramparts  of 
the  city  were  crowds  of  townspeople,  gaz- 
ing with  anxious  wonderment  at  the  spec- 
tacle ;  for  none  knew,  save  the  generals  in 
command  of  divisions,  the  destination  of 
that  mighty  force,  the  greatest  Europe  had 
ever  seen  up  to  that  period.  Such  indeed 
were  the  measures  taken  to  insure  secrecy  ; 
that  none  were  permitted  to  cross  the  fron- 
tier without  a  special  authority  from  the 
Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs  ;  the  letters  in 
the  various  post-offices  were  detained,  and 
even  travelers  were  denied  post-horses  on 
the  great  roads  to  the  eastward,  lest  intelli- 
gence might  be  conveyed  to  Germany  of  the 
movement  in  progress.  Meanwhile  at  Man- 
heim,  at  Spire,  at  Strasburg,  and  at  Co- 
blentz,  the  long  columns  streamed  forth 
whose  eagles  were  soon  destined  to  meet  in 
the  great  plains  of  Southern  Germany. 
Such  was  the  gorgeous  spectacle  that  each 
moment  grew  more  palpable  to  our  aston- 
ished senses — more  brilliant  far  than  any- 
thing painting  could  realize — more  spirit- 
stirring  than  the  grandest  words  that  poet 
ever  sang. 

"The  cuirassiers  and  the  dragoons  of  the 
Guard  are  yonder,"  said  the  General,  as  he 
directed  his  glass  to  a  'large  square  of  the 
town,  where  a  vast  mass  of  dismounted  cav- 
alry were  standing;  "you  see  how  punc- 
tual they  are  ;  we  are  but  two  hours 
behind  our  time,  and  they  are  awaiting  our 
arrival." 

"And  do  we  move  forward  to-night, 
general  ?  "  asked  I,  in  some  surprise. 

"  Yes,  and  every  night.  The  marches 
are  to  be  made  fourteen  hours  each  day. 
There  go  the  Lancers  of  Berg — you  see 
their  scarlet  dolmans,  don't  you  ?  and  yon- 
der, in  the  three  large  boats,  beyond  the 
point,  there  are  the  sappers  of  the  Guard. 
What  are  theshouts  I  hear  ? — whence  comes 
that  cheering  ?" 


"Oh,  I  see— it's  a  vivandiere  ;  her  horse 

I  has  backed  into  the  river.  See — see  ! — she 
{ is  going  to  swim  him  over  !  I  .<>,,!<  bow  the 
current  takes  him  down.  Bravel)  done, 
faith  !  She  heads  him  to  the  stream— it 
won't  do,  though  ;  she  musl  be  carried 
down."  dust  at  this  critical  moment,  a 
boat  shoots  out  from  under  the  cliff — a  few 
strokes  of  the  oars,  and  they  are  alongside. 
There's  a  splash  and  a  shout,  and  the  skiff 
moves  on.  "And  now  I  see  they  have 
given  her  a  rope,  and  are  towing  her  and 
her  horse  across." 

"  See  how  the  old  spirit  comes  back  with 
the  first  blast  of  the  trumpet,"  said  the  old 
General,  as  his  eyes  flashed  with  enthusi- 
asm. "That  damsel  there — I'll  warrant 
ye — she'd  have  thought  twice  aboni  step- 
ping over  a  rivulet  in  the  streets  of  Paris 
yesterday,  and  look  at  her  now.  Well 
done  ! — gallantly  done  !  See  how  she  spurs 
him  up  the  bank  !  Ma  foi,  mademoiselle, 
you'll  have  no  lack  of  lovers  for  that 
achievement." 

A  few  minutes  more  and  we  entered  the 
town,  whose  streets  were  thronged  with 
soldiers  hurrying  on  to  their  different  corps, 
and  eager  townsfolk  asking  a  hundred  ques- 
tions, to  which,  of  course,  few  waited  to 
reply. 

"This  way,  general,''  said  an  officer  in 
undress,  who  recognized  General  d'Au- 
vergne.  "  The  cavalry  of  the  third  divi- 
sion is  stationed  in  the  square." 

Driving  through  a  narrow  street,  through 
which  the  caleche  had  barely  room  to  pass, 
we  now  found  ourselves  in  the  Place,  a 
handsome  space  surrounded  with  a  double 
row  of  trees,  under  which  the  dragoons 
were  lying,  holding  the  bridles  of  their 
horses. 

The  gen'eral  had  scarcely  put  foot  to 
ground  when  the  trumpets  sounded  the 
call.  The  superior  officers  came  running 
forward  to  greet  him.  Taking  the  arm  of 
a  short  man  in  the  uniform  of  the  cuiras- 
siers, the  general  entered  a  cafe  mar.  while 
I  became  the  center  of  some  dozen  officers, 
all  eagerly  asking  the  news  from  Pans,  and 
whether  the  Emperor  had  yet  left  the  cap- 
ital. It  was  not  without  considerable  as- 
tonishment I  then  perceived  how  totally 
ignorant  they  all  were  of  the  destination 
of  the  army— many  alleging  it  was  designed 
for  Russia,  and  others  equally  positive  that 
the  Prussians  were  the  object  of  attack  ; 
the  arguments  in  support  of  each  opinion 
being  wonderfully  ingenious,  and  only  de- 
ficient in  one  respect,  having  not  a  parti- 
cle of  fact  for  their  foundation.  In  the 
midst  of  these  conjecturings  came  a  new 
subject  for  discussion.,  for  one  of  the  group 


4<!0 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


who  had  just  received  a  letter  from  his 
brother,  ;i  page  at  the  Tuileries,  was  read- 
ing the  contents  aloud  for  the  benefit  of 
the  rest : 

"  Jules  says  that  they  are  all  astray  as 
to  the  Emperor's  movements  :  Duroc  has 
left  Paris  suddenly,  but  no  one  knows  for 
where  ;  the  only  thing  certain  is,  a  hot 
2ampaign  is  to  open  somewhere.  One  hun- 
dred and  eighty  thousand  men—*' 

"Bali  !"  said  an  old,  white-moustached 
major,  with  a  look  of  evident  unbelief  ; 
"  we  never  had  forty  with  the  army  of  the 
Sambre." 

"And  what  then  ?"  said  another  fierce- 
ly ;  "  do  you  compare  your  army  of  the 
Sambre,  your  sans  culottes  republicans, 
with  the  Imperial  troops  ?  " 

The  old  major's  face  became  deeply  crim- 
soned, and  with  a  muttered  "  A  demain," 
he  walked  away. 

"  Go  after  him,  Amedee,"  said  another  ; 
"you  had  no  right  to  say  that." 

"Not  I,  faith,"  said  the  other,  careless- 
ly; "there  is  a  grudge  between  us  these 
three  weeks  past,  and  we  may  as  well  have 
it  out.     Go  on  with  the  letter,  Henri." 

"  Oh,  it  is  filled  with  Court  gossip," 
said  the  reader,  negligently.  "  Ha  !  what's 
this,  though — the  postscript :  " 

"  '  I  have  just  time  to  tell  you  the  strang- 
est bit  cf  news  we  have  chanced  upon  for 
some  time  past.  The  Emperor  has  this 
moment  married  old  General  d'Auvergne 
to  the  very  handsomest  girl  in  the  Em- 
press's suite.  Mademoiselle  de  Meudon. 
There  is  a  rumor  afloat  about  the  old  man 
having  made  her  his  heir,  and  desiring  to 
confer  her  hand  on  some  young  fellow  of 
his  own  choosing ;  but  -this  passion  to 
make  Court  matches,  which  has  seized  his 
Majesty  lately,  stops  at  nothings  and  it  is 
whispered  that  old  Madame  d'Orvalle  is 
actually  terrified  at  every  levee,  lest  she 
should  be  disposed  of  to  one  of  the  new 
marshals.  I  must  say  that  the  general 
looks  considerably  put  out  by  the  arrange- 
ment ;  not  unnaturally,  perhaps,  as  he  is 
likely  to  pass  the  honeymoon  in  the  field  ; 
while  his  aide-de-camp,  a  certain  Monsieur 
Burke,  whose  name  you  may  remember 
figuring  in  the  affair  of  Pichegu  and 
George — ' " 

"Perhaps  it  were  as  well,  sir,"  said  I, 
quietly,  "that  I  should  tell  you  the  per- 
son alluded  to  is  myself.  I  have  no  desire 
to  learn  how  your  correspondent  speaks  of 
me  ;  nor,  I  take  it  for  granted,  do  these 
gentlemen  desire  to  canvass  me  in  my  own 
hearing ;  with  your  leave,  then,  I  shall 
withdraw." 

"A   word,   monsieur,  one  word,  first," 


said  the  officer,  whose  insolent  talent  had  al- 
ready offended  the  veteran  major;  "we 
are  most  of  us  here  staff  officers,  and  I  need 
not  say  accustomed  to  live  pretty  much  to- 
gether. Will  you  favor  us,  then,  with  a 
little  explanation  as  to  the  manner  in  which 
you  escaped  a  trial  in  that  business  :  your 
name,  if  I  mistake  not,  did  not  figure  be- 
fore the  tribunal  after  the  first  day  ?" 

"  Well,  sir  ;  and  then  ?" 

"And  then  ?  why  there  is  one  only  ex- 
planation in  such  a  circumstance." 

"And  that  is  ?  if  1  may  he  so  hold—" 

"That  the  'mouchard'  fares  better 
than  his  victim." 

"I  believe,  sir,"  said  I,  "I  comprehend 
your  meaning  ;  I  hope  there  will  be  no  fear 
of  your  mistaking  mine."  With  that  I 
drew  off  the  long  gauntlet  glove  I  wore, 
and  struck  him  across  the  face. 

Every  man  sprang  backward  as  I  did  so, 
as  though  a  shell  had  fallen  in  the  midst 
of  us ;  while  a  deep  voice  called  out  from 
behind  : 

"  Le  Capitaine  Amedee  Pichot  is  under 
arrest. " 

I  turned,  and  beheld  the  provost  mar- 
shal with  his  guard  approach,  and  take  my 
adversary's  sword  from  him. 

"What  charge  is  this,  marshal?"  said 
he,  as  a  livid  color  spread  over  his  cheek. 
*"  Your  duel  of  yesterday,  capitaine  ;  you 
seem  to  forget  all  about  it  already." 

"  Whenever  and  wherever  you  please, 
sir,"  said  I,  passing  close  beside  him,  and 
speaking  in  a  whisper. 

He  nodded  without  uttering  a  word  in 
reply,  and  moved  after  the  guard,  while  the 
others  dispersed  silently,  and  left  me  stand- 
ing alone  in  the  Place. 

What  would  I  not  have  given  at  that 
moment  for  but  one  friend  to  counsel  and 
advise  me :  and  yet,  save  the  general,  to 
whom  I  dared  not  speak  on  such  a  subject, 
I  had  not  one  in  the  whole  world.  It  was, 
indeed,  but  too  true,  that  life  had  little  value 
for  me  ;  yet  never  did  I  contemplate  a  duei 
with  more  abhorrence.  The  insult  I  had 
inflicted,  however,  could  have  no  other  re- 
sult. While  I  reasoned  thus,  the  door  of 
the  cafe  opened,  and  the  general  appeared. 

"Burke,"  cried  he,  "  come  in  here,  and 
make  a  hasty  supper ;  you  must  be  in  the 
saddle  in  half  an  hour." 

"Quite  ready,  sir." 

"  I  know  it,  my  lad.  Your  orders  are 
there  :  ride  forward'  to  Ettingen,  and  prepare 
the  billets  for.  the  fourth  demi-brigadc, 
which  will  reach  that  village  by  to-morrow 
evening;  you'll  have  time  for  something  to 
eat,  and  a  glass  of  wine,  before  the  orderly 
arrives.     This  piece  of  duty  is  put  on  you, 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS.11 


421 


because  a  certain  Captain  Pichot,  the  only 
one  of  the  commissaries'  department  who 
can  speak  German,  has  jus!  been  put  under 
arrest  for  a  duel  he  fought  yesterday.  I 
wish  the  court-martial  would  shool  the  fel- 
low, with  all  my  heart  and  soul,  he's  a 
perfect  curse  to  the  whole  division.  In  any 
case,  if  he  escape  this  time,  I'll  keep  my 
eye  on  him,  and  he'll  scarce  get  clear 
through  my  hands,  1  warrant  him." 

It  may  be  supposed  that  I  heard  these 
words  with  no  common  emotion,  bearing  as 
they  did  so  closely  on  my  own  circum- 
stances at  the  moment,  but  I  hung  down 
my  head  and  affected  to  eat,  while  the  old 
general  walked  hastily  up  and  down  the 
salon,  muttering,  half  aloud,  heavy  de- 
nunciations on  the  practice  of  dueling, 
which,  at  any  cost  of  life,  he  resolved  to  put 
down  in  his  command. 

"Done  already  !  why,  man,  you've  eaten 
nothing.  Well,  then,  I  see  the  orderly 
without :  you've  got  a  capital  moonlight  for 
your  ride;  and  so,  au  revoir." 

"  Good-by,  sir,"  said  I,  as  I  sprang  into 
the  saddle  ;  "and  now  for  Ettingen." 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

THE   MARCH  ON  THE  DANUBE. 

There  is  a  strange,  unnatural  kind  of 
pleasure  felt  sometimes  in  the  continued 
attacks  of  evil  fortune  :  the  dogged  courage 
with  which  we  bear  up  against  the  ills  -of 
fate,  swimming  more  strongly  as  the  waves 
grow  rougher,  has  its  own  meed  of  con- 
solation. It  is  only  at  such  a  time,  per- 
haps, that  the  really  independent  spirit  of 
cur  natures  is  in  the  ascendant,  and  that  we 
can  stand  amid  the  storm,  conscious  of  our 
firmness,  and  bid  the  winds  "blow  and 
crack  their  cheeks.''  Yet  through  how  many 
sorrows  must  one  have  waded  ere  he  reach 
this  point  —  through  what  trials  must  he 
have  passed— how  must  hope  have  paled, 
and  flickered,  and  died  out — how  must  all 
self-love,  all  ambition,  all  desire  itself  have 
withered  within  us — till  we  become  like  the 
mere  rock  amid  the  breakers,  against  which 
the  waves  beat  in  vain  !  When  that  hour 
comes,  the  heart  has  grown  cold  and  callous 
— the  affections  have  dried  up — and  man 
looks  no  more  upon  his  fellcw-men  as  bro- 
thers. Toward  this  sad  condition  I  found 
myself  rapidly  verging— the  isolation  of  my 
homeless,  friendless  state — the  death  of  my 
hopes — the  uncheered  path  in  which  I  walked 
— all  conspired  to  make  me  feel  depressed — 
and  I  perceived  that  a  half-recklessness  was 


already  stealing  over  me— and  [hat,  in  my 
indifference  as  to  fortune,  now  lay  my 
greatest  consolation.  There  was  a  time  when 

such  a  rencontre  as  lately  befell  me  had 
made  me  miserable  till  the  hour  came  when 
Ishould  mee!  my  adversary  :  now,  my  blood 
boiled  with  no  indignant  passion — no  cm 
rent  of  angry  vengeance  stirred  through 
my  veins — a  s!  lipid  sullenness  was  over  me, 
and  I  cared  nothing  what  might  happen. 
And  if  this  state  1  ecame  not  permanent,  1 
owe  it  to  youth  alone— the  mainspring  of 
many  of  our  best  endeavors. 

We  had  traveled  some  seven  or  eight 
miles,  when  we  stopped  for  a  few  seconds 
at  the  door  of  a  cabaret,  and  then  I  dis- 
covered for  the  first  time  that  my  old  friend 
Pioche  was  the  corporal  of  our  little  party. 
To  my  slight  reproach  for  his  not  having 
sooner  made  himself  known  to  me,  the 
honest  fellow  replied  that  he  saw  1  was  low 
in  spirits  about  something,  and  did  not  wish 
to  obtrude  upon  me.  "Not  but,  after  all, 
mon  lieutenant,  the  best  way  is  always  to 
'  face  front '  against  bad  luck,  and  charge 
through — sapermint,  that's  the  way  we  did 
at  Marengo,  when  Desaix's  corps  was  cut  off 
from  the  left — But  pardon,  mon  officier,  I 
forgot  you  were  not  there."  There  was 
something  so  pleasant  in  the  gruff  courtesy 
of  the  hardy  cuirassier,  that  I  willingly  led 
him  on  to  speak  of  his  former  life-  a  sub- 
ject which,  once  entered  on,  he  followed  as 
fancy  or  memory  suggested. 

"I  used  to  feel  low-spirited  myself, 
once,"  said  Pioche,  as  he  smoothed  down 
his  great  moustache  with  a  complacent  mo- 
tion of  his  fingers — "  I  used  to  be  very  low 
in  heart  when  I  entered  the  service  first, 
and  saw  all  my  old  schoolfellows  and  com- 
panions winning  their  epaulettes,  and  be- 
coming captains  and  colonels — ay,  purlieu, 
and  marechals,  too — while,  because  I  could 
not  read,  I  was  to  remain  all  my  life  in  the 
ranks — as  if  one  could  not  force  a  palisade, 
nor  break  through  a  square,  till  he  had 
stuffed  his  head  with  learning.  All  this 
made  me  very  sad,  and  I  would  sit  brooding 
over  it  for  hours  long  ;  but  at  last  I  began 
to  think  my  own  lot  was  not  the  worst  after 
all — my  duty  was  easily  done,  and,  when 
over,  I  could  sleep  sound  till  the  rived 
blew.  I  ran  no  danger  of  being  scolded  by 
the  Petit  Caporal,  because  my  division  was 
not  somewhere  yesterday,  nor  in  some  other 
place  to-day.  He  never  came  with  a  frown 
to  ask  me  why  I  had  not  captured  another 
howitzer,  and  taken  more  prisoners,  >w>, 
faith  !  If  was  always,  '  Well  done,  Pioche 
— bravely  done,  mon  enfant  /—here's  a  piece 
of  twenty  francs  to  drink  my  health.'  Or, 
perhaps,  he'd  mutter  between  his  teeth,- 


¥1% 


CHARLES  LEVERS    WORKS. 


'That  honest  fellow  there  would  maki  a 
better  general  than  one-half  of  them,' — not 
that  he  was  in  earnest,  you  know — but  still 
it  was  pleasant  just  to  hear  it." 

"And  yet,  Pioche,"  said  1,  "it  does  sur- 
prise me  why,  seeing  that  this  want  of 
learning  was  the  bar  to  your  promotion, 
you  did  not — " 

"And  so  I  did,  mon  lieutenant  ;  at  least 
I  tried  to  learn  to  read.  Morileu!  it  was  a 
weary  time  for  me.  I'd  rather  be  under 
arrest  three  days  a  week,  than  be  at  it  again. 
Mademoiselle  Minette — she  was  the  vivan- 
dicre  of  ours — undertook  to  teach  me  ;  and 
I  used  to  go  over  to  the  canteen  every  even- 
ing after  drill.  Many  a  sad  heart  had  I 
over  these  same  lessons.  Saprelotte,  I  could 
learn  the  look  of  every  man  in  a  brigade 
before  I  could  know  the  letters  in  the  alpha- 
bet, they  looked  so  confoundedly  alike  when 
they  stood  up  all  in  a  line.  The  only  fel- 
lows I  could  distinguish  were  the  big  ones, 
that  were  probably  the  sergeants  and  sons- 
offiriers ;  and  when  my  eye  was  fixed  on 
one  column,  it  would  stray  away  to  another, 
and  then  mademoiselle  would  laugh — and 
that  would  lead  to  something  else.  Et  ma 
foi,  the  spelling-hook  was  soon  thrown 
aside,  and  lessons  given  up  for  that  even- 
ing." 

"I  suppose  Mademoiselle  Minette  was 
pretty,  Pioche  ?" 

"  Was  !  ay,  and  is,  too.  What !  mon 
lieutenant,  did  you  never  see  her  on  parade  ? 
She's  the  handsomest  girl  in  the  army,  and 
rides  so  well — mille  canons  !  She  might 
have  been  a  great  lady  before  this,  if  she'd 
have  left  the  regiment — but  no,  she'd  die 
first  !  Her  father  was  tambour-major  with 
us,  and  killed  at  Groningen,  when  she  was 
only  an  infant — and  we  used  to  carry  her 
about  in  our  arms  on  the  march,  and  hand 
her  from  one  to  another.  I  have  seen  her 
pass  from  the  leading  files  to  the  baggage- 
guard,  on  a  long  summer's  day — that  I 
have.  Le  Petit  Caporal  knows  her  well — 
she  gave  him  a  gourd  full  of  eau  de-vie  at 
Cairo,  when  he  was  so  faint  he  could  scarcely 
speak.  It  was  after  that  he  saw  her  in  the 
breach  at  Acre — one  of  our  fellows  Avas 
lying  wounded  in  the  ruins,  and  made- 
moiselle waited  till  the  storming  party  fell 
back,  and  then  ran  up  to  him  with  her 
flask  in  her  hand.  'Whose  pretty  ankles 
are  these  ?  I  think  I  ought  to  know  them,' 
said  an  officer,  as  she  passed  along.  'No 
flattery  will  do  with  me,  monsieur,'  cried 
Minette  ;  '  it's  hard  enough  to  get  one's  liv- 
ing here,  without  giving  Nantz  brandy  for 
nothing.'  Sacristi !  when  the  laugh  made 
her  turn  about,  she  saw  it  was  the  Petit 
Caporal  himself  who  spoke  to  her.     Poor 


Minette!  she  blushed  scarlet,  and  nearly 
dropped  with  shame,  but  that  did  not  pre- 
sent her  dashing  up  the  In-each  toward  the 
wounded  man  ;  not  that  it  was  of  any  use, 
though—he  was  dead  when  she  got  up." 

"  I  should  like  much  to  see  Mademoiselle. 
Is  she  still  with  the  Fourth  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mon  lieutenant ;  I  parted  with  her 
a  few  hours  ago."  A  half  suppressed  sigh 
that  followed  these  words  showed  that  the 
worthy  corporal  was  touched  on  the  most 
tender  key  of  his  nature,  and  for  some  time 
he  lapsed  into  a  silence  I  could  not  venture 
to  break.  At  length,  desiring  to  give  the 
conversation  a  turn,  I  asked  if  he  knew  the 
Capitaine  Pichot. 

"Know  him  !"  cried  Pioche,  almost 
bounding  in  his  saddle  as  he  spoke.  "  That  I 
do.  Peste  !  I  have  good  reason  to  know  him. 
See  there."  With  that  he  lifted  the  curled 
moustache  from  his  upper  lip,  and  disclosed 
to  my  view  a  blue  scar  that  marked  one 
side  of  his  mouth.     "  That  was  his  doing." 

"  Indeed  !     How  so,  pray  ?  " 

"I'll  tell  you  ;  we  were  in  garrison  at 
Metz,  where,  as  you  know,  the  great  com- 
missariat station  is  held — thousands  of  can- 
non and  mortars,  shells  and  shot,  and  tons 
of  poAvder  without  end.  Well,  the  orders 
Avere  very  strict  against  smoking — any  man 
found  with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth  Avas  sen- 
tenced to  a  Aveek  in  the  'salle  de  police,' 
and  I  can't  say  what  else  besides.  When 
Ave  marched  into  the  town  this  order  stared 
us  everyAvhere  in  the  face — a  great  placard, 
with  big  letters,  which  they  who  could  read 
said  was  against  smoking.  Now,  most  of 
us  came  from  Alsace,  and  it  was  pretty 
much  like  setting  a  fish  to  live  on  dry  land, 
bidding  us  go  without  tobacco.  As  for  me, 
I  smoke  just  as  I  breathe,  AA'ithout  knoAving 
or  thinking  of  it.  My  pipe  lies  in  my  mouth 
as  naturally  as  my  foot  rests  in  the  stirrup  ; 
and  so,  although  I  intended  to  obey  the 
order,  I  knew  well  the  time  might  come 
Avhen,  just  from  not  thinking,  I  should  be 
caught  smoking  away — for  if  I  were  on 
guard  over  a  magazine  it  would  be  all  the 
same— I  could  not  help  it.  So  I  resolved, 
as  the  only  way  not  to  be  caught  tripping, 
to  leave  all  my  pipes  in  a  secret  place,  till 
the  time  came  for  us  to  leave  Metz — an 
hour,  I  need  not  say,  we  all  anxiously  long 
ed  for.  This  I  did,"  continued  Pioeher 
"  that  same  evening,  and  all  went  on  favora- 
bly for  some  time,  when  one  night,  as  I 
was  returning  to  quarters,  the  devil, 
Avho  meddles  with  everything  in  this 
world,  made  me  stick  my  hands  into  the 
pocket  of  my  undress  jacket,  and  I  there 
discovered  a  little  bit  of  a  pipe  about  the 
length  of  one  joint  of  your  thumb — a  poor 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


423 


scrubby  thing  of  clay,  sure  enough — but 
there  it  was,  and,  worse  still,  ready  filled 
with  tobacco.  Had  it  been  a  good-sized 
meerschaum,  with  a  tassel  and  an  amber 
mouthpiece,  I  had  resisted  like  a  man  ;  but 
the  temptation  came  in  so  humble  a  shape, 
I  thought  I  was  only  guilty  of  a  small  sin 
in  transgressing,  and  so  I  lit  my  little  friend, 
and  went  gayly  along  toward  the  barracks. 
Just  as  I  passed  th  3  corner  of  the  mar- 
ket-place I  heard  a  great  noise  of  voices  and 
laughing  in  a  cafe,  and  recognized  the  tones 
of  our  major  and  some  of  the  officers,  as 
they  sat  sipping  their  wine  in  the  verandah. 
Before  I  could  raise  my  hand  to  my  mouth, 
Capitaine  Pichot  cried  out — 'Halte  la! — ■ 
right  about  face — attention  ! — left  wheel — 
eyes  front ! '  This  I  did,  as  if  on  parade, 
and  stood  stock  still — when  suddenly  crack 
went  a  r.oise,  and  a  pistol  bullet  smashed 
the  pipe  in  two,  and  grazed  my  lip,  when  a 
roar  of  laughing  followed,  as  he  called  out 
louder  than  before — '  Quick  march  ! ' — and 
I  stepped  out  to  my  quarters,  never  turning 
my  head  right  or  left,  not  knowing  what 
other  ball  practice  might  be  in  store  for  me. 
Tonnerre  de  Dieu  !  a  little  windage  of  the 
shot  might  have  cost  me  every  tooth  I  have 
in  the  world." 

"It  was  a  cruel  jest,  Piochc,  and  you're 
a  good-humored  fellow  to  take  it  so  easily." 

"Not  so,  lieutenant.  I  had  no  punish- 
ment afterward,  and  was  well  content  to  be 
quit  for  the  fright." 

With  such  stray  memories  of  his  cam- 
paigning days  did  Pioche  beguile  the  way 
— now  moralizing  over  the  chances  and 
changes  of  a  soldier's  fortune— now  com- 
forting himself  with  some  pleasant  reflec- 
tion that,  even  in  his  own  humble  walk,  he 
had  assisted  at  some  of  the  greatest  tri- 
umphs of  the  French  armies.  Of  the 
future  he  spoke  with  the  easy  confidence  of 
one  who  felt  that  in  the  Emperor's  guid- 
ance there  could  be  full  trust — both  of  the 
cause  being  a  just  one,  and  the  result  vic- 
torious. A  perfect  type  of  his  class,  his 
bravery  was  only  to  be  equaled  by  the  im- 
plicit confidence  he  felt  in  his  leader.  That 
the  troops  of  any  country,  no  matter  how 
numerous  and  well  equipped,  could  resist  a 
French  army,  was  a  problem  he  could  not. 
even  entertain.  The  thing  was  too  absurd ; 
and  if  Napoleon  did  not  at  that  moment 
wield  undisputed  sway  over  the  whole  of 
Europe,  it  was  simply  owing  to  his  excess 
of  moderation,  and  the  willing  sacrifice  of 
his  ambition  to  his  greater  love  of  liberty. 

I  confess,  if  I  were  sometimes  tempted  to 
smile  at  the  simplicity  of  the  honest  soldier, 
I  was  more  often  carried  away  by  his  warm 
enthusiasm;  so  frequently,  too,  did  he  in- 


terweave in  his  narrative  the  mention  oi 
those  great  victories,  whose  fame  was  un- 
questionable, that,  in  my  assent  to  the 
facts,  I  went  a  great  way  in  my  concurrence 
with  the  inferences  he  deduced  from  them. 
And  thus  we  traveled  on  for  several  da 
in  advance  of  the  division,  regulating  the 
halting-places  and  the  billets,  according  to 
the  nature  and  facilities  of  the  country. 
The  towns  and  villages  in  our  "route"  pre- 
sented an  aspect  of  the  most  profound 
peace  ;  and  however  strange  it  seemed,  yet 
each  day  attested  how  completely  ignorant 
the  people  were  of  the  advance  of  that 
mighty  army  that  now,  in  four  vast  columns 
of  march,  was  pouring  its  thousands  into 
the  heart  of  Germany.  The  Prince-  of 
Baden  and  Darmstadt,  through  whose  ter- 
ritories we  passed,  had  not  as  yet  given  in 
their  adherence  to  the  Emperor ;  and  the 
inhabitants  of  those  countries  seemed  per- 
plexed and  confused  at  the  intentions  of 
their  powerful  neighbor,  whose  immense 
trains  of  ammunition,  and  enormous  parks 
of  artillery,  filled  every  road,  and  blocked 
up  every  village. 

At  length  we  reached  Manheim,  where  a 
portion  of  the  corps  of  Marechal  Davoust 
were  111  waiting  to  join  us  ;  and  there  we 
first  learned,  by  the  imperial  bulletin,  the 
object  of  the  war,  and  the  destination  of  the 
troops.  The  document  was  written  by  Na- 
poleon himself,  and  bore  abundant  evidence 
of  his  style.  After  the  usual  programme, 
attesting  his  sincere  love  for  peace,  and  his 
desire  for  the  cultivation  of  those  happy 
and  industrious  habits  which  make  nations 
more  prosperous  than  glorious,  it  went  on 
to  speak  of  the  great  coalition  between  Rus- 
sia and  Austria,  which,  in  union  with  the 
" per 'fide  Albion,"  had  no  other  thought 
nor  wush  than  the  abasement  and  dismem- 
berment of  France  "  But,  soldiers  !  "con- 
tinued he,  "  your  Emperor  is  in  the  midst 
of  you.  France  itself,  in  all  its  majesty,  is 
at  your  back,  and  you  are  but  the  advanced 
guard  of  a  mighty  people  !  There  are  fa- 
tigues and  privations,  battles  and  forced 
marches,  before  you  ;  but  let  them  oppose 
to  us .  every  resistance  they  are  able — we 
swear  never  to  cry  Halt  !  till  we  have 
planted  our  eagles  on  the  territory  of  our 
enemies  ! " 

We  halted  two  days  at  Manheim  to  per- 
mit some  regiments  to  come  up,  and  then 
marched  forward  to  Nordlmgen,  which 
place  the  Emperor  himself  had  only  quitted 
the  night  before.  Here  the  report  reached 
us  that  a  smart  affair  had  taken  place  the 
previous  morning,  between  an  Austrian 
division  and  a  portion  of  Ney's  advanced 
guard,  in  wdnch  Ave  had  rather  the  worst  of 


4^4 


CHARLES  LEVERS    WORKS. 


it,  and  had  lost  some  prisoners.  The  news 
excited  considerable  discontent  among  the 
troops,  and  increased  their  impatience  to 
move  forward  to  a  very  groat  degree. 
Meanwhile,  the  different  divisions  of  the 
French  army  were  converging  toward  Ulm, 
from  the  north,  south,  and  west ;  and  every 
hour  brought  them  nearer  to  that  devoted 
spot,  which  as  yet,  in  the  security  of  an 
enormous  garrison,  never  dreamed  of  sud- 
den attack. 

The  corps  of  Soult  was  now  pushed  for- 
ward to  Augsburg,  and  extended  by  a  line 
of  communication  to  Meiningen,  the  only 
channel  of  communication  which  remained 
opened  to  the  enemy.  The  quartier-gene- 
fal  of  the  Emperor  was  established  at  Zum- 
merhausen.  Ney  was  at  Guntzburg,  Mar- 
rnont  threatened  in  the  west,  and  Bernadottc, 
arriving  by  forced  marches  from  Prussia, 
hovered  in  the  north,  so  that  Ulm  was  in- 
vested in  every  direction  at  one  blow,  and 
that  in  a  space  of  time  almost  inconceiv- 
able. 

While  these  immense  combinations  were 
being  effected,  requiring  as  they  did  an 
enormous  extent  of  circumference  to  march 
over,  before  the  fortress  could  be  thus  in- 
closed, as  it  were,  within  our  grasp,  our 
astonishment  increased  daily  that  the 
Austrians  delayed  to  give  battle  ;  but,  as 
if  terrorstricken,  they  waited  on,  day  after 
day,  while  the  measures  for  their  ruin  were 
accomplishing.  At  length  a  desperate 
sortie  was  made  from  the  garrison,  and  a 
large  body  of  troops  escaping  by  the  left 
bank  of  the  Danube,  directed  their  course 
toward  Bohemia  ;  while  another  corps,  in 
the  opposite  direction,  forced  back  Ney's 
advanced  guard,  and  took  the  road  toward 
Nordlingen.  Having  directed  a  strong  de- 
tachment in  pursuit  of  this  latter  corps, 
which  was  commanded  by  the  Archduke 
Frederick  himself,  the  Emperor  closed  in 
around  Ulm,  and,  forcing  the  passage  of 
the  river  at  Elchingen,  prepared  for  the 
final  attack. 

While  these  dispositions  were  being  ef- 
fected, the  cavalry  brigade,  under  General 
DAuvergne,  consisting  of  three  regiments 
of  heavy  dragoons,  the  4th  Cuirassiers,  and 
8th  Hussars,  continued  to  descend  the  left 
bank  of  the  Danube,  in  pursuit  of  a  part 
of  the  Austrian  garrison  which  had  taken 
that  line  in  retreat  toward  Vienna.  We 
followed  as  far  as  Guntzburg  without 
coming  up  with  them,  and  there  the  news 
of  the  capitulation  of  Meiningen,  with  its 
garrison  of  six  thousand  men,  to  Marechal 
Soult,  reached  us,  along  with  an  order  to 
return  to  Ulm. 

Up  to  this  time  all  I   had   seen   of  war 


was  forced  marches,  bivouacs  hastily  broken 
up,  hurried  movements  in  advance  and  re- 
treat, the  fatigue  of  night  parties,  and  a 
continual  alert.  At  first  the  hourly  ex- 
pectation of  coming  in  sight  of  the  enemy 
kept  up  our  spirits  ;  but  when  day  aftei 
day  passed,  and  the  same  pursuit  followed, 
where  the  pursued  never  appeared,  the 
younger  soldiers  grumbled  loudly  at  fa- 
tigues undertaken  without  object,  and,  as 
it  seemed  to  them,  by  mistake. 

On  the  night  of  the  17th  of  October  we 
bivouacked  within  a  leauge  of  Ulm. 
Scarcely  were  the  pickets  formed  for  the 
night,  when  orders  came  for  the  whole 
brigade  to  assemble  under  arms  at  day- 
break. A  thousand  rumors  were  abroad  as 
to  the  meaning  of  the  order,  hut  none  came 
near  the  true  solution  ;  indeed,  the  dif- 
ficulty was  increased  by  the  added  com- 
mand, that  the  regiments  should  appear 
"  en  grande  tenue,"  or  in  full  dress.  I  saw 
that  my  old  commander  made  a  point  of 
keeping  me  in  suspense  as  to  the  morrow, 
and  affected,  as  much  as  possible,  an  -air 
of  indifference  on  the  subject.  He  had 
himself  arrived  late  from  Ulm,  where  he 
had  seen  the  Emperor,  and  amused  me  by 
mentioning  the  surprise  of  an  Austrian 
aide-de-camp,  who,  sent  to  deliver  a  let- 
ter, found  his  Majesty  sitting  with  bis 
boots  off,  and  stretched  before  a  bivouac 
fire. 

"Yes,"  said  Napoleon,  divining  at  once 
his  astonishment,  "it  is  even  so.  Your 
master  wished  to  remind  me  of  my  old 
trade,  and  I  hope  that  the  imperial  pur- 
ple has  not  made  me  forget  its  les- 
sons. " 

By  daybreak  the  next  morning  our  bri- 
gade was  in  the  saddle,  and  in  motion  to- 
ward the  qu artier-general — a  gently  rising 
ground,  surmounted  by  a  farm-house, 
where  the  Emperor  had  fixed  his  quarters. 
As  we  mounted  the  hill  we  came  in  sight 
of  the  whole  army  drawn  up  in  battle 
array.  They  stood  in  columns  of  divisions, 
with  artillery  and  cavalry  between  them, 
the  bands  of  the  various  regiments  in 
front. 

The  day  was  a  brilliant  one,  and  height- 
ened the  effect  of  the  scene.  Beyond  us 
lay  Ulm — silent  as  if  untenanted.  Not  a 
sentinel  appeared  on  the  walls  ;  the  very 
flag  had  disapjjeared  from  the  battlements. 
Our  surprise  was  great  at  this  ;  but  how 
was  it  increased  as  the  rumor  fled  from 
mouth  to  mouth — "Ulm  has  capitulated  : 
thirty-five  thousand  men  have  become 
prisoners  of  war  !  "  Ere  the  first  moments 
of  wonder  had  ceased,  the  staff  of  the  Em- 
peror was  seen  passing  along  the  line,  and 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


425 


finally  taking  up  its  station  on  the  hill, 
while  the  regimental  bands  burst  forth  into 
one  crash  the  most  spirit-stirring  and  ex- 
citing. The  proud  notes  swelled  and  filled 
the  air  as  the  sun,  bursting  forth  with  in- 
creased brilliancy,  tipped  every  helmet  and 
banner,  and  displayed  the  mighty  hosts  in 
all  the  splendor  of  their  pageantry.  Be- 
neath the  hill  stretched  a  vast  plain  in  the 
direction  of  Neuburg,  and  here  we  at  first 
supposed  it  was  the  Emperor's  intention 
to  review  the  troops  ;  but  a  very  differ- 
ent scene  was  destined  to  pass  on  that 
spot. 

Suddenly  a  single  gun  boomed  out,  and 
as  the  lazy  smoke  moved  heavily  along  the 
earth,  the  gates  of  Ulm  opened,  and  the 
head  of  an  Austrian  column  appeared. 
Not  with  beat  of  drum,  or  colors  flying, 
did  they  advance — but  slow  in  step,  with 
arms  reversed,  and  their  heads  downcast, 
they  marched  on  toward  the  mound  ;  de- 
filing beneath  this,  they  moved  into  the 
plain,  and,  corps  by  corps,  piled  their  arms, 
and  resumed  their  "route/'  the  white  line 
serpentining  along  the  vast  plain,  and 
stretching  away  into  the  dim  distance. 
Never  was  a  sight  so  sad  as  this  !  All  that 
war  can  present  of  suffering  and  bloodshed, 
all  that  the  battle-field  can  show  of  dead 
and  dying,  were  nothing  to  the  miserable 
abasement  of  those  thousands,  who  from 
daybreak  till  noon  poured  on  their  unceas- 
ing tide. 

On  the  hill  beside  the  Emperor  stood 
several  officers  in  white  uniform,  whose 
sad  faces  and  suffering  looks  attested  the 
misery  of  their  hearts.  "  Better  a  thousand 
deaths  than  such  humiliation ! "  was  the 
muttered  cry  of  every  man  about  me ; 
while  in  very  sorrow  at  such  a  scene,  the 
tears  coursed  down  the  hardy  cheeks  of 
many  a  bronzed  soldier,  and  some  turned 
away  their  heads,  unable  to  behold  the 
spectacle. 

Seventy  pieces  of  eanncn,  with  a  long 
tram  of  ammunition  wagons,  and  four 
thousand  cavalry  horses,  brought  up  the 
rear  of  this  melancholy  procession — the 
spoils  of  the  capitulation  of  Ulm.  Truly, 
if  that  day  were,  as  the  imperial  bulletin 
announced  it,  "one  of  the  most  glorious 
for  France,"'  it  was  also  the  darkest  in  the 
history  of  Austria — when  thirty-two  regi- 
ments of  infantry  and  fifteen  of  cavalry, 
with  artillery  and  siege  defenses  of  every 
kind,  laid  down  their  arms  and  surrendered 
themselves  prisoners.  Thus  in  fifteen  days 
from  the  passing  of  the  Rhine  was  the 
campaign  begun  and  ended,  and  the  Aus- 
trian Empire  prostrate  at  the  feet  of  Na- 
poleon. 


CHAPTER    XLIV. 


THE   CANTEEX. 


Tite  Emperor  returned  that  night  to 
Elchingen    accompanied    by   a    numerous 

staff,  among  whom  was  the  General  <!'Au- 
vergne.  I  remember  well  the  toilsome 
ascent  of  the  steep  town,  which,  built  on 
a  cliff'  above  the  Danube,  was  now  little 
better  than  a  heap  of  ruins,  from  the 
assault  of  Ney's  division  two  days  before. 
Scrambling  our  way  over  fallen  houses  and 
massive  fragments  of  masonry,  we  reached 
the  square  that  forms  the  highest  point  of 
the  city  ;  from  thence  we  looked  down 
upon  the  great  plain,  with  the  majestic 
Danube  winding  along  for  miles  ;  m  the 
valley  lay  Ulm — now  sad  and  silent  :  no 
watch-fires  blazed  along  its  deserted  ram- 
parts, and  through  its  open  gates  there 
streamed  the  idle  tide  of  soldiers  and  camp 
followers,  curious  to  see  the  place  which 
once  they  had  deemed  almost  impregnable. 
The  quartier- gen  oral  was  established  here, 
and  the  different  staffs  disposed  of  them- 
selves, as  well  as  they  were  able,  through- 
out the  houses  near.  Most  of  these, 
indeed,  had  been  deserted  by  their  inhabit- 
ants, whose  dread  of  the  French  was  a 
feeling  ministered  to  by  every  artifice  in 
the  power  of  the  Austrian  government. 
As  for  me,  I  was  but  a  young  campaigner, 
and  might  from  sheer  ignorance  have 
passed  my  night  in  the  open  air,  when  by 
good  fortune  I  caught  sight  of  my  old 
companion,  Pioche,  hurrying  along  a  nar- 
row street,  carrying  a  basket  well  stored 
with  bottles  on  his  arm. 

"  Ah,  mon  lieutenant,  you  here,  and  not 
supped  yet,  I'd  wager  a  crown  ? " 

"You'd  win  it,  too,  Pioche;  nor  do  I 
see  very  great  chance  of  my  doing  so." 

"Come  along  with  me,  sir;  Mademoi- 
selle Minette  has  just  opened  her  canteen 
in  the  flower-market — such  it  was  once, 
they  tell  me — but  there  is  little  odor  left 
there  now,  save  such  as  contract  powder 
gives.  But  no  matter,  you'll  have  a  roast 
capon  and  sausages,  and  some  of  the  Aus- 
trian wine  ;  I  have  just  secured  half  a  dozen 
bottles  here." 

I  need  scarcely  say  that  this  Avas  an  invi- 
tation there  was  no  declining,  and  I  joined 
the  corporal  at  once,  and  hurried  on  to 
mademoiselle's  quarters.  We  had  not  pro- 
ceeded far,  when  the  noise  of  voices  speak- 
ing and  singing  in  a  loud  tone  announced 
that  we  were  approaching  the  canteen. 

"You  hear  them,  mon  lieutenant,"  said 
Pioche,  with  a  look  of  delight,  "you  hear 
the  rogues-     Par  St.  Jacques,  they  know 


*26 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


where  to  make  themselves  merry.  Good 
wine  for  drinking,  lodging  for  nothing,  fire 
for  the  trouble  of  lighting  it,  are  brave 
inducements  to  enjoy  life." 

"  But  it's  a,  canteen  ;  surely  mademoi- 
selle is  paid  ?  " 

"Not  the  first  night  of  a  campaign,  I 
suppose,"  said  he,  with  a  voice  of  rebuke. 
"  Par  bleu!  that  would  he  a  pretty  affair  ! 
No,  no  ;  eacli  man  brings  what  he  can 
find.,  drinks  what  lie  is  able,  and  leaves  the 
rest — which,  after  all,  is  a  very  fair  stock 
in  trade  to  begin  with  ;  and  so  now,  mon 
lieutenant,  to  commence  operations  regu- 
larly, just  sling  this  ham  on  your  sabre 
over  your  shoulder,  and  take  this  turkey 
carelessly  in  your  hand — that's  it— here  we 
are — follow  me." 

Passing  through  an  arched  gateway,  we 
entered  a  little  court-yard,  where  several 
horses  were  picketed,  the  ground  about 
them  being  strewn  with  straw  knee-deep  ; 
cavalry  saddles,  holsters,  and  sheep-skins 
lay  confusedly  on  every  side,  along  with 
sabres  and  carbines  ;  a  great  lamp,  detached 
from  its  position  over  the  street  entrance, 
was  suspended  from  a  lance  out  of  a  win- 
dow, and  threw  its  light  over  the  scene. 
Stepping  cautiously  through  this  chaotic 
heap,  we  reached  a  glass  door,  from  within 
which  the  riotous  sounds  were  most  audi- 
bly issuing.  Pioche  pushed  it  open,  and 
we  entered  a  large  room,  full  fifty  feet 
in  length,  at  one  end  of  which,  under  a 
species  of  canopy,  formed  by  two  old  regi- 
mental colors,  sat  Mademoiselle  Mmette — 
for  so  I  guessed  to  be  a  very  pretty  bru- 
nette, with  a  most  decidedly  Parisian  look 
about  her  air  and  toilet  ;  a  table,  covered 
with  a  snow-white  napkin,  was  in  front 
of  her,  on  which  lay  a  large  bouquet 
and  an  open  book,  in  which  she  appear- 
ed to  be  writing  as  we  came  in.  The 
room  on  either  side  was  filled  by  small 
tallies,  around  which  sat  parties  drinking, 
card-playing,  singing,  or  quarreling,  as  it 
might  be,  with  a  degree  of  energy  and  vo- 
ciferation only  campaigning  can  give  an 
idea  of. 

The  first  thing  which  surprised  me  was, 
that  all  ranks  in  the  service  seemed  confus- 
edly mixed  up  together,  there  being  no 
distinction  of  class  whatever  ;  captains  and 
corporals,  sergeants,  lieutenants,  colonels, 
and  tambour-majors,  were  inextricably 
commingled,  hob-nobbing,  hand-shaking, 
and  even  kissing  in  turn  ;  that  most  frater- 
nal and  familiar  "Tu"of  dearest  friend- 
ship being  heard  on  every  side. 

Resisting  a  hundred  invitations  to  join 
some  party  or  other  as  he  passed  up  the 
room,  Pioche  led  me  forward  toward  Made- 


moiselle Minette,  to  present  me  in  due 
form  ere  1  took  my  place. 

The  honest  corporal,  who  would  have 
charged  ;i  square  without  blinking,  seemed 
actually  to  tremble  as  he  came  near  the 
pretty  vivandiere,  and  when,  with  a  roguish 
i  winkle  of  her  dark  eye,  and  a  half  smile 
on  her  saucy  lip,  she  said,  "Alt!  cest  toi, 
gros  Pioche?"1  the  poor  fellow  could  only 
mutter  a  "  Oui,  mademoiselle,"  in  a  voice 
scarce  loud  enough  to  be  heard. 

"And,  monsieur,"  said  she,  "whom 
I  have  the  honor  to  see  ?" 

"Is  my  lieutenant,  mademoiselle  ;  or  he 
is  aide-de-camp  of  my  general,  which  conies 
to  the  same  thing." 

With  a  few  words  of  gracious  civility, 
well  and  neatly  expressed,  mademoiselle 
welcomed  me  to  the  canteen,  which,  she 
said,  had  often  been  graced  by  the  presence 
of  General  d'Auvergne  himself. 

".Yes,  by  St.  Denis  !  "  cried  Pioche,  with 
energy,  "  Prince  Murat,  and  Marechal  Da- 
voust,  too,  have  been  here."  Dropping  his 
voice  to  a  whisper,  he  added  something 
that  called  a  faint  blush  to  mademoiselle's 
cheek  as  she  replied, 

"  You  think  so,  do  you  ?"  Then,  turn- 
ing to  me,  asked  if  I  were  not  disposed  to 
sup. 

"Yes,  that  he  is,"  interrupted  Pioche, 
"and  here  is  the  materiel;"  with  which 
he  displayed  his  pannier  of  bottles,  and 
pointed  to  the  spoils  which,  following  his 
directions,  I  carried  in  my  hands.  The 
corporal  having  dispatched  the  fowls  to  the 
kitchen,  proceeded  to  arrange  a  little  table 
at  a  short  distance  from  where  mademoiselle 
sat  —  an  arrangement,  1  could  perceive, 
which  called  forth  some  rather  angry  looks 
from  those  around  the  room,  and  I  could 
overhear  more  than  one  muttered  Sacre ! 
as  to  the  ambitious  pretension  of  the  "gros 
Pioche." 

He  himself  paid  little,  if  any,  attention 
to  these  signs  of  discontent,  but  seemed 
wholly  occupied  in  perfecting  the  table 
arrangements,  which  he  did  wdth  the  skill 
and  dispatch  of  a  tavern  waiter. 

"  Here,  mon  lieutenant,  this  is  your 
place,"  said  he,  with  a  bow,  as  he  placed  a 
chair  for  me  at  the  head  of  the  board  ;  and 
then,  with  a  polite  obeisance  to  the  lady, 
he  added,  "Avec permission,  mademoiselle,^ 
and  took  his  own  seat  at  the  side. 

A  very  appetizing  dish  made  its  appear- 
ance at  this  moment,  and  notwithstanding 
my  curiosity  to  watch  the  proceedings  of 
the  party,  and  my  admiration  for  made- 
moiselle herself,  hunger  carried  the  clay, 
and  I  was  soon  too  deeply  engaged  in  the 
discussion  of  my  supper  to  pay  much  atten- 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


421 


tion  to  aught  else.  It  was  just  then,  that, 
forgetting  where  I  was,  and  unmindful 
that  I  was  not  enjoying  the  regular  fare  of 
an  inn,  I  called  out,  as  if  to  the  waiter,  for 
"bread.."  A  roar  of  laughter  ran  through 
the  room  at  my  mistake,  when  a  dark- 
whiskered  little  fellow,  in  an  undress  frock, 
stuck  Iris  small  sword  into  a  loaf,  and 
handed  it  to  me  from  the  table  where  he  sat. 

There  was  something  in  the  act  which 
rather  puzzled  me,  and  might  have  con- 
tinued longer  to  do  so,  had  not,  Pioche 
whispered  me  in  a  low  voice — "  Take  it, 
take  it." 

I  reached  out  my  hand  for  the  purpose, 
when,  just  as  I  had  caught  the  loaf,  with 
a  slight  motion  of  his  wrist  he  disengaged 
the  point  of  the  weapon,  and  gave  me  a 
scratch  on  the  back  of  my  hand.  The 
gesture  I  made  called  forth  a  renewed  peal 
of  laughing,  and  I  now  pei'ceived,  from 
the  little  man's  triumphant  look  at  his 
companions,  that  the  whole  thing  was  in- 
tended as  an  insult.  Eesolving,  however, 
to  go  quietly  in  the  matter,  I  held  out  my 
hand  when  it  was  still  bleeding,  and  said — 
"  You  perceive,  sir." 

"Ah,  an  accident,  morbleu,"  said  he, 
with  a  careless  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  and 
a  half  leer  of  impertinent  indifference. 

"  So  is  this,  also,"  replied  I,  as,  spring- 
ing up,  I  seized  the  sword  he  Was  returning 
to  its  scabbard,  and  smashed  the  blade 
across  my  knee. 

"Well  done,  well  done!"''  cried  twenty 
voices  in  a  breath,  while  the  whole  room 
rose  in  a  confused  manner  to  take  one  side 
or  other  in  the  contest,  several  crowding 
around  the  little  man,  whose  voice  had 
suddenly  lost  its  tone  of  easy  impertinence, 
and  was  now  heard  swearing  away,  with 
the  most  guttural  intonation. 

"  What  kind  of  a  swordsman  are  you  ?" 
whispered  Pioche  in  my  ear. 

"Sufficiently  expert  to  care  little  for  an 
enemy  of  his  caliber." 

"  Ah,  you  don't  know  that,"  replied  he, 
"it's  Francois,  the  maltre  d'armes  of  the 
Fourth." 

"You  must  not  fight  him,  monsieur," 
said  Mademoiselle,  as  she  laid  her  hand  on 
mine,  and  looked  up  into  my  face  with  a 
most  expressive  glance. 

"They  are  waiting  for  you  without,  mon 
lieutenant,"  said  an  old  sergeant-major, 
touching  his  cap  .as  he  spoke. 

"  Come  along,"  said  Pioche,  with  a 
deeply  muttered  oath  ;  "  and,  by  the  blood 
of  St.  Louis,  it  shall  be  the  last  time 
Maitre  Francois  shows  his  skill  in  fence, 
if  I  cost  them  -the  fire  of  a  platoon  to- 
morrow. " 


I  was  hurried  along  by  the  crowd  to  t  fie 
Court,  a  hundred  different  advisers  whis- 
pering their  various  counsels  in  my  ear-  m 

1    Weill. 

"Take  care  of  his  lunge  in  tierce — mind 
that,"  cried  one. 

"Push  him  outside  the  arm — outside, 
remember — take  my  advice,  young  man," 
said  an  old  sous-officier ;  "cloa  on  him  a< 

once,  take  Ins  point  where  he  gives  it,  and 
make  sure  of  your  own  weapon." 

"  No  bad  plan  either,"  cried  two  or  three. 

"  Monsieur  Auguste  is  right  :  Francois 
can't  bear  the  cold  steel — and  if  he  sees  it 
close,  he  loses  his  head  altogether." 

The  court-yard  was  already  cleared  for 
action — the  horses  picketed  in  one  corner, 
the  straw  removed,  and  a  blaze  of  li.ht 
from  all  the  lamps  and  candles  of  the  sup- 
per-room showed  the  ground  as  clearly  as 
at  noonday.  While  my  antagonist  was 
taking  off  his  coat  and  vest,  an  operation  I 
did  not  choose  to  imitate,  I  took  a  rapid 
survey  of  the  scene,  and.  notwithstanding 
the  rush  of  advisers  around  me,  was  suffi- 
ciently collected  to  decide  on  my  mode  of 
acting. 

"Come,  mon  lieutenant,  off  with  your 
frock,"  said  an  officer  at  my  side  ;  "  even 
if  you  don't  care  for  the  advantage  of  a  free 
sword-arm,  those  fellows  yonder  won't  be- 
lieve it  all  fair,  if  you  do  not  strip." 

"  Yes,  yes,  take  it  off,"  said  a  fellow  in 
the  crowd,  "your  fine  epaulettes  may  as 
well  escape  tarnishing  ,  and  that  new  coat, 
too,  will  be  all  the  better  without  a  hole  in 
it." 

I  hastily  threw  off  my  coat  and  waist- 
coat, when  the  crowd  fell  hack,  and  the 
maltre  d'armes,  advancing  into  the  open 
space  with  a  light  and  nimble*  step,  cried 
out,  "  En  garde,  monsieur. '"  I  stood  my 
ground,  and  crossed  my  sword  with  his. 

For  a  few  seconds  I  contented  myself  with 
merely  observing  my  adversary,  who  han- 
dled his  weapon  not  only  with  all  the  skill 
of  an  accomplished  swordsman,  but  with  a 
dexterity  that  showed  me  he  was  playing 
off  his  art  before  his  companions. 

As  if  to  measure  his  distance,  he  made 
two  or  three  slight  passes  over  the  guard  of 
my  sword,  and  then  grating  his  blade 
against  mine  with  that  peculiar  motion 
which  bodes  attack,  he  fixed  his  eyes  on 
mine,  to  draw  off  my  attention  from  his  in- 
tended thrust.  The  cjuickness  and  facility 
with  which  his  weapon  changed  from  side 
to  side  of  mine,  the  easy  motion  of  his 
wrist,  and  the  rigid  firmness  of  his  arm,  all 
showed  me  I  was  no  match  for  him — al- 
though one  of  the  best  of  my  day  at  the 
military  school — and  I  did  not  venture  to 


45S 


Cll  \RLES  LEVERS    WORKS. 


proceed  beyond  mere  defense.  He  saw  this, 
and  by  many  a  trick  endeavored  to  induce 
iin  attack — now  dropping  his  point  care- 
lessly, to  address  a  monosyllable  to  a  friend 
near— now  throwing  open  his  guard,  as  if 
from  negligence.  At  length,  as  if  tired 
with  waiting,  he  called  out  : 

"  Que  cela  finisse"  and  rushed  in  on 
me. 

The  rapidity  of  the  assault,  for  a  second 
or  sc,  completely  overcame  me,  and  though 
I  defended  myself  mechanically.  I  could 
neither  follow  his  weapon  with  my  eye,  nor 
anticipate  his  intended  thrust.  Twice,  his 
point  touched  my  sword  arm  above  the 
wrist,  and  by  a  slight  wound  there, 
saved  my  lungs  from  being  pierced.  At 
last,  after  a  desperate  rally,  in  which  he 
broke  in  on  my  guard,  he  made  a  fearful 
lunge  at  my  chest;  I  bent  forward  and  re- 
ceived his  blade  in  the  muscles  of  my  back 
— when,  with  a  wheel  round,  I  smashed  the 
sword  in  me,  and  buried  my  own,  up  to  the 
hilt,  in  his  body.  He  fell,  bathed  in  blood  ; 
and  I,  staggering  backward,  was  caught  in 
Pioche's arms,  at  the  moment  when  all  con- 
sciousness was  fast  leaving  me. 

A  few  minutes  after  I  came  to  myself, 
and  found  that  I  was  lying  on  a  heap  of 
straw  in  the  yard,  while  two  regimental 
surgeons  wTere  most  industriously  engaged 
in  trying  to  stop  the  hemorrhage  of  my 
wounds. 

With  little  interest  in  my  own  fate,  I 
could  not  help  feeling  anxious  about  my 
antagonist.  They  shook  their  heads  mourn- 
fully in  reply  to  my  question,  and  desired 
me  to  be  as  calm  as  possible,  for  my  life 
hung  on  a  very  thread.  The  dressing  com- 
pleted, I  was  carried  into  the  house,  and 
laid  on  a  bed  in  a  small,  neat-looking 
chamber,  which  I  heard,  as  they  carried 
me  along,  mademoiselle  had  kindly  placed 
at  my  disposal.  She  herself  assisted  to 
place  the  pillow  beneath  my  head,  and  then 
with  noiseless  gesture  closed  the  curtains 
of  the  window,  and  took  her  seat  at  the  bed- 
side. 

The  moment  the  others  had  left  the 
room,  I  turned  to  ask  for  the  maitre 
cVarmes.  But  she  could  only  say  that  his 
companions  of  the  Fourth  had  carried  him 
away  to  the  ambulance,  refusing  all  offers 
of  aid,  except  from  the  surgeons  of  their 
own  corps. 

"They  say,"  added  she,  with  a  naive 
simplicity,  "that  Francois  is  not  made  like 
other  folk,  and  that  the  only  doctors  who 
understand  him  are  in  the  Fourth  Regi- 
ment. However  that  may  be,  it  will  puzzle 
them  sadly  this  time — you  have  given  him 
his  coup  de  conge." 


"I  hope  not,  sincerely,''  said  I,  with  a 
shudder. 

'"'And  why  not,"  cried  Mademoiselle,  in 
astonishment.  "Is  it  not  a  good  service 
you  render  to  the  whole  brigade  :'  Would 
not  the  division  be  all  the  happier  if  such 
as  he,  and  Pichot,  and  the  rest  of  them — " 
"  Pichot  Amedee  Pichot  ?  " 
"Yes,  Amedee  Pichot,  to  be  sure.  But 
what's  that  knocking  outside  ?  Ah,  there's 
Pioehe  at  the  window  !  " 

Mademoiselle  arose  and  walked  toward 
the  door,  but  before  she  reached  it,  it  was 
opened,  and  General  d'Auvergne  entered  the 
room. 

"  Is  he  here  ?"  asked  he,  in  a  low  voice. 
"Yes,  general,"  said  Mademoiselle,  with 
a  curtsey,  as  she  placed  the  chair  for  him  to 
sit  down.  "  He  is  much  better — I'll  wait 
outside  till  you  want  me,"  added  she,  as 
she  left  the  room  and  closed  the  door. 

"  Come,  come,  my  boy,"  said  the  kind 
old  man,  as  he  took  my  hand  in  his,  "don't 
give  way  thus.  I  have  made  many  inquiries 
about  this  affair,  and  they  all  tend  to  ex- 
culpate you.  This  fellow,  Francois,  is  the 
mauvaise  tete  of  the  regiment,  and  I  only 
wish  his  chastisement  had  come  from  some 
other  hand  than  yours." 

"Will  he  live,  general  ?"  asked  I,  with 
a  smothering  fullness  in  my  throat  as  I 
uttered  the  words. 

"  Not  if  he  be  mortal,  I  believe.  The 
sword  pierced  his  chest  from  side  to  side." 
I  groaned  heavily  as  I  heard  these  words  ; 
and  burying  my  head  beneath  the  clothes, 
became  absorbed  in  my  grief.  What  would 
I  not  have  endured  then  of  insult  and  con- 
tumely, rather  than  suffer  the  terrible  load 
upon  my  conscience  of  a  fellow-creature's 
blood — shed  in  passion  and  revenge.  How 
willingly  would  I  have  accepted  the  most 
despised  position  among  men  to  be  void  of 
this  crime. 

"  It  matters  not,"  cried  I,  in  my  despair 
— "it  matters  not  how  I  guide  my  path, 
misfortunes  beset  me  at  every  turn  of  the 
way — " 

"  Speak  not  thus,"  said  the  General, 
sternly.  "  The  career  you  have  embarked 
in  is  a  stormy  and  a  rough  one.  Other  men 
have  fared  worse  than  you  have  in  it — and 
without  repining  too.  You  knew  of  one 
such  yourself,  who,  in  all  the  saddest  be- 
reavements of  his  hopes,  cherished  a  sol- 
dier's heart  and  a  soldier's  courage." 

The  allusion  to  my  poor  friend,  Charles 
de  Meudon,  brought  the  tears  to  my  eyes, 
and  I  felt,  that  all  my  sufferings  were  little 
compared  with  his. 

"  Let  your  first  care  be  to  get  well  as  soon 
as  you  can  .  happily  your  name  may  escape 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


420 


the  Emperor's  notice  in  this  affair,  by  ap- 
pearing in  (lie  list  of  wounded— our  friend 
the  maitre  d'arrnes  is  not  likely  to  discover 
on  you.     The  campaign  is  begun,  however, 

and  you  must  try  to  take  your  share  of  it. 
The  Emperor's  staff  starts  for  Munich  to- 
morrow. I  must  accompany  them — hut  I 
leave  you  in  good  hands  here  ;  and  this  de- 
tachment will  occupy  Elchingen  at  least 
ten  days  longer." 

Scarcely  had  the  general  left  me  when 
mademoiselle  re-entered  the  room. 

"So,  monsieur,"  said  she,  smiling  arch- 
ly,  "you  have  been  left  in  my  care,  it 
seems.  Morbleu  !  it's  well  the  vivandiere 
of  the  regiment  is  not  a  prude,  or  I  should 
scarcely  know  how  to  act.  Well,  well,  one 
can  only  do  one's  best.  And  now,  shall  I 
read  for  you,  or  shall  I  leave  you  quiet  for 
an  hour  or  two  ?  " 

"Just  so,  leave  him  alone  for  a  little 
while,"  said  a  gruff  voice  from  the  end  of 
the  bed,  at  the  same  time  that  the  huge 
beard  and  red  moustache  of  Pioche  appear- 
ed peeping  above  the  curtain. 

"Is  he  not  stupid,  that  great  animal  of 
a  cuirassier  ?  "  said  mademoiselle,  starting 
at  the  voice  so  unexpectedly  heard.  (ii 
say,  mon  caporal,  right  face— march.  Do 
you  hear,  sir  ?  You've  got  the  feuille  de 
route.     What  do  you  stay  for  ?  " 

"Ah,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  poor  fel- 
low, as  he  smoothed  down  his  hair  on  his 
forehead,  and  looked  the  very  impersona- 
tion of  sheepish  admiration. 

"  Well  ? "  replied  she,  as  if  not  under- 
standing his  appeal  to  her  feelings  — 
"  well  ?  " 

A  look  of  total  embarrassment,  an  ex- 
pression of  complete  bewilderment,  was  his 
only  reply  ;  while  his  eyes  wandered  round 
the  room  till  they  met  mine,  and  then,  as  if 
suddenly  conscious  that  a  third  party  was 
present,  he  blushed  deeply  and  said  : 

"  Too  true,  mon  lieutenant,  she  does  with 
me  what  she  will." 

"Don't  believe  him,  monsieur,"  inter- 
posed she,  quickly.  "  I  told  him  to  get 
knocked  on  the  head  a  dozen  times,  and  he's 
never  done  so." 

"I  would  though,  and  right  soon  too,  if 
you  were  only  in  earnest,"  said  he,  with  a 
vehemence  that  bespoke  the  truth  of  the 
assertion. 

"There,  there,"  said  she,  with  a  smile, 
as  she  held  out  her  hand  to  him,  "we  are 
friends." 

The  poor  fellow  pressed  it  to  his  lips  with 
the  respectful  devotion  of  a  Bayard  ;  and 
with  a  muttered  "This  evening,"  left  the 
room. 

"It  is  no  small  triumph,  mademoiselle," 


said  I,  "  that  you  have  inspired  such  a  pas- 
sion in  the  hardy  breasl  of  tin'  cuirassier." 
A  saucy  shake  <>f  the  head,  as  though  she 
did  nut  like  the  compliment,  was  the  only 
reply.  She  benl  her  head  down  uvea-  her 
work,  and  seemed  absorbed  in  its  details; 
while  I,  reverting  to  my  own  cares,  became 
silent  also. 

"And  so,  monsieur,"  said  3he,  after  a 
long  pause — "and  so  you  deem  tin-  con- 
quest of  mine  a  very  wonderful  thing  ?" 

"You  mistake  me,"'  said  I,  eagerly — 
"you  mistake  me  much.  My  surprise  was 
rather  that  one  like  Pioche,  good-hearted, 
simple   fellow  he  is,  should  po  u   re- 

finement of  feeling — " 

"A  clever  flank  movement  of  yours, 
lieutenant,"  interposed  she,  with  a  pleasant 
laugh;  "and  I'll  not  attack  you  again. 
And,  after  all,  I  am  a  little  proud  of  my 
conquest. " 

"The  confession  is  a  flattering  one,  from 
one  who  doubtless  has  had  a  great  many  to 
boast  of." 

"A  great  many,  indeed !"  replied  she, 
naively.  "So  many,  that  I  can*;  reckon 
them— not  to  boast  of,  however,  as  you 
term  it.  Parhleu  !  some  of  them  had  lit- 
tle of  that — But  here  comes  the  doctor,  and 
I  must  not  let  him  see  us  talking.  Ma  foi, 
they  little  think,  when  their  backs  are 
turned,  how  seldom  we  mind  their  direc- 
tions." 

The  surgeon's  visit  was  a  matter  of  a  few 
seconds  ;  he  contented  himself  with  feeling 
my  pulse  and  reiterating  his  advice  as  to 
quiet. 

"You  have  got  the  best  nurse  in  the 
army,  monsieur,"  said  he,  as  lie  took  his 
leave  ;  "I  have  only  one  caution  to  give 
you — take  care,  if  an  affection  of  the  heart 
be  not  a  worse  affair  than  a  thrust  of  a 
small  sword.  I  have  known  such  a  termi- 
nation of  an  dlness  before  now." 

Mademoiselle  made  no  reply  save  an  arch 
look  of  half  anger,  and  left  the  room  ;  and 
I,  wearied  and  exhausted,  sank  into  a 
heavy  slumber. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

THE    "VIVANDIERE    OF    TnF    F07RTH." 

For  three  entire  Avecks  my  wound  con- 
fined me  to  the  limits  of  my  chamber  ;  and 
yet,  were  it  not  for  my  impatience  to  be  up 
and  stirring,  my  life  was  not  devoid  of 
happiness. 

Every  movement  of  the  army,  in  its  most 
minute  detail,  was  daily  reported  to  me  by 
Mademoiselle   Minette.     The  bulletins   of 


4bO 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


the  Emperor,  the  promotions,  the  on  dits 
of  the  bivouac  and  the  march,  brought  l>\ 
the  various  battalions  as  they  moved  on 
toward  the  cist,  were  all  related  by  her, 
with  such  knowledge  of  military  phrase 
and  soldiers'  style,  as  to  amuse  me.  equally 
by  her  manner  as  by  what  she  told. 

*  The  cuirassiers  marched  soon  after  I  re- 
ceived my  wound,  and,  though  attached  to 
the  corps,  she  remained  behind  at  Elchin- 
gen,  having  pledged  herself,  as  she  said,  to 
the  general  to  restore  me  safe  and  sound 
before  she  left  me.  The  little  window  be- 
side my  bed  offered  a  widely-extended  view 
over  the  great  plain  beneath,  and  there  I 
have  sat  the  entire  day,  watching  the  col- 
umns of  cavalry  and  infantry  as  they  poured 
along,  seemingly  without  ceasing,  toward 
the  lower  Danube  Sometimes  the  faint 
sounds  of  the  soldiers'  songs  would  reach 
me — the  rude  chorus  of  a  regiment  timing 
their  step  to  some  warrior's  chant — and  set 
my  heart  a  beating  to  be  with  them  once 
more.  Sometimes  my  eye  would  rest  upon 
the  slow  train  of  wagons,  surmounted 
with  a  white  flag,  that  wound  their  way 
heavily  in  the  rear,  and  my  spirit  sank  as 
I  thought  over  the  poor  wounded  fellows 
that  were  thus  borne  onward  with  the  tide 
of  war,  as  the  crushed  serpent  trails  his 
wounded  folds  behind  him. 

Mademoiselle  seldom  left  me.  Seated  at 
her  work,  often  for  hours  without  speaking, 
she  would  follow  the  tram  of  her  own 
thoughts,  and  when  by  chance  she  gave  a 
passing  glance  through  the  window  at  the 
scene  beneath,  some  single  word  would 
escape  her,  as  to  the  regiments  or  their 
officers,  few  of  which  were  unknown  to  her, 
at  least  by  reputation. 

I  could  not  but  mark  that,  within  the 
last  twelve  or  fourteen  days,  she  seemed 
more  sad  and  depressed  than  before — the 
lively  gayety  of  her  character  had  given 
place  to  a  meek  and  suffering  melancholy, 
which  I  could  not  help  attributing  to  the 
circumstances  in  which  she  was  placed, 
away  from  all  her  ordinary  pursuits,  and 
the  companions  of  her  daily  life.  I  hinted 
as  much  one  day,  and  was  about  to  insist 
on  her  leaving  me,  when  she  suddenly  in- 
terrupted me,  saying 

"  It  is  all  true.  I  am  sad,  and  know  not 
why — for  I  never  felt  happier  ;  yet,  if  you 
wished  me  to  be  gay,  as  I  used  to  be,  I 
could  not  for  the  world.  It  is  not  because 
I  am  far  from  those  I  have  learned  to  look 
on  as  my  brothers.  Not  so — my  changeful 
fortune  has  often  placed  me  thus.  Per- 
haps it's  your  fault,  mon  lieutenant,"  said 
she,  suddenly  turning  her  eyes  full  upon 
me. 


"Mine,  Minette — mine!"  said  I,  in 
amazement. 

She  blushed  deeply,  and  held  down  her 
head,  while  her  bosom  heaved  several  times 
convulsively ;  and  then,  while  a  deathly 
paleness  spread  over  her  cheek,  she  said,  in 
a  low,  broken  voice, 

"Perhaps  it  is  because  I  am  an  orphan, 
and  never  knew  what  it  was  to  have  those 
i  whose  dispositions  I  should  imitate,  and 
|  whose  tastes  I  should  study;  but,  some- 
i  how,  I  feel  even  as  though  I  could  not 
help  becoming  like  those  I  am  near  to,  fol- 
lowing them — ay,  and  outstripping  them — 
in  all  their  likings  and  dislikings." 

"  And  so,  as  you  seem  sad  and  sorrowful, 
it  is  more  than  probable  that  you  took  the 
color  of  my  thoughts.  I  should  feel  sorry, 
Minette,  to  think  it  were  thus — I  should  ill 
repay  all  your  kindness  to  me — I  must  try 
and  wear  a  happier  countenance.  " 

';  Do  so — and  mine  will  soon  reflect  it," 
said  she,  laughing;  "but,  perhaps,  you 
have  cause  for  sorrow,"  added  she,  as  she 
stole  a  glance  at  me  beneath  her  eyelashes. 

"You  know,  Minette,  that  I  am  an 
orphan  like  yourself,"  said  I,  half  evading 
the  question. 

"Ah!"  cried  she,  passionately,  "if  I 
had  been  a  man,  I  should  like  to  be  such  a 
one  as  Murat  there.  See  how  his  black 
eyes  sparkle,  and  his  proud  lip  curls,  when 
the  roll  of  artillery,  or  the  clattering  of  a 
platoon  is  heard —  how  his  whole  soul  is  in 
the  fight !  I  remember  once — it  was  at 
the  Iser — his  brigade  was  stationed  beneath 
the  hill,  and  had  no  orders  to  move  for- 
ward for  several  hours — he  used  to  get  off 
his  horse,  and  walk  about,  and  endeavor, 
by  pushing  the  smoke  away  thus  with  his 
hand,  and  almost  kneeling  to  the  ground, 
to  catch  a  view  of  the  battle,  and  then  he 
would  spring  into  the  saddle,  and,  for  sheer 
passion,  dash  the  spurs  into  his  horse's 
flanks,  till  he  reared  and  plunged  again. 
I  watched  him  thus  for  hours.  I  loved  to 
look  on  him,  chafing  and  fretting,  like  his 
own  mettled  charger,  he  was  so  hand- 
some ! " 

"  'A  drink,  Minette  !  Something  to  cool 
my  lips,  for  Heaven's  sake,'  said  he  at  last, 
as  he  saw  me  standing  near  him.  I  filled 
the  little  cup  you  see  here  with  wine,  and 
handed  it  to  him.  Scarcely  had  he  raised 
it  to  his  lips,  when  an  aide-de-camp  gal- 
loped up,  and  whispered  some  words  in 
haste. 

"  '  Ha,  ha  ! '  cried  he,  with  a  shout  of 
joy,  '  they  want  us,  then — the  squadrons 
will  advance  by  sections — and  charge  ! — 
charge  ! ' — and  with  that  he  flung  the  gob- 
let from  him  to  the  ground,  and  when  I 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


431 


took  it  up,  I  found  that  with  the  grasp  of 
his  strong  fingers  he  had  crushed  it  nearly 
together.  See  here.  I  never  would  let  it 
be  changed.  It  is  just  as  at  the  time  lie 
clasped  it,  and  I  kept  it  as  a  souvenir  of 
the  prince.'5  She  look  from  a  little  shelf 
the  cup,  as  she  spoke,  and  held  it  up  before 
me,  with  the  devoted  admiration  with 
which  some  worshipper  would  regard  a 
holy  relic.  /'And  that,"  said  Minette,  as 
she  pressed  to  her  lips  a  faded  cockade, 
whose  timeworn  tints  still  showed  the  tri- 
colored  emblems  of  the  Republic — "  that 
do  I  value  above  the  cross  of  the  Legion  it- 
self." 

"Whose  was  it,  Minette?  Some  brave 
soldier's,  I'm  sure." 

"And  you  may  be  sure.  That  was  the 
cockade  of  Le  Premier  Grenadier  de  la 
France — La  Tour  d'Auvergne — the  cousin 
cf  your  own  general."  Seeing  that  I  had 
not  heard  before  of  him,  she  paused  for  a 
few  seconds  in  amazement,  and  then  mut- 
tered— "  A  brave  school  to  train  the  youth 
of  France  it  must  be,  where  the  name  of 
La  Tour  d'Auvergne  was  never  mentioned." 

Having  thus  vented  her  indignation,  she 
proceeded  to  tell  me  of  her  hero,  who, 
though  descended  from  one  of  the  most 
distinguished  families  of  France,  yet  per- 
sisted in  carrying  his  musket  in  the  ranks 
of  the  republican  army — never  attaining  to 
a  higher  grade,  nor  known  by  any  other 
title  than  the  "Premier  Grenadier  de  la 
France."  Foremost  in  every  post  of  dan- 
ger— the  volunteer  at  every  emergency  of 
more  than  ordinary  peril — he  refused  every 
proffer  of  advancement,  and  lived  among 
his  comrades  the  simple  life  of  a  soldier. 

"  He  fell  at  Neuburg,"said  Mademoiselle, 
"scarce  a  day's  march  from  here  ;  they 
buried  him  on  the  field,  and  placed  him 
dead,  as  he  had  been  ever  while  living,  with 
his  face  'toward  the  enemy.  And  you 
never  heard  of  him— juste  Oieli  it  is  al- 
most incredible.  You  never  brigaded  with 
the  Forty-fifth  of  the  line — that's  certain." 

"And  why  so  ?"  ' 

"  Because  they  call  his  name  at  every 
parade  muster  as  though  he  were  still  alive 
and  well.  The  first  man  called  is  La  Tour 
d'Auvergne,  and  the  first  soldier  answers, 
'  Mort  stir  le  champ  de  bataille.'  That's  a 
prouder  monument  than  your  statues  and 
tombstones.     Is  it  not  ? "' 

"Indeed  it  is,"  said  I,  to  whom  the  an- 
ecdote was  then  new,  though  I  afterward 
lived  to  hear  it  corroborated  in  every  re- 
spect. With  many  such  traits  of  the  service 
did  mademoiselle  beguile  the  time — now 
telling  of  the  pleasant  life  of  the  canton- 
ment— now  of  the  wild  scenes  of  the  battle- 


field. Young  as  she  was,  sh<  had  - 
much  of  both,  and  learned  around  the  bi- 
vouac fires  the  old  traditions  of  the  revolu- 
tionary armies,  and  the  brave  deeds  of  the 
fir-i  veterans  of  France.  In  such  narratives, 
too,  her  own  enthusiastic  nature  burs!  forth 
in  all  its  vehement — her  eyes  would 
sparkle,  and  her  words  come  rapidly,  at 
described  some  fierce  attack  or  headlong 
charge — and  it  was  impossibli  to  listen 
without  catching  up  a  portion  of  her  ardor, 
so  wrapt  up  did  she  herself  become  in  the 
excitement  of  her  story.  Thus,  one  even- 
ing, while  describing  the  passage  of  the 
Adige,  after  detailing  most  circumstantial- 
ly the  position  and  strength  of  the  attack- 
ing columns,  and  describing  how  each  suc- 
cessive advance  was  repulsed  by  the 
murderous  fire  of  the  artillery,  she  pro- 
ceeded to  relate  the  plan  of  a  Hank  move- 
ment, effected  by  some  light  infantry 
regiments,  thrown  across  the  river  a 
siderable  distance  up  the  stream.  "  We 
came  along,"  said  she,  "under  the  shade  of 
some  willows,  and  at  last  reached  the  ford 
— the  leading  companies  halted,  two  officers 
sounded  the  river,  and  found  that  it  was 
passable.  I  was  close  by  at  the  time — it 
was  the  Colonel  Lajolais  who  commanded 
the  brigade,  and  he  asked  me  for  a  *  gov  ft  r.' 
'It  may  be  the  last  you'll  ever  give  me, 
Minette,'  said  he  ;  'I  don't  expect  to  see  you 
again.' 

"  'Are  you  going  to  remain  at  this  side, 
colonel  ?  '  said  I. 

"'No,  parhlcu,'  said  he,  'not  when  the 
Twenty-second  cross  to  the  other.' 

"'Neither  am  I,  then,'  said  I;  'my 
place  is  with  the  head  of  the  battalion.' 
Well,  well,  they  all  pressed  me  to  stay  back 
— they  said  a  thousand  kind  things  too — 
but  that  only  decided  me  the  more  to  go  on 
— and  as  the  signal-rocket  was  fired,  the 
word  was  given,  and  on  we  went.  For  the 
first  eight  or  ten  paces  it  was  mere  wading 
— but  suddenly  a  grenadier  in  the  front 
called  out,  '  Gare !  lift  your  muskets,  it's 
deep  here  ; '  and  so  it  was — with  one  plunge 
down  I  went,  but  they  seized  me  by  the 
arms  and  carried  me  along,  and  some  way 
or  other  we  reached  the  bank.  Morbleu .' 
I  felt  half  drowned — but  there  was  little 
time  to  think  over  these  things,  for  scarce- 
ly had  the  column  formed,  when  the  cry  of 
'  Cavalry  ! '  was  given,  and  down  came  the 
lancers  with  a  swoop;  but  we  were  all 
ready.  The  flank  companies  fell  back,  and 
formed  in  square,  and  a  tremendous  volley 
sent  them  off  faster  than  they  came.  '  Now, 
then,  push  forward  double  quick,'  said  the 
old  colonel — '  the  pas  de  charge.'  Alas! 
the  poor  little  drummer  was  lying  dead  at 


432 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


his  feet.  The  thought  suddenly  seized  me, 
I  sprang  forward,  unstrung  Ins  drum,  threw 
the  strap  over  my  shoulder,  and  heat  the 
'pas  de  charge' — a  cheer  ran  along  the 
whole  battalion,  and  on  we  went.  Mortde 
ciel!  I  was  never  so  near  the  fire  before. 
There  was  the  enemy,  scarce  two  hundred 
yards  off — two  great  columns,  with  artillery 
between,  waiting  for  us.  '  Keep  her  back 
— keep  back  Minette — brave  filled  1  heard 
no  more — a  shot  came  whizzing  past,  and 
struck  me  here."  She  pulled  down  her 
dress  as  she  spoke,  and  disclosed  the  scar  of 
a  bullet's  track  on  her  white  shoulder  ; 
then,  as  if  suddenly  recollecting,  she 
blushed  deeply,  drew  her  kerchief  closely 
around  her,  and  muttered  m  a  low  voice, 
"Mafoi,  how  these  things  make  one  for- 
get to  be  a  woman."  And  with  that  she 
hung  down  her  head,  and  despite  all  I  could 
say  would  not  utter  another  word. 

Such  was  the  vivandiere  of  the  Fourth  ; 
blending  in  her  character  the  Avoman's 
weakness  and  the  soldier's  ardor — the  deli- 
cacy of  feeling,  which  not  even  the  life  of 
camps  and  bivouacs  could  eradicate,  with 
the  wild  enthusiasm  for  glory — the  passion 
of  her  nation.  It  needed  not  her  dark  eyes, 
shaded  with  their  long  black  fringe — her 
oval  face,  whose  freckles  but  displayed  the 
transparent  skin  beneath — her  graceful  fig- 
ure, and  her  elastic  step,  to  make  her  an 
object  of  attraction  in  the  regiment ;  nor 
could  I  be  surprised  to  learn  as  I  did,  how 
many  a  high  offer  of  marriage  had  been 
made  to  her  by  those  soldiers  of  fortune 
whose  gallantry  and  daring  had  Avon  them 
honors  in  the  service. 

To  value  at  their  real  price  such  attrac- 
tions, one  should  meet  them  far  aAvay,  and 
remote  from  the  ordinary  habits  of  the 
Avorld,  in  the  wild,  reckless  career  of  the 
camp — on  the  long  march — beside  the 
weary  Avatch-fire — ay,  on  the  very  field  of 
battle — amid  the  dm,  the  clamor,  and  the 
smoke— the  cheers,  the  cries  of  carnage  : 
then,  indeed,  such  an  apparition  had  some- 
thing magical  in  it.  To  see  that  tender 
girl  tripping  along  fearlessly  from  rank  to 
rank,  as  though  she  had  a  charmed  life — 
now  saluting  Avith  her  hand  some  brave 
soldier  as  he  rode  by  to  the  charge — noAV 
stooping  beside  the  Avounded,  and  holding 
to  his  bloodless  lips  the  longed-for  cup  :  to 
watch  her  as  she  rode  gracefully  at  the 
head  of  the  regiment,  or  lay  beside  the  fire 
of  the  bivouac,  relating  with  a  woman's 
grace  some  story  of  the  campaign — Avhile 
the  gray-bearded  veteran  and  the  raw  youth 
hung  on  each  Avord,  and  Avondered  how  the 
scenes  in  Avhich  they  mingled  and  acted 
could  bear  such  interest  when  told  by  rosy 


lips.  "Who  would  Avonder  if  she  had  many 
lovers?  who  would  not  rather  be  surprised 
at  those  who  remained  coldly  indifferent  to 
such  charms  as  hers  ? 

Let  my  confession,  then,  excite  neither 
astonishment  nor  suspicion,  when  I  ac- 
knowledge that,  in  such  companionship, 
the  days  slipped  rapidly  over.  I  never 
wearied  of  hearing  her  tell  of  the  scenes 
she  had  witnessed,  nor  did  she  of  recount- 
ing them  ;  and,  although  a  sense  of  re- 
proach used  now  and  then  to  cross  me  for 
the  life  of  inactivity  and  indolence  I  was 
leading,  Mademoiselle  Minette  promised 
me  many  a  brave  opportunity  of  distinction 
to  come,  and  campaigns  of  as  great  glory 
as  even  those  of  Italy  and  Egypt. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 


THE  SICK  LEAVE. 


"What  is  it,  Minette  ?"  said  I,  for  the 
third  time,  as  I  saAv  her  lean  her  head  from 
out  the  narrow  casement,  and  look  down 
into  the  valley  beside  the  river — "  what  do 
you  see  there  ?" 

''I  see  a  regiment  of  infantry  coming 
along  the  road  from  Ulm,"  said  she,  after 
a  pause,  "  and  now  I  perceive  the  lancers 
are  following  them,  and  the  artillery  too. 
Ah  !  and  farther  again,  I  see  a  great  cloud 
of  dust.  Mere  de  Ciel!  Iioav  tired  and 
weary  they  all  look  !  It  surely  cannot  be 
a  march  in  retreat ;  and  noAV  that  I  think 
of  it,  they  haAre  no  baggage,  nor  any  wag- 
ons with  them." 

"  That  was  a  bugle  call,  Minette  !  Did 
you  not  hear  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it's  a  halt  for  a  few  minutes. 
Poor  fellows,  they  are  sadly  exhausted  ; 
they  cannot  eA'en  reach  the  side  of 'the  Avay, 
but  are  lying  down  on  the  very  road.  I 
can  bear  it  no  longer.  I  must  find  out 
what  it  all  means."  So  saying,  she  threw 
a  mantle  Avhich,  Spanish  fashion,  she  Avore 
over  her  head,  round  her,  and  hurried 
from  the  room. 

For  some  time  I  waited  patiently  for  her 
'return  ;  but  when  half  an  hour  elapsed,  I 
|  arose  and  crept  to  the  window.  A  suc- 
!  cession  of  rocky  precipices  descended  from 
the  terrace  on  which  the  house  stood,  down 
I  to  the  very  edge  of  the  Danube,  and  from 
l  the  point  Avhere  I  sat  the  view  extended  for 
:  miles  in  every  direction.  What  then  Avas 
J  my  astonishment  to  see  the  wide  plain,  not 
;  marked  by  regular  columns  in  marching 
!  array,  but  covered  with  straggling  detach- 
'  ments,  hurrying  onward  as  if  without  or- 


\ 


C-     *' 


GMl^' 


^^pL^^r^^^  _ 


V°w  roftir    Co .    A/.Y 


BENT  FORWARD  AND  RECEIVED  HIS  BLADE  IN  THE  MUSCLES  OF  MY  BACK — WHEN,  WITH 
A  WHEEL  ROUND,  I  SMASHED  THE  SWORD  IN  ME,  AND  BURIED  MY  OWN,  UP  TO  THE 
HILT,   IN   HIS   BODY,      (P.  428.) 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


433 


der  or  discipline.  Here,  was  an  infantry 
battalion  mixed  up  with  a  cavalry  corps — 
the  foot  soldiers  endeavoring  to  keep  up 
with  the  ambling  trot  of  the  dragoons; 
there,  the  ammunition  wagons  were  covered 
with  weary  soldiers,  too  tired  to  march. 
Most  of  the  men  were  without  their  lire- 
locks,  which  were  piled  in  a  confused  heap 
on  the  limbers  of  the  guns.  No  merry 
chant — no  burst  of  warlike  music  cheered 
them  on.  They  seemed  like  the  scattered 
fragments  of  a  routed  army  hurrying  on- 
ward in  search  of  some  place  of  refuge — 
sad  and  spiritless. 

"  Can  he  have  been  beaten  ?  "  was  the 
fearful  thought  that  flashed  across  me  as  I 
gazed.  "  Have'  the  bold  legions  that  were 
never  vanquished  succumbed  at  last  !  Oh, 
no  !  no  ! — I'll  not  believe  it  ; "  and  while  a 
glow  of  fever  warmed  my  whole  blood,  I 
buckled  on  my  sabre,  and  taking  my  shako, 
prepared  to  issue  forth.  Scarcely  had  I 
reached  the  door,  with  tottering  limbs, 
when  I  saw  Minette  dashing  up  the  steep 
street  at  the  top  speed  of  her  pony,  while 
she  flourished  above  her  head  a  great  pla- 
card, and  waved  it  to  and  fro. 

"  The  news  !  the  news  !  "  cried  I,  burst- 
ing with  anxiety o  "Are  they  advancing  ; 
or  is  it  a  retreat  ?  " 

"Read  that!"  said  she,  throwing  me  a 
large  sheet  of  paper,  headed  with  the  words, 
"Proclamation  a  la  Grande  Armee," 
in  huge  letters.  "Read  that !  for  I've  no 
breath  left  to  tell  you." 

"  Soldiers  ! — The  campaign  so  glori- 
ously begun  will  soon  be  completed.  One 
victory,  and  the  Austrian  empire,  so  great 
but  a  week  since,  will  be  humbled  in  the 
dust.  Hasten  on,  then  :  forced  marches, 
by  day  and  night,  will  attest  3^0 nr  eagerness 
to  meet  the  enemy  ;  and  let  the  endeavor 
of  each  regiment  be  to  arrive  soonest  on  the 
field  of  battle." 

"Minette  ! — dearest  Minette  !"  said  I,  as 
I  threw  my  arms  around  her  neck,  "this 
is,  indeed,  good  news." 

"  Gently,  gently,  monsieur  !  "  said  she, 
smiling,  while  she  disengaged  herself  from 
my  sudden  embrace.  "Very  good  news, 
without  doubt ;  but  I  don't  think  that 
there  is  any  mention  in  the  bulletin  about 
embracing  the  vivandieres  of  the  army." 

"At  a  moment  like  this,  Minette — " 

"The  best  thing  to  do  is,  to  makeup 
one's  baggage,  and  join  the  march,"  said 
she,  very  steadity,  proceeding  at  the  same 
time  to  put  her  plan  into  execution.  While 
I  gave  her  all  assistance  in  my  power,  the 
doctor  entered  to  inform  us  that  all  the 
vol.  i—28 


wounded  who  were  then  noi  sufficiently 
i  istored  to  return  to  duty,  were  to  be  con- 
veyed to  Munich,  where  general  military 
hospitals  had  been  established,  and  that 
he  himself  had  received  orders  to  repair 
thither,  with  his  sick  detachment,  in  which 
my  name  was  enrolled. 

'•You'll  keep  your  old   friend,  Frai 
company,  Lieutenant  Burke — he  is  able  to 
move  at  last." 

"Francois!"  said  I,  in  ecstasy,  "and 
will  he,   indeed,  recover  ?" 

"I  have  little  doubi  of  it:  though  cer- 
tainly he's  not  likely  to  practice  as  maitre 
tfarmes  again.  You've  spoiled  hie  tierct  ' 
— though  not  before  it  cost  the  army  some 
of  the  prettiest  fellows  I  ever  saw;  bv 
to  yourself — " 

"As  for  me,  I'll  march  with  the  army. 
I  feel  perfectly  recovered  ;  my  arm— 

"  Oh  !  as  for  monsieur's  arms,"  said 
mademoiselle,  "I'll  answer  for  it,  they  arc 
quite  at  his  Majesty's  service." 

"Indeed  !"  said  the  doctor,  knowingly. 
"  I  thought  it  would  come  to  that.  Well, 
well  !  mademoiselle,  don't  look  saucy.  Let 
us  part  good  friends  for  ence  in  our  livi 

"I  hate  being  reconciled  to  a  surgeon," 
said  she,  pettishly. 

"Why  so,  I  pra3T  ?" 

"  Oh,  3Tou  know,  when  one  quarrels  with 
an  officer,  the  poor  fellow  will  be  killed  be- 
fore one  sees  him  again,  and  it's  always  a 
sad  thought,  that — but  your  doctor,  noth- 
ing ever  happens  to  him  ;  you're  sure  to  see 
him,  with  his  white  apron  and  his  horrid 
weapons,  a  hundred  times  after,  and  one  is 
always  sorry  for  having  forgiven  such  a 
cruel  wretch." 

"Come,  come  !  mademoiselle  !  you  bear 
us  all  an  ill-will  for  the  fault  of  one,  and 
that's  not  fair.  It  was  the  hospital  aide  of 
the  Sixth,  monsieur,  a  handsome  fellow, 
too,  who  did  not  fall  in  love  with  her  after 
her  wound — a  slight  scratch." 

"A  slight  scratch  !  do  you  call  it  ?"  said 
I,  indignantly,  as  I  perceived  the  poor 
girl's  e3Tes  fill  at  the  raillery  of  her  tor- 
mentor. 

"Ah  !  monsieur  has  seen  it.  then,"  said 
he,  maliciously.  "  A  thousand  pardons.  I 
have  the  honor  to  wish  you  both  adieu." 
And  with  that,  and  a  smile  of  the  most  im- 
pertinent meaning,  he  took  his  leave. 

"How  silly  to  be  vexed  for  so  little, 
Minette,"  said  I,  approaching  and  endeav- 
oring to  console  her. 

"  Well  !  but  to  call  my  wound  a  scratch," 
said  she.      "  Was  it  not  too  bad  ?  and  I  the 
only  vivandiere  of  the  army  that  ever  felt  • 
a  bullet."     And  with  that  she  turned  away 
her  head,  but  I  could  see,  as  she  wij^ed  her 


4ii4 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


eyes,  that  she  cared  less  for  the  sarcasm  on 
her  wounded  shoulder  than  the  insult  to 
her  wounded  heart.  Poor  girl,  she  looked 
sick  and  pale  the  whole  day  after. 

We  learned  in  the  course  of  the  day  that 
some  cavalry  detachments  would  pass  early 
on  the  morrow,  thus  allowing  us  sufficient 
time  to  provide  ourselves  with  horses,  and 
make  our  other  arrangements  for  the 
march.  These  we  succeeded  in  doing  to 
our  satisfaction  :  I  being  fortunate  enough 
to  secure  the  charger  of  an  Austrian  pris- 
oner ;  mademoiselle  being  already  admir- 
ably mounted  with  her  palfrey.  Occupied 
with  these  details,  the  day  passed  rapidly 
over,  and  the  hour  for  supper  drew  near 
without  my  feeling  how  the  time  slipped 
past.  At  last  the  welcome  meal  made  its 
appearance,  and  with  it  mademoiselle  her- 
self. I  could  not  help  remarking  that  her 
toilet  displayed  a  more  than  common  at- 
tention ;  her  neat  Parisian  cap — her  collar, 
with  its  deep  Valenciennes  lace,  and  her 
tablier,  so  coquettishly  embroidered,  were 
all  signs  of  an  unusual  degree  of  care,  and 
though  she  was  pale  and  in  low  spirits,  I 
never  saw  her  look  so  pretty. 

All  my  efforts  to  make  her  converse  were, 
however,  in  vain.  Some  secret  weight  lay 
heavily  on  her  spirits,  and  not  even  the 
stirring  topics  of  the  coming  campaign 
could  awaken  one  spark  of  her  enthusiasm. 
She  evaded,  too,  every  allusion  to  the  fol- 
lowing day's  march,  or  answered  my  ques- 
tions about  it  with  evident  constraint. 
Tired  at  last  with  endeavoring  to  overcome 
her  silent  mood,  I  affected  an  air  of  chagrin, 
thinking  to  pique  her  by  it ;  but  she  mere- 
ly remarked  that  I  appeared  weary,  and 
that  as  I  had  a  long  journey  before* me,  it 
were  as  well  I  should  retire  early. 

The  marked  coolness  of  her  manner  at 
this  moment  struck  me  so  forcibly,  that 
I  began  really  to  feel  some  portion  of  the 
ill-temper  I  affected,  and,  with  the  cross- 
ness of  an  over-petted  child,  I  arose  to  with- 
draw at  once. 

"  Good-by,  monsieur  —  good-night,  I 
mean,"  said  she,  blushing  slightly. 

"  Good-night,  mademoiselle,"  said  I, 
taking  her  hand  coldly  as  I  spoke.  "  I 
trust  I  may  find  you  in  better  spirits  to- 
morrow." 

"Good-night — adieu,"  said  she,  hastily, 
and  before  I  could  add  a  word  she  was 
gone. 

"  She  is  a  strange  girl,"  thought  I,  as  I 
found_  myself  alone,  and  tortured  my  mind 
to  think  whether  anything  I  could  have 
dropped  had  offended  her.  But  no  ;  we 
had  parted  a  few  hours  before  the  best 
friends  in  the  world  :  nothing  had  then  oc- 


curred to  which  1  could  attribute  thissudden 
change.  1  had  often  remarked  the  variable 
character  of  her  disposition  ;  the  flashes  of 
gayety,  mingled  with  outbursts  of  sorrow — 
the  playful  moods  of  fancy,  alternating 
with  moments  of  deep  melancholy  ;  and, 
after  all,  this  might  be  one  of  them. 

With  these  thoughts  I  threw  myself  on 
my  bed,  but  could  not  sleep.  A\  one  minute 
my  brain  went  on  puzzling  about  Minette 
and  her  sorrow  ;  at  the  next  I  reproached 
myself  for  my  own  harsh,  unfeeling  man- 
ner to  the  poor  girl,  and  was  actually  on 
the  eve  of  arising  to  seek  her  and  ask  her 
pardon.  At  last  sleep  came,  and  dreams 
too  ;  but,  strange  enough,  they  were  of  the 
distant  land  of  my  boyhood  and  the  hours 
of  my  youth — of  the  old  house  in  which  I 
was  born,  and  its  well-remembered  rooms. 
I  thought  I  was  standing  before  my  father, 
wdiile  he  scolded  me  for  some  youthful 
transgression  ;  I  heard  his  words  as  though 
they  were  really  spoken,  as  he  told  me  that 
I  should  be  an  outcast  and  a  wanderer, 
without  a  friend,  a  house,  or  home  ;  that 
while  others  reaped  wealth  and  honors,  I 
was  destined  to  be  a  castaway  :  and  in  the 
torrent  of  my  grief  I  awoke. 

It  was  night — dark,  silent  night;  a  few 
stars  were  shining  in  the  sky,  but  the  earth 
was  wrapped  in  shadow  ;  and  as  I  opened 
my  window  to  let  the  fresh  breeze  calm  my 
fevered  forehead,  the  deep  precipice  beneath 
me  seemed  a  vast  gulf  of  yawning  blackness. 
At  a  great  distance  off  I  could  see  the 
watch-fires  of  some  soldiers  bivouacking  in 
the  plain  ;  and  even  that  much  comforted 
my  saddened  heart,  as  it  aroused  me  to  the 
thoughts  of  the  campaign  before  me.  But 
again  my  thoughts  recurred  to  my  dream, 
which  I  could  not  help  feeling  as  a  sort  of 
prediction. 

When  our  sleep  leaves  its  strong  track  in 
our  waking  moments,  Ave  dread  to  sleep 
again,  for  fear  the  whole  vision  should  come 
back  ;  and  thus  I  sat  down  beside  the  win- 
dow, and  fell  into  a  long  train  of  thought. 
The  images  of  my  dream  were  uppermost 
in  my  mind,  and  every  little  incident  of 
childhood,  long  lost  to  memory,  came  now 
fresh  before  me — the  sorrows  of  my  school- 
boy years,  unrelieved  by  the  sense  of  love 
awaiting  me  at  home  ;  the  clinging  to  all 
who  seemed  to  feel  or  care  for  me,  and  the 
heart-sickening  sorrow  "when  I  found  that 
what  I  mistook  for  affection  was  merely 
pity  ;  all  save  one — my  mother.  Her  mild, 
sad  looks,  so  seldom  cheered  by  a  ray  of 
pleasure,  I  remember  well  how  they  fell  on 
me  !  with  such  a  thrilling  sensation  at  my 
heart,  and  such  a  gush  of  thankfulness  as  I 
have  felt  then.     Oh  !  if  they  who  live  with 


TOM  BURKE   OF  *><)UR8. 


435 


children  knew  how  needful  it  is  to  open 
their  hearts  to  all  the  little  sorrows  and 
woes  of  infant  life  ;  to  teach  confidence, 
and  to  feed  hope-,  to  train  up  the  creeping 
tendrils  of  young  desire,  and  not  to  suffer 
them  to  lie  straggling  and  tangled  on  the 
earth — what  a  happier  destiny  would  fall  to 
the  lot  of  many  whose  misfortunes  in  late 
life  date  from  the  crushed  spirit  of  child- 
hood. 

My  mother! — I  thought  of  her,  as  she 
would  bend  over  me  at  night,  her  last  kiss 
pressed  on  my  brow— the  healing  balm  of 
some  sorrow,  for  which  my  sobs  were  still 
breaking  ;  her  pale,  worn  cheek,  her  white 
dress,  her  hand  so  bloodless  and  transparent, 
the  very  emblem  of  her  malady — the  tears 
started  to  my  eyes,  and  rolled  heavily  along 
my  cheek,  my  chest  heaved,  and  my  heart 
beat,  till  I  could  hear  it.  At  this  moment 
a  slight  rustle  stirred  the  leaves.  I  listened, 
for  the  night  was  calm  and  still  ;  not  a 
breeze  moved.  Again  I  heard  it  close  be- 
side the  window,  on  the  little  terrace  which 
ran  along  the  building,  and  occupied  the 
narrow  space  beside  the  edge  of  the  rock. 
Before  I  could  imagine  what  it  meant,  a 
figure  in  white  glided  from  the  shade  of  the 
trees,  and  approached  the  window.  So  ex- 
cited was  my  mind,  so  wrought  up  my 
imagination  by  the  circumstances  of  my 
dream,  and  the  thoughts  that  followed,  that 
I  cried  out,  in  a  voice  of  ecstasy,  "  My 
mother  !  "  Suddenly  the  apparition  stood 
still,  and  then  as  rapidly  retreated,  and  was 
lost  to  view  in  the  dark  foliage.  Mad- 
dened with  intense  excitement,  I  sprang 
from  the  window,  and  leaped  out  on  the 
terrace.  I  called  aloud — I  ran  about  wildly, 
unmindful  of  the  fearful  precipice  that 
yawned  beside  me.  I  searched  every  bush, 
I  crept  beneath  each  tree,  but  nothing  could 
I  detect.  The  cold  perspiration  poured 
down  my  face,  my  limbs  trembled  with  a 
strange  dread  of  I  knew  not  what ;  I  felt  as 
if  madness  was  creeping  over  me,  and  I 
struggled  with  the  thought,  and  tried  to 
calm  my  troubled  brain.  Wearied  and, 
faint,  I  gave  up  the  pursuit  at  last,  and, 
throwing  myself  on  my  bed,  I  sank  ex- 
hausted into  the  heavy  slumber  which  only 
tired  nature  knows. 

"The  Sous-Lieutenant  Burke,"  said  a 
gruff  voice,  awakening  me  suddenly  from 
my  sleep,  while  by  the  light  of  a  lantern 
he  held  in  his  hand  I  recognized  the  figure 
of  an  orderly  sergeant  in  full  equipment. 

"Yes — what  then?"  said  I,  in  some 
amazement  at  the  summons. 

"This  is  the  order  of  march,  sir,  for  the 
invalid  detachment,  under  your  com- 
mand." 


"  How  so — 1  have  no  orders  ?" 
'   Theyaie  here,  sir." 
So  saying,  he  presented  me  with  a  lettei 
from  thr  assistant   adjutant  of  the  corps, 

with  instructions  for  the  conduct  of  f< 
men,  invalided  from  different  regiments, 
and  now  on  their  way  to  Lintz.  The  paper 
was  perfectly  regular,  setting  forth  the 
names  of  the  soldier--  and  theirseveral  corps, 
together  with  the  daily  marches,  the  halts, 
and  distances.  My  only  surprise  was  how 
this  service  so  suddenly  devolved  on  me, 
whose  recovery  could  only  have  been  re- 
ported a  i'vw  hours  before. 

"  When  shall  I  muster  the  detachment, 
sir,"  said  the  sergeant,  interrupting  me  m 
the  midst  of  my  .speculations. 

"  Now — at  once.  It  is  past  five  o'clock. 
I  see  Langenau  is  mentioned  as  the  first 
halting-place  ;  we  can  reach  if  by  eight." 

The  moment  the  sergeant  withdrew,  I 
arose  and  dressed  for  the  read,  anxious  to 
inform  mademoiselle  as  early  as  possible  of 
this  sudden  order  of  march.  When  I 
entered  the  salon,  I  found  to  my  surprise 
that  the  breakfast- table  was  all  laid  and 
everything  ready.  "  What  can  this  mean  ?  " 
said  I  ;  "  has  she  heard  it  already  r  *'  At 
the  same  instant  I  caught  sight  of  the 
door  of  her  chamber  lying  wide  open,  I 
approached,  and  looked  in  ;  the  room  was 
empty  ;  the  various  trunks  and  boxes,  the 
little  relics  of  military  glory  I  remembered 
to  have  seen  with  her,  were  all  gone. 
Minette  had  departed.  When  or  whither, 
I  knew  not  !  1  hurried  through  the  build- 
ing, from  room  to  room,  without  meeting 
any  one.  The  door  was  open,  and  I  passed 
out  into  the  dark  street,  where  all  was  still 
and  silent  as  the  grave.  I  hastened  to  the 
stable  ;  my  horse,  ready  equipped  and  sad- 
dled, was  feeding,  but  the  stall  beside  him 
was  empty — the  pony  of  the  vivandicre 
was  gone.  While  many  a  thought  flashed 
on  my  brain  as  to  her  fate,  I  tortured  my 
mind  to  remember  each  circumstance  of 
our  last  meeting— every  word  and  every 
look  ;  and  as  I  called  to  my  memory  the 
pettish  anger  of  my  manner  toward  her, 
I  grew  sick  at  heart,  and  hated  myself  for 
my  own  cold  ingratitude.  All  her  little  acts 
of  kindness,  her  tender  care,  her  unweary- 
ing good-nature,  were  before  me.  I  thought 
of  her  as  I  had  seen  her  often  m  the  silence 
of  the  night,  when,  waking  from  some 
sleep  of  pain,  she  sat  beside  my  bed,  her 
hand  pressed  on  my  heated  forehead  ;  her 
low,  clear  voice  was  in  my  ear  ;  her  soft, 
mild  look,  beaming  with  hope  and  tender 
pity.  Poor  Minette,  had  I  then  offended 
you — was  such  the  return  I  made  for  all 
your  kindness  ? 


*36 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


"  The  men  are  ready,  sir,"  said  the  ser- 
geant, entering  at  the  moment.    • 

"  She  is  gone,"  said  I,  following  out  my 
own   sad   train  of    thought,  and   pointing 

to  the  vacant  stall  where   her  pony  used  to 
stand. 

"  Mademoiselle  Minette — " 
"  Yes,  what  of  her — where  is  she  ?  " 
"Marched  with    the   cuirassier   brigade 
that    passed    here    last    night    at    twelve 
o'clock.     She  seemed  very  ill,  sir,  and  the 
officer  made  her  sit  on  one  of  the  wagons." 
"  Which  road  did  they  take  ?  " 
"They  crossed    the   river,    and    moved 
away  toward  the  forest.     I  think  I  heard 
the    troop   sergeant   say  something    about 
Salzburg  and  the  Tyrol." 

I  made  no  answer,  but  stood  mute  and 
stupefied  ;  when  I  was  again  recalled  to 
thought  by  his  asking  if  my  baggage  was 
ready  for  the  wagons. 

With  a  sullen  apathy  I  pointed  out  my 
trunks  in  silence,  and  throwing  one  last 
look  on  the  room,  the  scene  of  my  former 
suffering,  and  of  much  pleasure  too,  I 
mounted  my  horse,  and  gave  the  word  to 
move  forward. 

As  we  passed  from  the  gate,  I  stopped  to 
question  the  sous-officier  as  to  the  route  of 
the  cuirassier  division  ;  but  he  could  only 
repeat  what  the  sergeant  had  already  told 
me ;  adding,  there  were  several  men 
slightly  wounded  in  the  squadrons,  for 
they  had'  been  engaged  twice  within  the 
week.  The  gates  closed,  and  we  were  on 
the  high-road. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

LINTZ. 

As  day  was  breaking,  we  came  up  with  a 
strong  detachment  of  the  cavalry  of  the 
Guard,  proceeding  to  join  Bessieres's  divi- 
sion at  Lintz  ;  from  them  we  learned  that 
the  mam  body  of  the  army  was  already  far 
in  advance,  several  entire  corps  having 
marched  from  Lintz  with  the  supposed 
intention  of  occupying  Vienna.  Ney's 
division,  it  was  said,  was  also  bearing 
down  from  the  Tyrol  ;  Davoust  and  Mor- 
tier  were  advancing  by  the  left  bank  of  the 
Danube,  whilst  Lannes  and  Murat,  with  an 
overwhelming  force  of  light  troops,  had 
pushed  forward  two  days'  march  in  advance 
on  their  way  to  the  capi  tal.  The  fate  of  Ulm 
was  already  predicted  for  the  Austrian 
city,  and  each  clay's  intelligence  seemed  to 
make  it  only  the  more  inevitable.  Mean- 
while, the  Emperor  Francis  had  abandoned 
the  capital,  and  retreated  on  Brunn,  a  for- 


tified town  in  Moravia,  there  to  await  the 
arrival  of  his  ally,  Alexander,  hourly  ex- 
peeled  From  Berlin. 

As  day  after  day  we  pressed  forward,  our 
numbers  continued  to  increase;  a  motley 
force,  indeed,  did  we  presenl  -  cavalry  of 
every  sort,  from  the  steel-clad  cuirassier  to 
the  gay  hussar,  dragoons,  chasseurs,  guides, 
and  light  cavalry,  all  mixed  up  together, 
and  all  eagerly  recounting  the  several 
experiences  of  the  campaign,  as  it  fell 
under  their  eye;-'  in  different  quarters. 
From  none,  however,  could  I  learn  any 
tidings  of  Minette  ;  for  though  known  to 
many  there,  the  detachment  she  had  joined 
had  taken  a  southerly  direction,  and  was 
not  crossed  by  any  of  the  others  on  their 
march.  The  General  d'Auvergne,  I  heard, 
was  with  the  head-quarters  of  the  Em- 
peror, then  established  at  the  monastery  of 
MOlk,  on  the  Danube. 

On  the  evening  of  the  13<h  of  November 
we  arrived  at  Lintz,  the  capital  of  Upper 
Austria,  but  at  the  time  I  speak  of  one  vast 
barrack  :  thirty-eight  thousand  troops  of 
all  arms  were  within  its  walls — not  subject 
to  the  rigid  discipline  and  regular  com- 
mand of  a  garrison  town,  but  bivouacking 
in  the  open  streets  and  squares  ;  tables  were 
spread  in  the  thoroughfares,  at  which  the 
divisions,  as  they  arrived,  took  their  places, 
and,  after  refreshing  themselves,  moved  on 
to  make  way  for  others.  The  great 
churches  were  strewed  with  forage,  and 
rilled  with  the  horses  of  the  cavalry  ;  there, 
might  be  seen  the  lumbering  steeds  of  the 
cuirassiers,  eating  their  corn  from  the  richer- 


hjr 

the 


carved  box  of  a  confessional  :  here,  lay  tne 
travel-stained  figure  of  a  dragoon,  stretched 
asleep  across  the  steps  of  the  altar  ;  the 
little  chapelries,  where  the  foot  of  the  peni- 
tent awoke  no  echo  as  it  passed,  now  rung 
with  the  coarse  jest  and  reckless  ribaldry  of 
the  soldier  ;  parties  caroused  in  the  little 
sacristies  ;  and  the  rude  chorus  of  a  drink- 
ing song  now  vibrated  through  the  groined 
roof,  where  only  the  sacred  notes  of  the 
organ  had  been  heard  to  peal.  The  Hotel 
de  Ville  was  the  quartier-general,  where 
the  generals  of  divisions  were  assembled, 
and  from  which  the  orderlies  rode  forth  at 
every  moment  with  dispatches.  The  one 
cry,  "  Forward  ! "  was  heard  everywhere. 
They  who  before  had  .claimed  leave  for 
slight  wounds  or  illness,  were  now  seen 
among  their  comrades,  with  bandaged  arms 
and  patched  faces,  eager  to  press  on.  Many 
whose  regiments  were  in  advance,  became 
incorporated  for  the  time  with  other  corps, 
and  dismounted  dragoons  were  often  to  be 
met  with,  marching  with  the  infantry  and 
mounting  guard  in  turn.     Everything  be- 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


43? 


spoke  haste.  The  regiments  which  arrived 
at  night  frequently  moved  off  before  day 
broke.  The  cavalry  often  were  provided 
with  fresh  horses  to  press  forward,  leaving 
their  own  for  the  corps  that  were  to  follow. 
A  great  flotilla,  provided  with  all  the  neces- 
saries for  an  army  on  the  march,  moved 
along  the  Danube,  and  accompanied  the 
troops  each  day;  in  a  word,  every  expedient 
was  practiced  which  could  hasten  the  move- 
ment of  the  army,  justifying  the  remark 
so  often  repeated  among  the  soldiers  at  the 
time — "  Le  Petit  Caporal  makes  more  use 
of  our  legs  than  our  bayonets  in  this  cam- 
paign." 

On  the  same  evening  we  arrived  came  the 
news  of  the  surprise  of  Vienna  by  Murat. 
Never  was  there  such  joy  as  this  announce- 
ment spread  through  the  army.  The  act 
itself  was  one  of  those  daring  feats  which 
only  such  as  he  could  venture  on,  and  in- 
deed, at  first  seemed  so  miraculous,  that 
many  refused  to  credit  it.  Prince  Auers- 
berg,  to  whom  the  great  bridge  of  the 
Danube  was  intrusted,  had  prepared  every- 
thing for  its  destruction  in  the  event  of 
attack.  The  whole  line  of  wood-work  was 
laid  with  combustibles ;  trains  were  set, 
the  matches  burning  ;  a  strong  battery  of 
twelve  guns,  posted  to  command  the  bridge, 
occupied  the  height  on  the  right  bank,  and 
the  Austrian  gunners  lay,  match  in  hand, 
beside  their  pieces  ;  but  a  word  was  needed, 
and  the  whole  work  was  in  a  blaze.  Such' 
was  the  state  of  matters  when  Sebastiani 
pushed  through  the  faubourg  of  the  Leo- 
poldstadt  at  the  head  of  a  strong  cavalry 
detachment,  supported  by  some  grenadiers 
of  the  Guard,  and,  by  Murat's  orders,  con- 
cealed his  force  among  the  narrow  streets 
which  lead  to  the  bridge  from  the  left  bank 
of  the  Danube. 

This  done,  Lannes  and  Murat  advanced 
carelessly  along  the  bridge,  which,  from 
the  frequent  passage  of  couriers  between 
the  two  head-quarters,  had  become  a  species 
of  promenade,  where  the  officers  of  either 
side  met  to  converse  on  the  fortunes  of  the 
campaign.  Dressed  simply  as  officers  of 
the  staff,  they  strolled  along  till  they  came 
actually  beneath  the  Austrian  battery,  and 
then  entered  into  conversation  with  the 
Austrian  officers,  assuring  them  that  the 
armistice  was  signed,  and  peace  already 
proclaimed  between  the  two  countries. 
The  Austrians,  trusting  to  their  story,  and 
much  interested  hy  what  they  heard,  de- 
scended from  the  mound,  and,  joining 
them,  proceeded  to  walk  backward  and 
forward  along  the  bridge,  conversing  on 
the  probable  consequences  of  the  treaty, 
when  suddenly  turning  round  by  chance, 


as  they  walked  toward  tin  righl  bank,  they 
saw  the  head  of  a  grenadi  c  column  ap- 
proaching al  the  quick  st<  p. 

The  though!    of   tr<  a<  hi  ;;,   cro     id    ;  1 
minds,  and  one  of   them,  to   the 

sid<  of  the  bridge,  called  oul  to  :  he  artilli 
men  to  fire.  A  movem  til  eas  &  n  in  the 
battery,  the  matches  were  uplifted,  when 
Murat,  dashing  forward,  cried  aloud,  ->  lie- 
serve  your  lire,  there  is  nothing  to  fear!" 
The  same  instant  the  Austrian  '.ere 

surrounded  ;  the  sa]  pers  rushing  on  the 
bridge  cleared  away  the  combustibles,  and 
cut  off  the  trains  :  and  the  cavalry,  till 
now  in  concealment,  pushing  forward  al  a 
gallop,  crossed  the  bridge,  followed  by  the 
grenadiers  in  a  run,  before  thi 
who  saw  their  own  officers  mingled  with 
the  French,  could  on  what  was  to 

be  done;    while  Murat,  springing   on    his 
horse,  dashed  onward  at  the  head  of  the 
dragoons,  and  before  five  minutes  elap 
the  battery  was  stormed,  the  gunner.-  • 
tured,  and  Vienna  won. 

Never  was  there  a  coup  de  main  more 
hardy  than  this — whether  we  look  to  the 
danger  of  the  deed  itself,  or  the  insignificant 
force  by  which  it  was  accomplished.  A  few 
horsemen,  and  some  companies  of  foot,  led 
on  by  an  heroic  chief,  thus  turned  the 
whole  fortune  of  Europe ;  for,  by  securing 
this  bridge,  Napoleon  enabled  himself,  as 
circumstances  might  warrant,  to  unite  the 
different  corps  of  his  army  on  the  right  or 
left  banks  of  the  Danube,  and  either  direct 
his  operations  against  the  Russians,  or  the 
Austrians  under  the  Archduke  Charles,  as 
he  pleased. 

The  treachery  by  which  the  bold  deed 
was  made  successful  was,  alas  !  deemed  no 
stain  on  the  achievement.  But  one  rule  of 
judgment  existed  in  the  imperial  army  : 
was"  the  advantage  on  the  side  of  France, 
and  to  the  honor  of  her  arms  ?  That  cov- 
ered every  flaw,  no  matter  whether  inflicted 
by  duplicity  or  breach  of  faith.  The  habit 
of  healing' all  Avounds  of  conscience  by  a 
bulletin  had  become  so  general,  that  men 
would  not  trust  to  the  guidance  of  their 
own  reason  till  confirmed  by  some  imperial 
proclamation;  and  when  the  Emperor  de- 
clared a  battle  gamed,  and  glory  achieved, 
who  would  gainsay  him  ?  If  this  blind, 
headlong  confidence  tended  to  lower  the 
moral  of  the  nation,  in  an  equal  degree  did 
it  make  them  conquerors  m  the  field  ;  and 
thus,  by  a  strange  decree  of  Providence, 
would  it  seem,  were  they  preparing  for 
themselves  the  terrible  reverse  of  fortune 
which. — when  the  destinies  of  their  leader 
became  clouded,  and  their  confidence  ra 
him  shaken — was  to  fall  on  a  people  who 


438 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORItS. 


lived  only  in  the  mad  intoxication  of  vic- 
toiy,  and  knew  not  the  sterner  virtues  that 
can  combat  with  defeat. 

But  so  was  it — Napoleon  commanded  the 
legions,  and  described  their  achievements; 
he  led  them  to  the  charge,  and  he  apportion- 
ed their  glory;  the  heroism  of  the  soldier 
had  no  existence,  until  acknowledged  by 
the  proclamation  after  the  batttle ;  the 
valor  of  the  general  wanted  confirmation, 
fill  scaled  by  his  approval.  To  fight-be- 
neath his  eyes  was  the  greatest  glory  a  re- 
giment could  wish  for — to  win  one  word 
from  him  was  fame  itself  forever. 

If  I  dwell  on  these  thoughts  here,  it  is 
because  I  now  felt  for  the  first  time  the 
sad  deception  I  had  practiced  on  myself — 
and  how  little  could  I  hope  to  realize  in 
my  soldier's  life  the  treasured  aspirations  of 
my  boyhood.  Was  this,  then,  indeed  the 
career  I  had  pictured  to  my  mind — the 
chivalrous  path  of  honor  ?  Was  this  the 
bold  assertion  of  freedom  I  so  often  dream- 
ed of  ?  How  few  of  that  armed  host  knew 
anything  of  the  causes  of  the  war — -how 
much  fewer  still  cared  for  them  !  No  sen- 
timent of  patriotism,  no  devotion  to  the 
interests  of  liberty  or  humanity,  prompted 
us  on.  Yet  these  were  the  thoughts 
first  led  me  to  the  career  of  arms ; 
such  ambitious  promptings  first  made  my 
heart,  glow  with  the  enthusiasm  of  a 
soldier. 

This  gloomy  disappointment  made  me 
low-spirited  and  sad  ;  nor  can  I  say  where 
such  reflections  might  not  have  led  me, 
when  suddenly  a  change  came  over  my 
thoughts  by  seeing  a  wounded  soldier,  who 
had  just  arrived  from  Mortiers  division, 
with  news  of  a  fierce  encounter  they  had 
sustained  against  Kutusof  s  Russians.  The 
poor  fellow  was  carried  past  in  a  litter — his 
arm  had  been  amputated  that  same  morn- 
ing, and  a  frightful  shot-wound  had  car- 
ried away  part  of  his  cheek ;  still,  amid 
all  his  suffering,  his  eye  was  brilliant, 
and  a  smile  of  proud  meaning  was  on  his 
lips. 

"Lift  it  up,  Guillaume ;  let  me  see  it 
again,"  said  he,  as  they  bore  him  along  the 
crowded  street. 

"  What  is  it  he  wishes  ?  "  said  I.  "  The 
poor  fellow  is  asking  for  something." 

"Yes,  mon  lieutenant.  It  is  the  sabre 
dlionneur  the  Emperor  gave  him  this 
morning  ;  he  likes  to  look  at  it  every  now 
and  then ;  he  says  he  doesn't  mind  the 
nain  when  he  sees  that  before  him — and 
it's  natural,  too." 

"  Such  is  glory,"  said  I  to  myself ;  "  and 
he  who  feels  this  in  his  heart,  has  no  room 
for  other  thoughts." 


"Oh,  give  to  me  the  trumpet's  Mast, 

And  the  champ  of  the  charger  prancing  ; 
Or  the  whiz  of  the  grape-shot  flying  past, 
That's  music  meet  for  dancing, 

Tralararala," 

sang  a  wild-looking  voltigeur,  as  he  capered 
along  the  street,  keeping  time  to  his  rude 
song  with  the  tramp  of  his  feet. 

"  I  la  !  there  goes  a  fellow  from  the  Fau- 
bourg," said  an  officer  near  me. 

"The  Faubourg?"  repeated  I,  asking 
for  explanation. 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure.  The  Faubourg  St. 
Antoine  supplies  all  the  reckless  devils  of 
the  army — one  of  them  would  corrupt  a 
regiment  ;  and  so,  the  best  thing  to  do  is, 
to  keep  them  as  much  together  as  possible. 
The  voltigeurs  have  little  else — and  proof 
is,  they  are  the  cleverest  corps  in  the  ser- 
vice ;  and  if  they  could  be  kept  from  pick- 
ing and  stealing,  lying,  drinking,  and 
gambling,'  there's  not  a  man  might  not  be 
a  general  of  division  in  time.  There  goes 
another."  As  he  spoke,  a  fellow  passed  by 
with  a  goose  under  his  arm,  followed  by  a 
woman  most  vociferously  demanding  resti- 
tution, while  he  only  amused  himself  by 
replying  with  a  mock  courtesy — deploring 
in  sad  terms  the  unhappy  necessities  of 
war,  and  the  cruel  hardships  of  a  cam- 
paign. 

"It's  no  use  punishing  those  felloAvs," 
said  the  officer;  "they  desert  in  whole 
companies  if  you  send  one  to  the  salle  de 
police;  and  so  we  have  only  one  resource, 
which  is,  to  throw  them  pretty  much  in 
advance,  and  leave  their  chastisement  to 
the  enemy  ;  and,  sooth  to  say,  they  ask  for 
nothing  better  themselves." 

Thus,  even  these  fellows  seemed  to  have 
their  own  sentiment  of  glory — a  problem 
which  the  more  I  reasoned  over,  the  more 
puzzled  did  I  become. 

While  a  hundred  conjectures  were  hourly 
in  circulation,  none,  save  those  immediate- 
ly about  the  person  of  Napoleon,  could 
possibly  divine  the  quarter  where  the  great 
blow  was  to  be  struck,  although  all  were  in 
expectation  of  the  orders  to  prepare  for 
battle.  News  would  reach  us  of  marchings 
and  counter-marchings — of  smart  skir- 
mishes here,  and  prisoners  taken  there — yet 
could  we  not  form  the  slightest  conception 
of  where  the  chief  force  of  the  enemy  lay, 
nor  what  the  direction  to  which  our  own 
army  was  pointed.  Indeed,  our  troops 
seemed  to  scatter  on  every  side.  Marmont, 
with  a  strong  force,  was  dispatched  toward 
Gratz,  where  it  was  said  the  Archduke 
Charles  was  at  the  head  of  a  considerable 
army.  Davoust  moved  on  Hungary,  and 
occupied   Prcsburg.      Bernadotte  retraced 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


439 


his  stops  toward  the  Upper  Danube,  to 
hold  the  Archduke  Frederick  in  check, 
who  had  escaped  from  Ulm  with  ten  thou- 
sand men.  Mortiers  corps,  harassed  and 
broken  by  the  engagemenl  with  Kulusof, 
were  barely  sufficient  to  garrison  Vicuna, 
while  Soult,  Lannes,  and  Murat  pushed 
forward  toward  Moravia,,  with  a  strong 
cavalry  force,  and  some  battalions  of  the 
Guard.  In  fact,  the  whole  army  was  scat- 
tered like  an  exploded  shell — nor  could  we 
see  the  means  by  which  its  wide-extended 
fragments  were  to  be  united  at  a  moment, 
much  less  divine  the  spot  to  which  their 
combined  force  was  to  be  directed. 

Had  these  Russians  been  fabulous  crea- 
tures of  a  legend,  instead  of  men  of  mortal 
mold,  they  could  scarcely  have  been  en- 
dowed with  more  attributes  of  ubiquity 
than  we  conferred  on  them  :  sometimes  we 
believed  them  at  one  side  of  the  Danube— 
sometimes  at  the  other  ;  now,  we  heard  of 
them  as  retreating  by  forced  marches  into 
their  native  fastnesses — now,  as  encamped 
in  the  mountain  regions  of  Moravia.  .  Yes- 
terday, came  the  news  that  they  laid  down 
their  arms  and  surrendered  as  prisoners  of 
war  ;  to-day,  we  heard  of  them  as  having 
forced  back  our  advanced  posts,  and  carried 
off  several  squadrons  prisoners.  At  length 
came  the  positive  information,  that  the 
allied  armies  were  in  cantonments  around 
Olmutz,  while  Napoleon  had  pushed  for- 
ward to  Brunn,  a  place  of  considerable 
strength,  communicating  by  the  high-road 
with  the  Russian  head-quarters.  It  was  no 
longer  doubtful,  then,  where  the  great 
game  was  to  be  decided,  and  thither  the 
various  battalions  were  now  directed,  by 
marches  day  and  night. 

On  the  29th  of  November  our  united 
detachments,  now  numbering  several  hun- 
dred men,  arrived  at  Brunn.  I  lost  no 
time  in  repairing  to  head-quarters,  where  I 
found  General  d'Auvergne  deeply  engaged 
with  the  details  of  the  force  under  his  com- 
mand— his  brigade  had  been  placed  under 
the  orders  of  Murat ;  and  it  was  well  known 
the  prince  gave  little  rest  or  respite  to  those 
under  his  command.  From  him  I  learnt 
that  three  days  of  unsuccessful  negotiation 
had  just  passed  over,  and  that  the  Emperor 
had  now  resolved  en  a  great  battle.  In- 
deed, every  moment  Was  critical.  Russia 
had  assumed  a  decidedly  hostile  aspect ; 
the  Swedes  were  moving  to  the  south  ;  the 
Archduke  Charles,  by  a  circuitous  route, 
was  on  the  march  to  join  the  Russian  army, 
to  whose  aid  fresh  reinforcements  were 
daily  arriving  ;  and  Bcnningscn  was  hourly 
expected  with  more.  Under  these  circum- 
stances a  battle  was  inevitable — and  such  a 


|  one   as,  by  its  result,  must    conclude  the 
war. 

This  much  did  I  learn  from  the  old 
general  as  we  rode  over  the  field  together, 
examining  with  caution  the  nature  of  the 
j  ground,  and  where  it  offered  facilities,  and 
where  it  presented  obstacles,  to  the  move- 
ment of  cavalry.  Such  were  the  orders 
issued  that  morning  by  Napoleon  to  the 
generals  of  brigade,,  who  mighl  new  lie 
seen  traversing  the  plain,  with  their  staffs, 
in  every  direction.  As  we  moved  along  we 
could  discover  in  the  distance  the  dark- 
columns  of  the  enemy  marching,  not  to- 
ward us,  but  in  a  southerly  direction  toward 
our  extreme  right.  Tin  movemenl  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  several  othi  re,  and 
more  than  one  aide-de-camp  \\  as  dispatchi  d 
to  Brunn,  to  carry  the  intelligence  to  the 
Emperor. 

The  same  evening  couriers  departed  in 
every  direction  to  Bcrnadotte  and  Davoi 
to  hasten  forward  at  once;  even  Mortier, 
with  his  mangled  division,  was  ordered  to 
abandon  Vienna  to  a  division  of  Marmont's 
army,  and  move  on  to  Brunn  ;  and  now 
the  great  work  of  concentration  began. 
Meanwhile  the  Russians  advanced,  and  on 
the  30th  drove  in  an  advanced  post,  and 
compelled  our  cavalry  to  fall  bacjx  behind 
our  position. 

The  following  morning  the  allies  resumed 
their  flank  movement,  and  now  no  doubt 
could  be  entertained  of  their  plan,  which 
was,  by  turning  our  right,  to  cut  us  off 
from  our  supporting  columns  resting  at 
Vienna,  and  throw  our  retreat  back  upon 
the  mountainous  districts  of  Bohemia.  In 
this  way  five  massive  columns  moved  past 
us  scarce  half  a  league  distant  from  our 
advanced  posts,  numbering  eighty  thousand 
men,  of  which  fifteen  were  cavalry  in  the 
most  perfect  condition. 

Our  position  was  in  advance  of  the 
fortress  of  Brunn  ;  the  head-quarters  of  the 
Emperor  occupied  a  rising  piece  of  ground, 
at  the  base  of  which  flowed  a  small  stream, 
a  tributary  to  some  of  the  numerous  ponds 
by  which  the  field  was  intersected.  The 
entire  ground  in  our  front  was  indeed  a 
succession  of  these  small  lakes,  with  vil- 
lages interspersed,  and  occasionally  some 
stunted  woods  ;  great  morasses  extended 
around  these  ponds,  through  which  led  the 
high-roads,  or  such  bypaths  as  conducted 
from  one  village  to  another.  Here  aim 
there  were  plains  where  cavalry  might  act 
with  safety,  but  rarely  in  large  bodies. 

Our  right  rested  on  the  lake  of  Moeritz, 
where  Soult's  division  was  stationed,  be- 
hind which,  thrown  back  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  escape  the  observation  of  the  enemy. 


440 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


was  Davoust's  corps,  the  reserve  occupying 
a  cliff  of  ground  beside  the  convent  of 
Eeygern.  Our  left,  under  Lannes,  occupied 
the  hill  of  Santon,  a  wooded  eminence,  the 
last  of  a  long  chain  of  mountains  running 
east  and  west.  Above,  and  on  the  crest  of 
the  height,  a  powerful  park  of  artillery  was 
posted,  and  defended  by  strong  intrench- 
ments.  A  powerful  cavalry  corps  was 
placed  at  the  bottom  of  the  mountain  ; 
next  came  Bernadotte's  division,  separated 
by  the  high-road  from  Brunn  to  Olmutz 
from  the  division  under  Murat,  which,  be- 
sides his  own  cavalry,  contained  Oudinot's 
grenadiers,  and  Bessiere's  battalions  of  the 
Imperial  Guard  ;  the  center  and  right  being 
formed  of  Soult's  division,  the  strongest  of 
all ;  the  reserve,  consisting  of  several  bat- 
talions of  the  Guard  and  a  strong  force  of 
artillery,  being  under  the  immediate  orders 
of  Napoleon,  to  be  employed  wherever  cir- 
cumstances demanded.  These  were  the 
dispositions  for  the  coming  battle,  made 
with  all  the  precision  of  troops  moving  on 
parade  ;  and  such  was  the  discipline  of  the 
army  at  Boulogne,  and  so  perfectly  ar- 
ranged the  plans  of  the  Emperor,  that  the 
ground  of  every  regiment  was  marked  out, 
and  each  corps  moved  into  its  allotted 
space  with  the  regularity  of  some  piece  of 
mechanism. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

AUSTERLITZ. 

The  dispositions  for  the  battle  of  Aus- 
terlitz  occupied  the  entire  day.  From  sun- 
rise Napoleon  was  on  horseback,  visiting 
every  position  ;  he  examined  each  battery 
with  the  skill  of  an  old  officer  of  artillery  ; 
and,  frequently  dismounting  from  his  horse, 
carefully  noted  the  slightest  peculiarities  of 
the  ground,  remarking  to  his  staff,  with  an 
accuracy  which  the  event  showed  to  be 
prophetic,  the  nature  of  the  struggle,  as 
the  various  circumstances  of  the  field  indi- 
cated them  to  his  practiced  mind. 

It  was  already  late  when,  he  turned  his 
horse's  head  toward  the  bivouac  hut — a 
rude  shelter  of  straw — and  rode  slowly 
through  the  midst  of  that  great  army. 
The  ordre  du  jour,  written  at  his  own  dic- 
tation, had  just  been  distributed  among 
the  soldiers ;  and  now,  around  every  watch- 
fire,  the  groups  were  kneeling  to  read  the 
spirit-stirring  lines  by  which  he  so  well 
knew  how  to  excite  the  enthusiasm  of  his 
followers.  They  were  told  "that  the  ene- 
my were  the  same  Russian  battalions  they 
had  already  beaten  at  Hollabrunn,  and  on 


whose  flying  traces  they  had  been  marching 
ever  since."  "They  will  endeavor,"  said 
the  proclamation,  "to  turn  our  right,  but, 
in  doing  so,  they  must  open  their  flank  to 
us  ;  need  I  say  what  will  be  the  result  ? 
Soldiers,  so  long  as  with  your  accustomed 
valor  you  deal  death  and  destruction  in 
their  ranks,  so  long  shall  I  remain  beyond 
the  reach  of  fire  ;  but  let  the  victory  prove, 
even  fcr  a  moment,  doubtful,  your  Em- 
peror shall  be  in  the  midst  of  you.  This 
day  must  decide  forever  the  honor  of  the 
infantry  of  France.  Let  no  man  leave  his 
ranks  to  succor  the  wounded — they  shall  be 
eared  for  by  one  who  never  forgot  his  sol- 
diers ;  and  with  this  victory  the  campaign 
is  ended  ! " 

Never  were  lines  better  calculated  to 
stimulate  the  energy  and  flatter  the  pride 
of  those  to  whom  they  were  addressed.  It 
was  a  novel  thing  in  a  general  to  commu- 
nicate to  his  army  the  plan  of  his  intended 
battle,  and,  perhaps,  to  any  other  than  a 
French  army  the  disclosure  would  not  have 
been  rated  as  such  a  favor  ;  but  their  war- 
like spirit  and  military  intelligence  had 
ever  been  most  remarkably  united,  and  the 
men  were  delighted  with  such  a  proof  of 
confidence  and  esteem. 

A  dull  roar,  like  the  sound  of  the  distant 
sea,  swelled  along  the  line  from  the  far 
right,  where  the  Convent  of  Eeygern  stood, 
and  growing  louder  by  degrees,  proclaimed 
that  the  Emperor  was  coming. 

It  wras  already  dark,  but  he  was  quickly 
recognized  by  the  troops,  and  with  one 
burst  of  enthusiasm  they  seized  upon  the 
straw  of  their  bivouacs,  and,  setting  fire  to 
it,  held  the  blazing  masses  above  their 
heads,  waving  them  wildly  to  and  fro, 
amid  the  cries  of  "  Vive  VEmpereur!" 
For  above  a  league  along  the  plain  the  red 
light  flashed  and  glowed,  marking  out  be- 
neath it  the  dense  squares  and  squadrons 
of  armed  warriors.  It  was  the  anniversary 
of  Napoleon's  coronation,  and  such  was  the 
fete  by  which  they  celebrated  the  day. 

The  Emperor  rode  through  the  ranks 
uncovered.  Never  did  "a  prouder  smile 
light  up  his  features,  while,  thronging 
around  him,  the  veterans  of  the  Guard 
struggled  to  catch  even  a  passing  glance  at 
him.  "  Do  but  look  .at  us  to-morrow,  and 
keep  beyond  the  reach  of  shot,"  said  a 
grognard,  stepping  forward,  "we'll  bring 
their  cannon  and  their  colors,  and  lay  them 
at  thy  feet."  The  marshals  themselves, 
the  hardened  veterans  of  so  many  fights, 
could  not  restrain  their  enthusiasm  ;  and 
proffers  of  devotion  unto  death  accompa- 
nicd  him  as  he  went. 

At  last  all  was   silent  in  the   encamp- 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


441 


mcnt ;  the  soldiers  slept  beside  their  watch- 
fires,  and,  save  the  tramp  of  a  patrol,  or 
the  "qui  vive?"  of  the  sentinels,  all  was 
still.  The  nighi  was  cold  and  sharp,  a 
cutting  wind  blew  across  the  plain,  which 
gave  way  to  a  thick  mist—- so  thick,  the 
sentries  could  scarcely  see  adozen  paces  off. 

I  sat  in  my  little  hovel  of  straw — my 
mind  far  too  much  excited  for  sleep — 
watching  the  stars  as  they  peeped  out  one 
by  one,  piercing  the  gray  mist,  until  at  last 
the  air  became  thin  and  clear,  and  a  frosty 
atmosphere  succeeded  to  the  weighty  fog; 
and  now  I  could  trace  out  the  vast  columns, 
as  they  lay  thickly  strewn  along  the  plain. 
The  old  general,  wrapped  in  his  cloak,  slept 
soundly  on  his  straw  conch  ;  his  deep- 
drawn  breathing  showed  that  his  rest  was 
unbroken.  How  slowly  did  the  time  seem 
to  creep  along — I  thought  it  must  be  nigh 
morning,  and  it  was  only  a  litle  more  than 
midnight.  Our  position  was  a  small  rising 
ground  about  a  mile  in  front  of  the  left 
center,  and  communicating  with  the  ene- 
my's Hue  by  a  narrow  road  between  the 
marshes.  This  had  been  defended  by  a 
battery  of  four  guns,  with  a  stockade  in 
front  ;  and  along  it  now,  for  a  considera- 
ble distance,  a  chain  of  sentinels  were 
placed,  who  should  communicate  any 
movement  that  they  observed  in  the  Bus- 
sian  lines,  of  which  I  was  charged  to  con- 
vey the  earliest  intelligence  to  the  quar tier- 
general.  This  duty  alone  would  have  kept 
me  in  a  state  of  anxiety,  had  not  the  frame 
of  my  mind  already  so  disposed  me  ;  and  I 
could  not  avoid  creeping  out,  from  time  to 
time,  to  peer  through  the  gloom,  in  the 
direction  of  the  enemy's  camp,  and  listen 
with  an  eager  ear  for  any  sounds  from  that 
quarter.  At  last,  I  heard  the  sound  of  a 
voice  at  some  distance  off — then,  a  few 
minutes  after,  the  hurried  step  of  feet,  and 
a  voltigeur  came  up,  breathless  with  haste  : 

"  The  Russians  were  in  motion  toward 
the  right.  Our  advanced  posts  could  hear 
the  roll  of  guns  and  tumbrils  moving  along 
the  plain,  and  it  was  evident  their  columns 
were  in  march." 

I  knelt  down  and  placed  my  ear  to  the 
ground,  and  almost  started  at  the  distinct- 
ness with  which  I  could  hear  the  dull  sound 
of  the  large  guns  as  they  were  dragged 
along ;  the  earth  seemed  to  tremble  beneath 
them. 

I  awoke  the  general  at  once,  who,  rest- 
ing on  his  arm,  coolly  heard  my  report, 
and  having  directed  me  to  hasten  to  head- 
quarters with  the  news,  lay  back  again,  and 
was  asleep  before  I  was  in  my  saddle.  At 
the  top  speed  of  my  horse  I  galloped  to  the 
rear,  winding  my  way  between  the  batta- 


lions, till  I  came  to  a  gentli  ind, 

where,  by  the  lighi  of  several  Large  fires, 
thai  blazed  in  a  circle,  I  could  see  i  he  dis- 
mounted troopers  of  the  chasseurs  a  chevalj 
\  bo  always  formed  the  imperial  body-guard. 
Ha\  o   the  word,  1   was  ;  by 

the  officer  of  the  watch  to  dismount,  and, 
following  him,  I  passed   forward  to  a  •; 
in  the  middle  of  the  circle,  where,   under 
shelter  of  some  sheav<  e  of  -:  r  v.  piled  < 
each  olher,  sal    three  officers,  smoking 
side  a  fire. 

"Ha!  here  comes  news  of  some  sort," 
said  a  voice  1  knew  al  once  to  be  Murat's. 
"Well,  sir,  what  is't  ?" 

"The  Russian  columns  are  in  motion, 
Monsieur  le  Marechal— the  artillery  mov- 
ing rapidly  toward  our  right." 

"  Diantre!  it's  not  much  more  than 
midnight  !  Davoust,  shall  we  awake  the 
Emperor  ?  " 

"No,  no,"  said  a  harsh  voice,  as  a  shri- 
veled, hard-featured  man  turned  round 
from  the  blaze,  and  showing  a  head  cov- 
ered by  a  coarse  woolen  cap,  looked  far 
more  like  a  pirate  than  a  marshal  of  France; 
"they'll  not  attack  before  day  breaks.  Go 
back,"  said  he,  addressing  me,  "observe 
the  position  well,  and  if  there  be  any  gene- 
ral movement  toward  the  southward,  you 
may  report  it." 

By  the  time  I  regained  my  post  all  was 
in  silence  once  more  ;  either  the  Russians 
had  arrested  their  march,  or  already  their 
columns  were  out  of  hearing — not  a  gleam 
of  light  could  I  perceive  along  their  entire 
position  ;  and  now,  worn  out  with  watch- 
ing, I  threw  myself  down  among  the  straw, 
and  slept  soundly. 

"  There— there— that's  the  third  !  "  said 
General  d'Auvergne,  shaking  me  by  the 
shoulder;  "there  again — don't  you  hear 
the  guns  ?" 

I  listened,  and  could  just  distinguish  the 
faint  booming  sound  of  far-off  artillery, 
coming  up  from  the  extreme  right  of  our 
position.  It  was  still  but  three  o'clock, 
and,  although  the  sky  was  thick  with  stars, 
perfectly  dark  in  the  valley.  Meanwhile, 
we  could  hear  the  galloping  of  cavalry 
quite  distinctly  in  the  same  direction. 

"Mount,  Burke,  and  back  to  the  quar- 
ts er-gen  era  1  !  But  you  need  not,  here  come 
some  of  the  staff." 

"So,  D'Auvergne,"  cried  a  voice  whose 
tones  were  strange  to  me,  "■'they  meditate  a 
night-attack,  it  would  seem— or  is  it  only- 
trying  the  range  of  their  guns  ?  " 

"  I  think  the  latter.  Monsieur  le  Mare- 
chal, for  I  heard  no  small-arms,  and,  even 
now,  all  is  quiet  again." 

"I  believe  you  are  right,"  said  he,  diot- 


442 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


ing  slowly  forward,  while  a  number  of  offi- 
cers followed  at  a  little  distance.  "You 
see,  D'Auvergne,  how  correctly  the  Empe- 
ror judged  their  intentions.  The  brunt  of 
the  battle  will  be  about  Reygern.  But 
there — don't  you  hear  bugles  in  the  val- 
ley ?  " 

As  he  spoke,  the  music  of  our  tirailleurs' 
bugles  arose  from  the  glen  in  front  of  our 
center,  where,  in  a  thick  beech-wood,  the 
light  infantry  regiments  were  posted. 

"  What  ls'it,  D'Esterre  ?"  said  he  to  an 
officer  who  galloped  up  at  the  moment. 

"They  say  the  Russian  guard,  sir,  is 
moving  to  the  front  :  our  skirmishers  have 
orders  to  fall  back  without  firing." 

As  he  heard  this,  the  Marshal  Bernadotte 
— for  it  was  he— turned  his  horse  suddenly 
round,  and  rode  back,  followed  by  his  staff. 
And  now  the  drums  beat  to  quarters  along 
the  line,  and  the  hoarse  trumpets  of  the 
cavalry  might  be  heard  summoning  the 
squadrons  throughout  the  field  ;  while  be- 
tween the  squares,  and  in  the  intervals  of 
the  battalions,  single  horsemen  galloped 
past  with  orders.  Soult's  division,  which 
extended  for  nearly  a  league  to  our  right, 
was  the  first  to  move,  and  it  seemed  like 
one  vast  shadow  creeping  along  the  earth, 
as  column  beside  column  marched  steadily 
onward.  Our  brigade  had  not  as  yet  re- 
ceived orders,  but  the  men  were  in  readi- 1 
ness  beside  the  horses,  and  only  waiting  for 
the  word  to  mount. 

The  suspense  of  the  moment  was  fearful 
— all  that  I  had  ever  dreamed  or  pictured 
to  myself  of  a  soldier's  enthusiasm  was 
faint  and  weak,  compared  to  the  rush  of 
sensations  I  now  experienced.  There  must 
be  a  magic  power  of  ecstasy  in  the  approach 
of  danger — some  secret  sense  of  bounding 
delight,  mingled  with  the  chances  of  a 
battle — that  renders  one  intoxicated  with 
excitement.  Each  booming  gun  I  heard 
sent  a  wild  throb  through  me,  and  I  panted 
for  the  word  "  Forward  !  " 

Column  after  column  moved  past  us,  and 
'disappeared  in  the  dip  of  ground  beneath  ; 
and,  as  we  saw  the  close  battalions  filling 
the  wide  plain  in  front,  we  sighed  to  think 
that  it  was  destined  to  be  the  day  of  glory 
peculiarly  to  the  infantry.  Wherever  the 
nature  of  the  field  permitted  shelter,  or  the 
woods  afforded  cover,  our  troops  were  sent 
immediately  to  occupy!  The  great  ma- 
neuver of  the  day  was  to  be  the  piercing  of 
the  enemy's  center,  whenever  he  should 
weaken  that  point  by  the  endeavor  to  turn 
our  right  flank. 

A  faint  streak  of  gray  light  was  marking 
the  horizon,  when  the  single  guns  which 
we  had  heard  at  intervals  ceased,  and  then, 


after  a  short  pause,  a  long,  loud  roll  of  ar- 
tillery issued  from  the  distant  right,  fol- 
lowed by  the  crackling  din  of  small-arms, 
which  increased  at  every  moment,  and  now 
swelled  into  an  uninterrupted  noise,  through 
which  the  large  guns  pealed  from  time  to 
time.  A  red  glare,  obscured  now  and  then 
by  means  of  black  smoke,  lit  up  the  sky  in 
that  quarter,  where  already  the  battle  was 
raging  fiercely. 

The  narrow  causeway  between  the  two 
small  lakes  in  our  front  conducted  to  an 
open  space  of  ground,  about  a  cannon-shot 
from  the  Russian  line,  and  this  we  were  now 
ordered  to  occupy,  to  be  prepared  to  act  as 
support  to  the  infantry  of  Soult's  left, 
whenever  the  attack  began.  As  we  de- 
bouched into  the  plain,  I  beheld  a  group  of 
horsemen  who,  wrapped  up  in  their  cloaks, 
sat  motionless  in  their  saddles,  calmly  re- 
garding the  squadrons  as  they  issued  from 
the  wood  :  these  were  Murat  and  his  staff, 
to  whom  was  committed  the  attack  on  the 
Russian  Guard.  His  division  consisted  of 
the  hussars  and  chasseurs  under  Keller- 
mann,  the  cuirassiers  of  D'Auvergne,  and 
the  heavy  dragoons  of  Nansouty,  making 
a  force  of  eight  thousand  sabres,  sup- 
ported by  twenty  pieces  of  field  artillery. 
Again  were  we  ordered  to  dismount,  for  al- 
though the  battle  continued  to  rage  on  the 
right,  the  whole  of  the  center  and  left  were 
unengaged. 

Thus  stood  we  as  the  sun  arose — that 
"  Sun  of  Austerlitz  "  so  often  appealed  to 
and, apostrophized  by  Napoleon,  as  gilding 
the  greatest  of  his  glories.  The  mist  from 
the  lakes  shut  out  the  prospect  of  the 
enemy's  lines  at  first,  but  gradually  this 
moved  away,  and  we  could  perceive  the 
dark  columns  of  the  Russians,  as  they  mov- 
ed rapidly  along  the  side  of  the  Pratzen. 
and  continued  to  pour  their  thousands  to- 
ward Reygern. 

At  last  the  roar  of  musketry  swelled  loud- 
er and  nearer,  and  an  officer  galloping  past 
told  us  that  Soult's  right  had  been  called 
up  to  support  Davoust's  division.  This  did 
not  look  well  :  it  proved  the  Russians  had 
pressed  our  lines  closely,  and  we  waited  im- 
patiently to  hear  further  intelligence.  It 
was  evident,  too,  that  our  right  was  suf- 
fering severely,  otherwise  the  attack  on 
the  center  would  not  have,  been  delayed. 
Just  then,  a  wild  cheer  to  the  front  drew 
our  attention  thither,  and  we  saw  the  heads 
of  three  immense  columns — Soult's  division 
— advancing  at  a  run  toward  the  enemy. 

"  Par  St.  Louis,'''  cried  General  d'Au- 
vergne,  as  he  directed  his  telescope  on  the 
Russian  line,  "  those  fellows  have  lost  their 
senses  !  See  if  they  have  not  moved  their 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


443 


artillery  away  from  the  Pratzen,  and  weak- 
ened their  center  more  and  more  !  Soult 
sees  it— mark  how  he  presses  his  columns 
on.  There  they  go,  faster  and  faster,  but 
look  !  there's  a  movement  yonder — the  Rus- 
sians perceive  their  mistake." 

"  Mount  !"  was  now  heard  from  squad- 
ron to  squadron  ;  while  dashing  along  the 
line  like  a  thunderbolt  Murat  rode  far  in 
advance  of  his  staff,  the  men  cheering  him 
as  he  went. 

"  There  ! "  cried  D'Auvergne,  as  he 
pointed  with  his  finger,  "that  column  with 
the  yellow  shoulder-knots  —  that's  Van- 
damme's  hrigade  of  light  infantry.  See 
how  they  rush  on,  eager  to  be  first  up  with 
the  enemy  ;  but  St.  Hilaire's  grenadiers 
have  got  the  start  of  them,  and  are  already 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill — it  is  a  race  between 
them  ! " 

And  so  had  it  become  ;  the  two  columns 
advanced,  cheering  wildly,  while  the  offi- 
cers, waving  their  caps,  led  them  on,  and 
others  rode  along  the  flanks  urging  the  men 
forward.  The  order  now  came  for  our 
squadrons  to  form  in  charging  sections, 
leaving  spaces  for  the  light  artillery  be- 
tween ;  this  done,  we  moved  slowly  for- 
ward at  a  walk,  the  guns  keeping  step  by 
step  beside  us.  A  few  minutes  after,  we 
lost  sight  of  the  attack'ng  columns,  but  the 
crashing  Ire  told  us  they  were  engaged,  and 
that  already  the  great  struggle  had  begun. 
For  above  an  hour  we  remained  thus — every 
stir,  every  loud  word  spoken,  seeming  to 
our  impatience  like  the  order  to  move.  At 
last,  the  squadrons  to  our  right  were  seen 
to  advance,  and  then  a  tremulous  motion 
of  the  Avhole  line  showed  that  the  horses 
themselves  participated  in  the  eagerness  of 
the  moment ;  and,  at  last,  the  word  came 
for  the  cuirassiers  to  move  up.  In  less 
than  a  hundred  yards  we  were  halted  again, 
and  I  heard  an  aide-de-camp  telling  Gen- 
eral d'Auvergne  that  Davoust  had  suffered 
immensely  on  the  right — that  his  division, 
although  reinforced,  had  fallen  back  be- 
hind Reygern — and  all  now  depended  on 
the  attack  of  Soult's  columns. '  I  heard  no 
more,  for  now  the  whole  line  advanced  in 
trot,  and,  as  our  formation  showed  an  un- 
broken front,  the  word  came — "  Faster  !" 
and  "Faster!"  As  we  emerged  from  the 
low  ground  we  saw  Soult's  column  already 
half  way  up  the  ascent ;  they  seemed  like  a 
great  wedge  driven  into  the  enemy's  center, 
which,  opening  as  they  advanced,  presented 
two  surfaces  of  fire  to  their  attack. 

"  The  battery  yonder  has  opened  its  fire 
on  our  line,"  said  D'Auvergne  ;  "we  can- 
not remain  where  we  are." 

"Forward! — Charge!"  came  the  word 


from  front  to  rear,  and  squadron  after 
squadron  dashed  madly  up  t  he  ascent.  The 
one  word  only,  "Charge!"  kepi  ringing 
through  my  head — all  else  was  drowned  in 
the  terrible  din  of  the  advance.  An  Aus- 
trian brigade  of  lighl  cavalry  issued  forth 
as  we  came  up,  but  soon  fell  hack  under  the 
overwhelming  pressure  of  our  force  ;  and 
now  we  came  down  upon  the  squan  -  of  the 
red-brown  Russian  infantry.  Volley  after 
volley  sent  back  our  Leading  squadn 
wounded  and  repulsed,  when,  unlimbering 
with  the  speed  of  lightning,  the  horse  ar- 
tillery poured  in  a  discharge  of  grape-shot. 
The  ranks  wavered,  and  through  their  cleft 
spaces  of  dead  and  dying  our  cuirassiers 
dashed  in,  sabring  all  before  them.  In 
vain  the  infantry  tried  to  form  again  :  suc- 
cessive discharges  of  grape,  followed  by 
cavalry  attacks,  broke  through  their  firm- 
est ranks,  and  at  last  retreating,  tiny  fell 
back  under  cover  of  a  tremendous  batfc 
of  field-guns,  which,  opening  their  fire, 
compelled  us  to  retire  into  the  wood.  }air 
were  we  long  inactive.  Berhadotte's  di- 
vision was  now  engaged  on  our  left,  and  a 
pressing  demand  came  for  cavalry  tc  sup- 
port them.  Again  we  mounted  the  hill, 
and  came  in  sight  of  the  Russian  Guard,  led 
on  by  the  Grand  Duke  Constantine  himself 
— a  splendid  body  of  men,  conspicuous 
for  their  size,  and  the  splendor  of  their 
equipment.  Such,  however,  was  the  im- 
petuous torrent  of  our  attack,  that  they 
were  broken  in  an  instant;  and,  notwith- 
standing their  courage  and  devotion, 
fresh .  masses  of  our  dragoons  kept 
pouring  down  upon  them,  and  they  were 
sabred,  almost  to  a  man.  While  we  were 
thus  engaged,  the  battle  became  general 
from  left  to  right,  and  the  earth  shook  i"- 
neath  the  thundering  sounds  of  two  hun- 
dred great  guns.  Our  position,  for  a  mo- 
ment victorious,  soon  changed,  for,  having 
followed  the  retreating  squadrons  too  far. 
the  waves  closed  behind  us,  and  we  now 
saw  that  a  dense  cloud  of  Austrian  and. 
Russian  cavalry  were  forming  in  our  rear. 
An  instant  of  hesitation  would  have  heen 
fatal.  It  was  then  that  a  tall  and  splendid- 
ly dressed  horseman  broke  from  the  line, 
and,  with  a  cry  to  "Follow  !  "  rode  straight 
at  the  enemy.  If  was  Murat  himself,  sabre 
in  hand,  who,  clearing  his  way  through  the 
Russians,  opened  a  path  for  us.  A  few 
minutes  after,  we  had  gained  the  wood — 
but  one-third  of  our  force  had  fallen. 

"Cavalry  ! — cavalry  !  "  cried  a  field  offi- 
cer, riding  down  at  headlong  speed,  his  face 
covered  with  blood  from  a  sabre-cut,  "to 
the  front  ! " 

The  order  was  given  to  advance  at  a  gal- 


444 


CHARLES,  LEVERS   WORKS. 


lop,  and  we  found  ourselves  next  instant 
hand  to  hand  with  the  Russian  dragoons, 
who,  having  swept  along  the  flank  of  Ber- 
nadotte's  division,  were  sabring  them  on  all 
sides.  On  we  went,  reinforced  by  Nan- 
souty  and  his  carbineers,  a  body  of  nigh 
seven  thousand  men.  It  was  a  torrent  no 
force  could  stem — the  tide  of  victory  was 
with  us,  and  we  swept  along,  wave  after 
wave,  the  infantry  advancing  in  line  for 
miles  at  either  side,  while  whole  brigades 
of  artillery  kept  up  a  murderous  fire  with- 
out ceasing.  Entire  columns  of  the  enemy 
surrendered  as  prisoners — guns  were  cap- 
tured at  each  instant,  and  only  by  a  miracle 
did  the  Grand  Duke  escape  our  hussars, 
who  followed  him  till  he  was  lost  to  view, 
in  the  flying  ranks  of  the  allies.  As  we 
gained  the  crest  of  the  hill,  we  were  in 
time  to  see  Soult's  victorious  columns  driv- 
ing the  enemy  before  them,  while  the  Im- 
perial Guard,  up  to  that  moment  unen- 
gaged, reinforced  the  grenadiers  on  the 
right,  and  broke  through  the  Russians  on 
every  side. 

The  attempt  to  outflank  us  on  the  right 
we  had  perfectly  retorted  on  the  left,  where 
Lannes's  division,  overlapping  the  line, 
pressed  them  on  two  sides,  and  drove  them 
back,  still  fighting,  into  the  plain,  which, 
with  a  lake,  separated  the  allied  armies 
from  the  village  of  Austerlitz  ;  and  here 
took  place  the  most  dreadful  occurrence  of 
the  day.  The  two  roads  which  led  through 
the  lake  were  soon  so  incumbered  and 
blocked  up  by  ammunition  wagons  and 
carts,  that  they  became  impassable  ;  and  as 
the  masses  of  the  fugitives  thickened,  they 
spread  over  the  lake,  which  happened  to  be 
frozen. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  .the  Emperor 
came  up,  and  seeing  the  cavalry  halted, 
and  no  longer  in  pursuit  of  the  flying  col- 
umns, ordered  up  twelve  pieces  of  the  ar- 
tillery of  the  Imperial  Guard,  which,  from 
the  crest  of  the  hill,  opened  a  murderous 
fire  on  them.  The  slaughter  was  fearful 
as  the  discharges  of  grape  and  round  shot 
cut  channels  through  the  jammed-up  mass, 
and  tore  the  dense  columns,  as  it  were,  into 
fragments.  Dreadful  as  the  scene  was, 
what  followed  far  exceeded  it  in  horror  ;■ 
for  soon  the  shells  began  to  explode  be- 
neath the  ice,  which  now,  with  a  succes- 
sion of  reports  louder  than  thunder,  gave 
way.  In  an  instant  Avhole  regiments  were 
ingulfed,  and,  amid  the  wildest  cries  of 
despair,  thousands  sank,  never  to  appear 
again,  while  the  deafening  artillery  merci- 
lessly played  upon  them,  till  over  that 
broad  surface  no  living  thing  was  seen  to 
aiove,  while  beneath  was  the  sepulcher  of 


five  thousand  men.  About  seven  thousand 
reached  Austerlitz  by  another  road,  to  the 
northward  ;  but  even  these  had  not  escaped, 
save  for  a  mistake  of  Bernadotte,  who  most 
unaccountably,  as  it  was  said,  halted  his 
division  on  the  heights.  Had  it  not  been 
for  this,  not  a  soldier  of  the  Russian  right 
wing  had  been  saved* 

The  reserve  cavalry  and  the  dragoons  of 
the  "Guard  "  were  now  called  up  from  the 
pursuit,  and  I  saw  my  own  regiment  pass 
close  by  me,  as  I  stood  amid  the  staff,  round 
Murat.  The  men  were  fresh,  and  eager 
for  the  fray  ;  yet  how  many  fell  in  that 
pursuit,  even  after  the  victory.  The  Rus- 
sian batteries  continued  their  fire  to  the 
last.  The  cannoneers  were  cut  down  be- 
side their  guns,  and  the  cavalry  made  re- 
peated charges  on  our  advancing  squadrons  ; 
nor  was  it  till  late  in  the  day  they  fell  back, 
leaving  two-thirds  of  their  force  dead  or 
wounded  on  the  field  of  battle. 

On  every  side  now  were  to  be  seen  the 
flying  columns  of  the  allies,  hotly  followed 
by  the  victorious  French.  The  guns  still 
thundered  at  intervals;  but  the  loud  roar 
of  battle  was  subdued  to  the  crashing  din 
of  charging  squadrons,  and  the  distant  cries 
of  the  vanquishers  and  the  vanquished. 
Around  and  about  lay  the  wounded,  in  all 
the  fearful  attitudes  of  suffering  ;  and  as 
we  were  fully  a  league  in  advance  of  our 
original  position,  no  succor  had  yet  arrived 
for  the  poor  fellows  whose  courage  had  car- 
ried them  into  the  very  squares  of  the  enemy. 

Most  of  the  staff — myself  among  the 
number — were  dispatched  to  the  rear  for 
assistance.  I  remember,  as  I  rode  along  at 
my  fastest  speed,  between  the  columns  of 
infantry  and  the  fragments  of  artillery, 
which  covered  the  grounds,  that  a  peloton 
of  dragoons  came  thundering  past,  while 
a  voice  shouted  out  "  Place  I  place  !  "  Sup- 
posing it  was  the  Emperor  himself,  I  drew 
up  to  one  side,  and  uncovering  my  head, 
sat  in  patience  till  he  had  passed,  when, 
with  the  speed  of  four  horses  urged  to  their 
utmost,  a  cal.eche  flew  by,  two  men  dressed 
like  couriers  seated  on  the  box.  They  made 
for  the  high-road  toward  Vienna,  and  soon 
disappeared  in  the  distance. 

"  What  can  it  mean  ?  "  said  I  to  an  offi- 
cer beside  me  ;  "  not  his  Majesty,  surely  ?  " 

"No,  no,''  replied  he,  smiling,  "it  is 
General  Lcbrun  on  his  way  to  Paris  with 
the  news  of  the  victory.  The  Emperor  is 
down  at  Reygern  yonder,  where  he  has 
just  written  the  bulletin.  I  warrant  you 
he  follows  that  caleche  with  his  eye  ;  he'd 
rather  see  a  battery  of  guns  carried  off  by 
the  enemy,  than  an  axle  break  there  this 
moment." 


TOM  BURKE   OF  '-OURS." 


445 


Thus  closed  the  great  day  of  Austerlitz — 
a  hundred  cannons,   forty-three   thousand 
prisoners,  and  thirty-two  colors,  being  the] 
spoils  of  this  the  greatest  of  even  Napo- 
leon's victories. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

THE      FIELD      AT      MIDNIGHT. 

We  passed  the  night  on  the  field  of  bat- 
tle— a  night  dark  and  starless.  The  hea- 
vens were,  indeed,  clothed  with  black,  and 
a  heavy  atmosphere,  lowering  and  gloomy, 
spread  like  a  pall  over  the  dead  and  the 
dying  !  Not  a  breath  of  air  moved  ;  and 
the  groans  of  the  wounded  sighed  through 
the  stillness  with  a  melancholy  cadence  no 
words  can  convey  !  Far  away  in  the  dis- 
tance the  moving  lights  marked  where  fa- 
tigue-parties went  in  search  of  their  com- 
rades. The  Emperor  himself  did  not  leave 
the  saddle  till  nigh  morning  ;  he  went,  fol- 
lowed by  an  ambulance,  hither  and  thither 
over  the  plain,  recalling  the  names  of  the 
several  regiments,  enumerating  their  deeds 
of  prowess,  and  even  asking  for  many  of 
the  soldiers  by  name.  He  ordered  large 
fires  to  be  lighted  throughout  the  field,  and 
where  medical  assistance  could  not  be  pro- 
cured, the  officers  of  the  staff  might  be 
seen  covering  the  wounded  with  great-coats 
and  cloaks^  and  rendering  them  such  aid 
as  lay  in  their  power.  Dreadful  as  the 
picture  was — fearful  reverse  to  the  gorgeous 
splendor  of  the  vast  army  the  morning  sun 
had  shone  upon,  in  all  the  pride  of  strength 
and  spirit — yet  even  here  was  there  much 
to  make  one  feel  that  war  is  not  bereft  of 
its  humanizing  influences.  How  many  a 
soldier  did  I  see  that  night,  blackened  with 
powder,  his  clothes  torn  and  ragged  with 
shot,  sitting  beside  a  Avounded  comrade, 
now  wetting  his  lips  with  a  cool  draught, 
now  cheering  his  heart  with  words  of  com- 
fort. Many,  though  wounded,  were  tend- 
ing others  less  able  to  assist  themselves. 
Acts  of  kindness  and  self-devotion — not  less 
in  number  than  those  of  heroism  and  cour- 
age— were  met  with  at  every  step  ;  while 
among  the  sufferers  there  lived  a  spirit  of 
enthusiasm  that  seemed  to  lighten  the 
worst  pangs  of  their  agony.  Many  would 
cry  out,  as  I  passed,  to  know  the  fate  of 
the  day,  and  what  became  of  this  regiment 
or  of  that  battalion.  Others  could  but 
articulate  a  faint  "  Vive  V Empereur  I  " 
which  in  the  intervals  of  pain  they  kept 
repeating,  as  though  it  were  a  charm 
against  suffering  ;  while  one  question  met 
me  every  instant — "What  says  the  Petit 


Caporal  ?  is  he  content  with  us  ':"  Xone 
were  insensible  to  He-  glorious  issue  of  that 
day;  ao]  amid  all  the  agony  of  death,  dealt 
out  in  everj  shape  of  horror  and  misery, 
did  I  hear  one  word  of  anger  or  relink 
him  for  whose  ambition  they  had  shed  their 
heart's  Mood. 

Having    secured    a    fresh    horis  .   I    rode 
forward    in    the    direction    of    Austerlitz, 
where  our  cavalry,  met  by  the  chei  iliers  of 
the  Russian  Imperial  Guard,  sustained 
greatesl   check,  and   t lie  c  iderable 

loss  of  the  < lay.  The  old  dragoon  who 
accompanied  me  warned  me  I  should  find 
few,  if  any,  of  our  comrades  living  there. 
"Ventrebleu!  lieutenanl  !  yon  can't,  ex- 
pect it.  The  first  four  squadrons  went 
down  like  one  man  ;  for  when  our  fellows 
fell  wounded  from  their  horses,  they 
always  sabred  or  shot  them  as  they  law" 

I  found  this  information  hut  too  correct. 
Lines  of  dead  men  lay  beside  their  hor 
ranged  as  they  stood  in  battle,  while  before 
them  lay  the  bodies  of  the  Russian  Guard, 
their  gorgeous  uniform  all  slashed  with 
gold,  marking  them  out  amid  the  dull  rus- 
set costumes  of  their  comrades.  In  many 
places  were  they  intermingled,  and  showed 
where  a  hand-to-hand  combat  had  been 
fought ;  and  I  saw  two,  clasped  rigidly  in 
each  other's  grasp,  who  had  evidently  I 
shot  by  others  while  struggling  for  the 
mastery. 

"  I  told  you,  mon  lieutenant,  it  was  use- 
less to  come  here  ;  this  was  '  a  hi  mort ' 
while  it  lasted  ;  and,  if  it  had  continued 
much  longer  in  the  same  fashion,  it's  hard 
to  say  which  of  us  had  been  going  over  tin- 
field  now  with  lanterns." 

Too  true,  indeed  !  Not  one  wounded 
man  did  we  meet  with,  nor  did  one  human 
voice  break  the  silence  around  us.  "Per- 
haps," said  I,  "they  may  have  already 
carried  up  the  wounded  to  the  village  yon- 
der. I  see  a  great  blaze  of  light  there. 
Ride  forward,  and  learn  if  it  be  so." 

When  I  had  dismissed  the  orderly,  I  dis- 
mounted from  my  horse,  and  walked  care- 
fully along  the  ridge  of  ground,  anxious 
to  ascertain  if  anypoor  fellow  still  remained 
alive  amid  that  dreadful  heap  of  dead.  A 
low  brushwood  covered  the  ground  in  cer- 
tain places,  and  here  1  perceived  but  few 
of  the  cavalry  had  penetrated,  while  the 
infantry  were  all  tirailleurs  of  the  Russian 
Guard,  bayoneted  by  our  advancing  col- 
umns. As  I  approached  the  lake  the 
ground  became  more  rugged  and  uneven, 
and  I  was  about  to  turn  back,  when  my  eye 
caught  the  faint  glimmering  of  a  light 
reflected  in  the  water.  Picketing  my  horse 
where  he  stood,  I  advanced  alone  toward 


446 


CHARLES  LEVEE'S    WORKS. 


the  light,  which  I  saw  now  was  at  the  foot 'the  exertion   brought  on   a  violent  fit  of 


of  a  little  rocky  crag  beside  the  lake.  As 
I  drew  near,  I  stopped  to  listen,  and  could 
distinctly  hear  the  deep  tones  of  ;i  man's 
voice,  as   if  broken   at  intervals  by  pain, 


coughing,  which  choked  Ins  utterance, 
while  a  torrent  of  red  blood  gushed  from 
his  mouth,  and  deluged  his  neck  and  chest. 
"Ah  !  mon  Lieu,  that  cry  has  been  his 


whiie   in   his    accents  I   thought   I   could   death,'7  said  the  other,  wringing  his  hands 
trace   a  tone   of   indignant  passion   rather   in  utter  misery. 

than  of  bodily  suffering.  "Where  is  he  wounded  ?"  said  I,  kneel- 

"  Leave  me,  leave  me  where  I  am,"  cried  !  ing  down  beside  the  sick  man,  who  now 
le,  peevishly.      "  I  thought  I  might  have    lay,  half  on  his  face,  upon  the  grass, 


had  my  last  few  moments  tranquil,  when  I 
staggered  thus  far." 

"  Come,  come,  comrade,"  said  another, 
in  a  voice  of  comforting — "come,  thou 
wert  never  faint-hearted  before.  Thou 
hast  had  thy  share  of  bruises,  and  cared 
little  about  them  too.     Art  dry  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  give  me  another  drink.  Ah  !  " 
cried  he,  in  an  excited  tone,  "  they  can't 
stand  before  the  '  Cuirassiers  of  the  Guard.' 
Sacrebleu !  how  proud  the  Petit  Caporal 
will  be  of  this  day  ! "  Then,  dropping  his 
voice,  he  muttered,  "What  care  I  who's 
proud  ?  I  have  my  billet  and  must  be 
going  ?  " 

"  Not  so,  mon  enfant ;  thou'lt  have  the 
cross  for  thy  day's  work ;  he  knows  thee 
well ;  I  saw  him  smile  to-day  when  thou 
mad'st  the  salute  in  passing." 

"Didst  thou  that?"  said  the  wounded 
man,    with   eagerness.     "Did    he   smile? 


"In  the  chest,  through  the  lung,"  whis- 
pered the  other;  "he  doesn't  know  the 
doctor  saw  him  ;  it  was  he  told  me  there 
was  no  hope.  'You  may  leave  him,' said 
he;  'an  hour  or  two  more  are  all  that's 
left  him  ' — as  if  I  could  leave  a  comrade  we 
all  loved.  My  poor  fellow,  it  is  a  sad  day 
for  the  old  Fourth  when  thou  art  taken 
from  them." 

"Ha!  was  he  of  the  Fourth,  then?" 
said  I,  remembering  the  regiment. 

"Yes,  pa?* bleu !  and  though  but  a  cor- 
poral, he  was  well  known  throughout  the 
army — Pioehe — " 

"Pioche,"  cried  I,  in  agony;  "is  this 
Pioehe  ? " 

"Here,"  said  the  wounded  man,  hearing 
the  name,  and  answering  as  if  on  parade — 
"here,  mon  commandant,  but  too  faint, 
I'm  afraid,  for  duty  ;  I  feel  weak  to-day," 
said  he,  as  he  pressed  his  hand  upon  his 


Ah,  villain  !   how  you  can  allure  men  to  |  side,  and  then  slowly  sank  back  against  the 


shed  their  heart's  blood  by  a  smile.  He 
knows  me  !  That  he  ought,  and  if  he  but 
knew  how  I  lay  here  now,  he'd  send  the 
best  surgeon  of  his  staff  to  look  after  me." 

"That  he  would,  and  that  he  will ;  cou- 
rage and  cheer  up." 

"No,  no;  I  don't  care  for  it  now  ;  I'll 
never  go  back  to  the  regiment  again — I 
couldn't  do  it  !  " 

As  he  spoke  the  last  words  his  voice  be- 
came fainter  and  fainter,  and  at  last  was 
lost  in  a  hiccup — partly,  as  it  seemed,  from 
emotion,  and  partly  from  bodily  suffering. 

"  Qui  vive?"  cried  his  companion,  as 
the  clash  of  my  sabre  announced  my  ap- 
proach. 

"An  officer  of  the  8th  Hussars,"  said  I, 
in  a  low  voice,  fearing  to  disturb  the  wound- 
ed man,  as  he  lay  with  his  head  sunk  on 
his  knees. 

"Too  late,  comrade,  too  late,"  said  he, 
in  a  stifled  tone  ;  "the  order  of  route  has 
come — I  must  avvay." 

"A  brave  cuirassier  of  the  Guard  should 
never  say  so  while  he  has  a  chance  left  to 
serve  his  Emperor  in  another  field  of 
battle." 

"  Vive  T Empefeur  !  vive  V Empereur  !  " 
shouted  he,  madly,  as  he  lifted  his  helmet 
and  tried  to  wave  it  above  his  head ;  but 


rock,  and  dropped  his  arms  at  either  side. 

"  Come,"  said  I,  "  we  must  lose  no  time  ; 
let  us  carry  him  to  the  rear.  If  nothing 
else  can  be  done  he'll  meet  with  care — " 

"Hush,  mon  lieutenant,  don't  let  him 
hear  you  speak  of  that  ;  he  stormed  and 
swore  so  much  when  the  'ambulance' 
passed,  and  they  wanted  to  bring  him 
along,  that  it  brought  on  a  coughing  fit, 
just  like  what  you  saw,  and  he  lay  in  a 
faint  for  half  an  hour  after  ;  he  vows  he'll 
never  stir  from  where  he  is.  Truth  is, 
commandant,"  said  he,  in  the  lowest  whis- 
per, "he  is  determined  to  die;  when  his 
squadron  fell  back  from  the  Russian  square, 
he  rode  on  their  bayonets,  and  cut  at  the 
men  while  the  artillery  was  playing  all 
about  him.  He  told  me  this  morning  he'd 
never  leave  the  field." 

"  Poor  fellow,  what  was  the  meaning  of 
this  sad  resolution  ?" 

"Ma  foi,  a  mere  trifle,  after  all,"  said  the 
other,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  and  making 
a  true  French  grimace  of  contempt ; 
"you'll  smile  when  I  tell  you  ;  but  he 
takes  it  to  heart,  poor  fellow.  His  mistress 
has  been  false  to  him — no  great  matter 
that,  you'd  say — but  so  it  is,  and  nothing 
more.  See  how  still  he  lies  now  ;  is  he 
sleeping  ?  " 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


44? 


"  I  fear  not ;  no  looks  exhausted  from 
loss  of  blood.  Come,  we  must,  have  him 
out  of  this;  here  conns  my  orderly  to 
assist  us.  If  we  carry  him  to  the  road  I'll 
find  a  carriage  of  .some  sort." 

I  said  this  m  a  tone  of  command,  to 
silence  any  scruples  he  might  still  have 
about  obeying  his  comrade,  in  preference 
to  the  orders  of  an  officer,  lie  obeyed  with 
the  instinct  of  discipline,  and  proceeded  to 
fold  his  cloak,  m  such  a  manner  that  we 
could  carry  the  wounded  man  between  us. 

The  poor  corporal,  too  weak  to  resist  us, 
faint  from  bleeding  and  semi-stupid,  suffer- 
ed himself  to  be  lifted  upon  the  cloak,  and 
never  uttered  a  word  or  a  cry,  as  we  bore 
him  along  between  us. 

We  had  not  proceeded  far  when  we  came 
up  with  a  convoy,  conducting  several  carts 
with  the  wounded  to  the  convent  of  Rey- 
gern,  which  had  now  been  fitted  up  as  an 
hospital.  On  one  of  these  we  secured  a 
place  for  our  poor  friend,  and  walked  along 
beside  him  toward  the  convent.  As  we 
went  along,  I  questioned  his  comrade  close- 
ly on  the  point,  and  he  told  me  that  Pioche 
had  resolved  never  to  survive  the  battle, 
and  had  taken  leave  of  his  friends  the  even- 
ing before.  '-Ah,  parbleu!"  added  he, 
with  energy,  "mademoiselle  is  pretty 
enough — there's  no  denying  that — but  her 
head  is  turned  by  flattery  and  soft  speeches  ; 
all  the  gay  young  fellows  of  the  hussar 
regiment,  the  aides-de-camp— ay,  and  some 
of  the  generals,  too — have  paid  her  so 
much  attention,  that  it  could  not  be  ex- 
pected she'd  care  for  a  poor  corporal — not 
but  that  Pioche  is  a  brave  fellow  and  a  fine 
soldier — sacristi!  he'd  be  no  discredit  to 
any  girl's  choice  ;  but  Minette — " 

"  Minette,  the  vivandiere — " 

"Ay,  to  be  sure,  mon  lieutenant — I'd 
warrant  you  must  have  known  her." 

"  What  of  her — where  is  she?"  said  I, 
burning  with  impatience. 

"She's  with  the  wounded,  up  at  Reygern 
yonder.  They  sent  for  her  to  Heilbrunn 
yesterday,  where  she  was  with  the  reserve 
battalions.  Mafoi,  you  don't  think  our  fel- 
lows would  do  without  Minette  at  the  '  am- 
bulance,' where  there  was  a  battle  to  be 
fought.  They  say  they'd  hard  work  enough 
to  make  her  come  up.  After  all,  she's  a 
strange  girl— that  she  is." 

"  How  was  that  ?  Has  she  taken  offense 
with  the  Fourth  ?  " 

"  No,  that  is  not  it ;  she  likes  the  old 
regiment  in  her  heart.  I'd  never  believe 
she  didn't,  but  " — here  he  dropped  his  voice 
to  a  low  whisper,  as  if  dreading  to  be  over- 
heard by  the  wounded  man — "  but  they  say 
— who  knows  if   it's  true — that  when  she 


was  left  behind  at  Vim  or  Elchingen,  or 
somewhere  up  there  on  the  Danube,  that 
there  was  a  young  fellow  I  heard  hi.- name, 
too,  bul  I  forget  it — who  was  brought  in, 
badly  wounded,  and  thai  mademoiselle  was 
left  to  watch  and  nurse  him.  He  gol  well 
in  time,  for  the  thing  was  no!  o  serious  as 
they  though!  ;  and  what  do  you  think  was 
the  return  lie  made  the  poor  girl  '■:  he  se- 
duced her  !  " 

"  It's  false,  false  as  hell  !  "  cried  I,  burst- 
ing with  passion;  "who  has  dared  to 
spread  such  a  calumny  ?" 

"  Don't  be  angry,  mon  lieutenant  ;  there 
are  plenty  to  answer  for  the  report  ;  and  if 
it  was  yourself — " 

••  Yes  ;  it  was  by  my  bedside  she  watched  : 
it  was  to  me  she  gave  that  care  and  kind- 
ness by  which  I  recovered  from  a  danger- 
ous wound  ;  but  so  far  from  this  base  re- 
quital— " 

"Why  did  she  leave  you,  then,  and 
march  night  and  day  with  the  chasseur 
brigade  in  the  Tyrol  ?  Why  did  she  tell 
her  friends  that  she'd  never  see  the  old 
Fourth  again  ?  Why  did  she  fret  herself 
into  an  illness — " 

"Did  she  do  this,  poor  girl  ?  " 

"Ay,  that  she  did  ;  but,  mayhap,  you 
never  heard  of  all  this.  I  can  only  say, 
mon  lieutenant,  that  you'd  be  safer  in  a 
broken  square,  charged  by  a  heavy  squad- 
ron, than  among  the  Fourth,  after  what 
you've  done." 

I  turned  indignantly  from  him  without  a 
reply,  for  while  my  pride  revolted  at  an- 
swering an  accusation  from  such  a  quarter, 
my  mind  was  harassed  by  the  sad  fate  of 
poor  Minette,  and  perplexed  how  to  account 
for  her  sudden  departure.  My  silence  at 
once  arrested  my  companion's  speech,  and 
we  walked  along  the  remainder  of  the  way 
without  a  word  on  either  side. 

The  day  was  just  breaking  when  the  first 
wagon  of  the  convoy  entered  the  gates  of 
the  convent.  It  was  an  enormous  mass  of 
building,  originally  destined  for  the  recep- 
tion of  about  three  thousand  persons  :  for, 
in  addition  to  the  priestly  inhabitants,  there 
were  two  great  hospitals  and  several  schools, 
included  within  the  walls.  This,  before 
the  battle,  had  been  tenanted  by  the  staffs 
of  many  general  officers,  and  the  corps  of 
engineers  andsappers,  butnow  was  entirely 
devoted  to  the  wounded  of  either  army  ;  for 
Austrians  and  Russians  were  everywhere  to 
be  met  with,  receiving  equal  care  and  at- 
tention with  our  own  troops. 

It  was  the  first  time  I  had  witnessed  a 
military  hospital  after  a  battle,  and  the  im- 
pression was  too  fearful  to  be  ever  forgotten 
bv  me. 


448 


CHARLES  LEVERS    WORKS. 


The  great  chambers  and  spacious  rooms 
of  the  con  vcn  i  were  soon  found  inadequate 
for  the  numbers  who  arrived  ;  and  already 
the  long  corridors  and  passages  of  the  build- 
ing were  crowded  with  beds,  between  which 
a  narrow  path  scarcely  permitted  one  person 
to  pass.  Here,  promiscuously,  without  re- 
gard to  rank,  officers  in  command  of  regi- 
ments lay  side  by  side  with  the  meanest 
privates,  waiting  the  turn  of  medical  aid  ; 
as  no  oi  her  order  was  observed  than  the  ne- 
cessities of  each  case  demanded.  A  black 
mark  above  the  bed,  indicating  that  the 
patient's  state  was  hopeless,  proclaimed 
that  no  further  attention  need  be  bestowed; 
while  the  same  mark,  with  a  white  bar 
across  it,  implied  that  it  was  a  case  for  ope- 
ration. In  this  way  the  surgeons  who  ar- 
rived at  each  moment  from  different  corps 
of  the  army,  discovered,  at  a  glance,  where 
their  services  were  required,  and  not  a  mi- 
nute's time  was  lost. 

The  dreadful  operations  of  surgery,  for 
which,  in  the  events  of  every-day  life,every 
provision  of  delicate  secrecy,  and  every  mi- 
nute detail  which  can  alleviate  dread,  are 
so  rigidly  studied,  were  here  going  forward 
on  every  side  ;  the  horrible  preparations 
moved  from  bed  to  bed,  with  a  rapidity 
which  showed  that  where  suffering  so 
abounded,  there  was  no  time  for  sympathy; 
and  the  surgeons,  with  arms  bare  to  the 
shoulder,  and  bedaubed  with  blood,  toiled 
away  as  though  life  no  longer  moved  in  the 
creeping  flesh  beneath  the  knife,  and  human 
agony  spoke  not  aloud  with  every  motion  of 
their  hand. 

"  Place  there — move  forward  !  "  said  an 
hospital  surgeon,  as  they  carried  up  the 
litter  on  which  Pioche  lay  stretched  and 
senseless. 

"  What's  this  ?"  cried  a  surgeon,  leaning 
forward  and  placing  his  hand  on  the  sick 
man's  pulse.  "  Ah  ! — take  him  back  again 
— it's  all  over  there  !" 

"Oh,  no  !"  cried  I,  in  agony,  "it  can 
scarcely  be — they  lifted  him  alive  from  the 
wagon." 

"  He's  not  dead,  sir/'  replied  the  surgeon 
in  a  whisper,  "  but  he  will  soon  he — there's 
internal  bleeeding  going  on  from  that 
wound,  and  a  few  hours,  or  less,  perhaps, 
must  close  the  scene." 

"  Can  nothing  be  done — nothing  ?  " 

"I  fear  not."  He  opened  the  jacket  of 
the  wounded  man  as  he  spoke,  and  slitting 
the  inner  clothes  asunder  with  aquick  stroke 
of  his  scissors,  disclosed  a  tremendous  sabre 
wound  in  the  side.  "That  is  not  the 
worst,"  said  he  ;  "  look  here,"  pointing  to 
a  small  bluish  mark  of  a  bullet-hole  above 
it — "here  lies  the  mischief." 


An  hospital  aid  whispered  something  at 
the  instant  in  the  surgeon's  ear,  to  which 
he  quickly  replied,  "  When  ?  " 

"This  instant,  sir,  the  ligature  slipped, 
and — " 

"  Remove  him,"  was  the  reply.  "  Now, 
sir,  I  have  a  bed  for  your  \<  n  -  fellow  here  ; 
but  I  have  little  hope  to  give  you.  His 
pulse  is  stronger,  otherwise  the  endeavor 
would  be  lost  time." 

While  they  carried  the  litter  forward,  I 
perceived  thai  another  party  were  lifting 
from  a  bed  near  a  figure,  over  whose  face 
the  sheet  was  carelessly  tin  own.  f  guessed 
from  the  gestures  that  the  form  they  lifted 
was  lifeless  ;  the  heavy  sumph  of  the  body 
upon  the  ground  showed  it  beyond  adoubt. 
The  bearers  replaced  the  dead  man  by  the 
dying  body  of  poor  Pioche,  and,  from  a 
vague  feeling  of  curiosity,  I  stooped  down 
and  drew  back  the  sheet  from  the  face  of 
the  corpse.  As  I  did  so,  my  limbs  trembled, 
and  I  leaned  back  almost  fainting  against 
the  wall.  Pale  with  the  pallor  of  death, 
but  scarcely  altered  from  life,  I  beheld  the 
dead  features  of  Amedee  Pichot,  the  cap- 
tain whose  insolence  had  left  an  unsettled 
quarrel  between  us.  The  man,  for  whose 
coming  I  waited  to  expiate  an  open  insult, 
now  lay  cold  and  lifeless  at  my  feet.  What 
a  rush  of  sensations  passed  through  my 
mind  as  I  gazed  oh  that  motionless  mass  ; 
and,  oh,  what  gratitude  my  heart  gushed, 
to  think  that  he  did  not  fall  by  my  hand  ! 

"A  brave  soldier,  but  a  quarrelsome 
friend,"  said  the  surgeon,  stooping  down  to 
examine  the  wound,  with  all  the  indiffer- 
ence of  a  man  who  regarded  life  as  a  mere 
problem.  "It  was  a  cannon-shot  carried 
it  off." 

As  he  said  this  he  disclosed  the  mangled 
remains  of  a  limb,  torn  from  the  trunk  too 
high  to  permit  of  amputation.  "  Poor  Ame- 
dee, it  was  the  death  he  always  wished  for. 
It  was  a  strange  horror  he  had  of  falling 
by  the  hand  of  an  adversary,  rather  than 
being  carried  off  thus  ;  and  now  for  the 
cuirassier." 

So  saying,  he  turned  toward  the  bed  on 
which  Pioche  lay,  still  as  death  itself.  A 
few  minutes'  careful  investigation  of  the 
case  enabled  him  to  pronounce  that  al- 
though the  chances  were  many  against 
recovery,  yet  it  was  not  altogether  hopeless. 

"All  will  depend  on  the  care  of  whoever 
watches  him,"  said  the  surgeon.  "  Symp- 
toms will  arise,  requiring  prompt  attention, 
and  a  change  in  treatment,  and  this  is  one 
of  those  cases  where  a  nurse  is  worth  a 
hundred  doctors.  Who  takes  charge  of  this 
bed  ?"  he  called  aloud. 

"  Mmette,  monsieur,"  said   a   sergeant 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS. 


449 


"She  has  lain  down  to  take  a  little  rest, 
for  she  was  quite  worn  out  with   fatigue." 

" Me  void!"  said  a  silvery  voice  I  knew 
at  once  to  he  hers;  and  the  same  instant 
she  pierced  the  crowd  around  the  bed,  and 
approached  the  patient.  No  sooner  had 
she  beheld  the  features  of  the  sick  man, 
than  she  reeled  back,  and  grasped  the  arms 
of  the  persons  on  either  side.  For  a  few 
seconds  she  stood,  with  her  hands  pressed 
upon  her  face,  and  when  she  withdrew 
them,  her  features  were  almost  ghastly  in 
their  hue,  while,  with  a  great  effort  over 
her  emotion,  she  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "  Can 
he  recover  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Minette,"  replied  the  surgeon, 
"and  will,  if  care  avail  anything.  Just 
hear  me  for  a  moment." 

With  that  he  drew  her  to  one  side,  and 
commenced  to  explain  the  treatment  he 
proposed  to  adopt.  As  he  spoke,  her  cloak, 
which  up  to  this  instant  she  wore,  dropped 
from  her  shoulders,  and, she  stood  there  in 
the  dress  of  the  vivandiere — a  short  frock 
coat,  of  light  blue,  with  a  thin  gold  braid 
upon  the  collar  and  the  sleeve  —  loose 
trowsers  of  white  jean,  strapped  beneath, 
her  boots.  A  silk  sash  of  scarlet  and  gold 
intwined  v/as  fastened  round  her  waist, 
and  fell  in  a  long  fringe  at  her  side  ;  while 
a  cap  of  blue  cloth,  with  a  gold  band  and 
tassel,  hung  by  a  hook  at  her  girdle.  Simple 
as  was  the  dress,  it  displayed  to  perfection 
the  symmetry  of  her  figure  and  her  car- 
riage, and  suited  the  character  of  her 
air  and  gesture,  which,  abrupt  and  impa- 
tient at  times,  was  almost  boyish  in  the 
wayward  freedom  of  her  action. 

The  surgeon  soon  finished  his  directions, 
the  crowd  separated,  and  Minette  alone  re- 
mained by  trie  sick  man's  bed.  For  some 
minutes  her  cares  did  not  permit  her  to 
look  up,  but  when  she  did,  a  slight  cry 
broke  from  her,  and  she  sank  down  upon 
the  seat  at  the  bedside. 

"Minette,  dear  Minette,  you  are  not  angry 
with  me  ?  "  said  I,  in  a  low  and  trembling 
tone  ;  "  I  have  not  done  aught  to  displease 
you — have  I  so  ?  " 

She  answered  not  a  word,  but  a  blush  of 
the  deepest  scarlet  suffused  her  face  and 
temples,  and  her  bosom  heaved  almost  con- 
vulsively. 

"To  you  I  owe  my  life,"  continued  I, 
with  earnestness;  "nay  more,  I  owe  the 
kindness  which  made  of  a  sick  bed  a  place 
of  pleasant  thoughts  and  happy  memories. 
Can  I,  then,  have  offended  you,  while  my 
whole  heart  was  bursting  with  gratitude  ?" 

A  paleness — more  striking  than  the  blush 
that  preceded  it — now  stole  over  her  fea- 
tures, but  she  uttered  not  a  word.  Her 
vol,  i—29 


eyes  turned  from  me  and  fell  upon  her  own 
figure,  and  I  saw  the  tears  Mil  up  and  roll 
slowly  along  her  cheeks. 

"  Why  did  you  leave  me,  Minette,"   -aid 
I,  wound  up  by  ber  obstinate  silence  be 
yond    further   endurance.      "Did    the  few 
words  of  impatience—" 

"No — no — no!"  broke  she  in,  "not 
thai — not  that." 

"What  then?  Tell  me,  for  Heaven's 
sake,  how  have  1  earned  your  displeasure  ? 
Believe  me,  I  have  met  with  too  little  kind- 
ness in  niv  way  through  life,  no!  to  feel 
poignantly  the  loss  of  a  friend.  What  was 
it,  I  beseech  you  ?  " 

"Oh,  do  not  ask  me  !"  cried  she,  with 
streaming  eyes — "do  not,  I  beg  of  you  ; 
enough  that  you  know,  and  this  1  swear  to 
you,  that  no  fault  of  yours  was  in  question. 
You  were  always  good  and  always  kind  to 
me — too  kind — too  good — but  not  even  your 
teaching  could  alter  the  waywardness  of  my 
nature.  Speak  of  this  no  more,  I  ask  you, 
as  the  greatest  favor  you  can  bestow  on  me. 
See  here,"  cried  she,  while  her  lips  trem- 
bled with  emotion,  "I  have  need  of  all  my 
courage  to  be  of  use  to  him,  and  you  will 
not,  I  am  sure,  render  me  unequal  to  my 
task." 

"  But  we  are  friends,  Minette — friends  as 
before,"  said  I,  taking  her  hand,  and  press- 
ing it  within  mine. 

"Yes,  friends,"  muttered  she,  in  a 
broken  voice,  while  she  turned  her  head 
from  me.     "  Adieu  !  monsieur,  adieu  !  " 

"Adieu,  then,  since  you  wish  it  so, 
Minette  ;  but  whatever  your  secret  reason 
for  this  change  toward  me,  you  never  can 
alter  the  deep-rooted  feeling  of  my  heart, 
which  makes  me  know  myself  your  friend 
forever." 

The  more  I  thought  of  Minette's  conduct, 
the  more  puzzled  i  was.  No  jealousy  on 
the  part  of  Pioche  could  explain  her  abrupt 
departure  from  Elchingen,  and  her  lesolve 
never  to  rejoin  the  Fourth.  She  was,  in- 
deed, a  strange  girl,  wayward  and  self- 
willed,  but  her  impulses  all  had  their  source 
in  high  feelings  of  honor  and  exalted  pride. 
It  might  have  been,  that  some  chance  ex- 
pression had  given  her  offense  ;  yet  she 
denied  this — but  still,  her  former  frankness 
was  gone,  and  a  sense  of  coldness,  if  not 
distrust,  had  usurped  its  place.  I  could 
make  nothing  of  it.  One  thing  alone  did  I 
feel  convinced  of — she  did  not  love  Pioche. 
Poor  fellow,  with  all  the  fine  traits  of  his 
honest  nature,  and  manly  simplicity  and 
openness  of  his  character,  he  had  not  those 
arts  of  pleasing  which  win  their  way  with 
a  woman's  mind ;  besides  that  Minette, 
from  habit  and  tone  of  thought,  had  im- 


450 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


bibed  feelings  and  ideas  of  a  very  different 
class  in  society,  and,  with  a  feminine  tact, 
had  contrived  to  form  acquaintance  with, 
and  a  relish  for,  the  tastes  and  pleasures  of 
the  cultivated  world.  The  total  subver- 
sion of  all  social  order  effected  by  the  Revo- 
lution, had  opened  the  path  of  ambition  in 
life  equally  to  women  as  to  men;  and  all 
the  endeavors  of  the  Consulate  and  the 
Empire  had  not  sobered  down  the  minds  of 
France  to  their  former  condition.  The 
sergeant,  to-day,  saw  no  reason  why  he 
might  not  wear  his  epaulettes  to-morrow, 
and  in  time  exchange  his  shako  even  for  a 
crown  ;  and  so  the  vivandiere,  whose  life 
was  passed  in  the  intoxicating  atmosphere 
of  glory,  might  well  dream  of  greatness 
which  should  be  hers,  hereafter,  and  of  the 
time  when,  as  the  wife  of  a  marshal  or  a 
peer  of  France,  she  would  walk  the  salons 
of  the  Tuileries  as  proudly  as  the  daughter 
of  a  Rohan  or  a  Tavanuo. 

There  was,  then,  nothing  vain  or  pre- 
sumptuous in  the  boldest  flight  of  ambition. 
However  glittering  the  goal,  it  was  beyond 
the  reach  of  none ;  and  the  hopes  which, 
in  better-ordered  communities,  had  been 
deemed  absurd,  seemed  here  but  fair  and 
reasonable.  And  from  this  element  alone 
proceeded  some  of  the  greatest  actions,  and 
by  far  the  greatest  portion  of  the  unhappi- 
ness  of  the  period.  The  mind  of  the  nation 
was  unfixed  ;  men  had  not  as  yet  resolved 
themselves  into  those  grades  and  classes,  by 
the  means  of  which  public  opinion  is  brought 
to  bear  upon  individuals,  from  those  of  "his 
own  condition.  Each  was  a  law  unto  him- 
self, suggesting  his  own  means  of  advance- 
ment, and  estimating  his  own  powers  of 
success  ;  and  the  result  was,  a  general  scram- 
ble for  rank,  dignity,  and  honors,  the  un- 
fitness of  the  possessor  for  which,  when  at- 
tained, brought  neither  contempt  nor  de- 
rision. The  epaulette  was  noblesse — the 
shako,  a  coronet.  What  wonder,  then,  if 
she,  whose  personal  attractions  were  so 
great,  and  whose  manners  and  tone  of 
thought  were  so  much  above  her  condition, 
had  felt  the  stirrings  of  that  ambition  with- 
in her  heart  which  now  appeared  to  be  the 
moving  spirit  of  the  nation. 

Lost  in  such  thoughts  I  turned  homeward 
toward  my  quarters,  and  was  already  some 
distance  from  the  convent,  when  a  dragoon 
galloped  up  to  my  side,  and  asked  eagerly 
if  I  were  the  surgeon  of  the  Sixth  Grena- 
diers. As  I  replied  in  the  negative,  he  mut- 
tered something  between  his  teeth,  and 
added  louder,  ''The  poor  general — it  will 
be  too  late  after  all."  So  saying,  and  be- 
fore I  could  question  him  further,  he  set 
spurs   to  his  horse,   and  dashing  onward, 


soon  disappeared  in  the  darkness  of  the 
night.  A  few  minutes  afterward  I  beheld 
a  number  of  lanterns  straight  before  me  on 
the  narrow  road,  and,  as  I  came  nearer,  a 
sentinel  called  out, 

"Halt  there;  stand  !" 

I  gave  my  name  and  rank,  when  the  man,' 
advancing  toward  me,  said,  in  a  half 
whisper, 

"  It  is  our  general,  sir  ;  they  say  he  can- 
not be  brought  any  further,  and  they  must 
perform  the  operation  here." 

The  soldier's  voice  trembled  at  every 
word,  and  he  could  scarcely  falter  out,  in 
reply  to  my  question,  the  name  of  the 
wounded  officer. 

"  General  St.  Hilairc,  sir,  who  led  the 
grenadiers  on  the  Pvatzen,"  said  the  poor 
fellow,  his  sorrow  struggling  with  his 
pride. 

I  pressed  forward,  and  there,  on  a  litter, 
lay  the  figure  of  a  large  and  singularly  fine- 
looking  man.  His.  coat,  which  was  covered 
with  orders,  lay  open,  and  discovered  a  shirt 
stained  and  clotted  with  blood ;  but  his 
most  dangerous  wound  was  from  a  grape- 
shot  in  the  thigh,  which  shattered  the  bone, 
and  necessitated  amputation,  A  young 
staff  surgeon,  the  only  medical  man  present, 
was  kneeling  at  his  side,  and  occupied  in 
compressing  some  wounded  vessels  to  arrest 
the  bleeding,  which,  at  the  slightest  stir  of 
the  patient,  broke  out  anew.  The  remain- 
der of  the  group  were  grenadiers  of  his  own 
regiment,  in  whose  sad  and  sorrow-struck 
faces  one  might  read  thc-affection  his  men 
invariably  bore  him. 

"Is  he  coming  ?  Can  you  hear  any  one 
coming  ? "  said  the  young  surgeon,  in  an 
anxious  whisper  to  the  soldier  beside  him. 

"No,  sir,  but  he  cannot  be  far  off  now," 
replied  the  man. 

"Shall  I  ride  back  to  Reygern  for  as- 
sistance ? "  said  I,  in  a  low  voice,  to  the 
surgeon . 

"I  thank  you,  sir,"  said  the  wounded 
man,  in  a  low,  calm  tone — for  with  the 
quick  ear  of  suffering  he  had  overheard  my 
question— r-"  I  thank  you,  but  my  orderly 
has  already  been  sent  thither.  If  you  could 
relieve  my  young  friend  here  from  his  fa- 
tiguing duty  for  a  little,  you  would  render 
us  both  a  service — I  am  truly  grieved  to  see 
him  so  much  exhausted." 

"No,  no,  sir,"  stammered  the  youth,  as 
the  tears  ran  fast  down  his  cheeks,  "this  is 
my  place  ;  I  will  not  leave  it." 

"  Kind  fellow,"  muttered  the  General,  as 
he  pressed  his  hand  gently  on  the  young 
man's  arm,  "lean  bear  this  better  than 
you  can." 

"Ah,  here  he  comes  now,"  said  the  sen- 


TOM  BURKE  .OF  "OURS." 


451 


tinel,  and  the  same  moment  a  man  dis- 
mounted from  his  horse,  and  came  forward 
toward  us.  It  was  Louis,  the  surgeon  of 
the  Emperor  himself,  dispatched-  by  Napo- 
leon the  moment  he  heard  of  the  event. 

At  any  other  moment,  perhaps,  the 
abrupt  demeanor  of  this  celebrated  Burgeon 
would  have  savored  little  of  delicacy  or  feel- 
ing,, nor  even  then  could  I  forgive  the  sud- 
den announcement  in  which  he  conveyed  to 
the  sufferer  that  immediate  amputation 
must  be  performed. 

"No  chance  left  but  this,  Louis  ?  "  said 
the  General. 

"None,  sir,"  replied  the  doctor,  while 
he  unlocked  an  instrument  case,  and  busied 
himself  in  preparation  for  the  operation. 

"  Can  you  defer  it  a  little — an  hour  or 
two  I  mean  ?  " 

"  An  hour,  perhaps,  not  more,  certainly." 

"  But  am  I  certain  of  your  services  then, 
Louis  ?  "  said  the  General,  trying  to  smile. 
"  You  know  I  always  promised  myself  your 
aid  when  this  hour  came." 

"  I  shall  return  in  an  hour,"  replied  the 
Doctor,  pulling  out  his  watch  ;  "I  am  go- 
ing to  Rapp's  quarters. " 

"  Poor  Rapp  ;  is  he  wounded  ?  " 

"  A  mere  sabre-cut ;  but  Sebastiani  has 
suffered  •  more  severely.  Now  then,  La- 
nusse,"  said  he,  addressing  the  young  sur- 
geon, "  you  remain  here — continue  as  you 
are  doing,  and  in  an  hour — " 

"  In  an  hour,"  echoed  the  wounded  man, 
with  a  shudder,  as  though  the  anticipation 
of  the  dreadful  event  had  thrilled  through 
his  very  heart  ;  nor  was  it  till  the  retiring 
sounds  of  the  surgeon's  horse  had  died  away 
in  the  distance,  that  his  features  recovered 
their  former  calm  and  tranquil  expression. 

"A  prompt  fellow  is  Louis,"  said  he,  af- 
ter a  pause,  "  and  though  one  might  like 
somewhat  more  courtesy  in  the  Faubourg, 
yet  on  the  field  of  battle  it  is  all  for  the  best ; 
this  is  no  place  nor  time  for  compliments. " 

The  young  man  answered  not  a  word, 
either  not  daring  to  criticise  too  harshly 
his  superior,  or,  perhaps,  his  emotion  at 
the  moment  was  too  strong  for  utterance. 
In  reply  to  my  offer  to  remain  with  him, 
however,  he  thanked  me  heartily,  and  seem- 
ed gratified  that  he  was  not  to  be  left 
alone  in  such  a  trying  emergency. 

"Come,"  said  St.  Hilaire,  after  a  pause, 
"  I  have  asked  for  time,  and  am  already 
forgetting  how  to  employ  it.  Who  can 
write  here  ?     Can  you,  Guilbert  ?  " 

"Alas  !  no,  sir,"  said  a  dark  grenadier, 
blushing  to  the  very  eyes. 

"  If  you  will  permit  a  stranger,  sir,"  said 
I,  "  I  will  be  but  too  proud  and  too  happy  to 
render  you  any  assistance  in  my  power.     I 


am   on   the  staff   of   General  d'Auvergne, 
and—" 

"A  French  officer,  sir,"  interrupted  ho  . 
"  quite  enough  ;  I  ask  for  no  other  guerdon 
of  your  honor.  Sit  down  here,  then,  and 
— but  first  try  if  you  can  discover  a  pocket- 
book  in  my  sabretasche  ;  I  hope  it  has  not 
been  lost." 

"Here  it  is,  General,"  said  a  soldier, 
coming  forward  with  it  ;  "I  found  it  on  the 
ground  beside  you.' 

'•  Well,  then.  I  will  ask  you  to  write 
down  from  my  dictation  a  few  lines,  which, 
should  this  affair" — he  faltered  slightly 
here — "this  affair  prove  unfortunate,  you 
will  undertake  to  convey,  by  some  means  or 
other,  to  the  address  1  shall  give  you  in 
Paris.  It  is  not  a  will,  I  assure  you,"  con- 
tinued he,  with  a  faint  smile.  "  I  have  no 
wealth  to  leave  ;  but  I  know  his  Majesty 
too  well  to  fear  anything  on  that  score  ;  but 
my  children,  I  wish  to  give  some  few 
directions — "  Here  he  stopped  for  several 
minutes,  and  then,  in  a  calm  voice,  added  : 
"  Whenever  you  are  ready." 

It  was  with  a  suffering  spirit  and  a  fal- 
tering hand  I  wrote  down,  from  his  dicta- 
tion, some  short  sentences,  addressed  to 
each  member  of  his  family.  Of  these  it  is 
not  my  intention  to  speak,  save  in  one  in- 
stance, where  St.  Hilaire  himself  evinced  a 
wish  that  his  sentiments  should  not  be  a 
matter  of  secrecy. 

"I  desire,"  said  he,  in  a  firm  tone  of 
voice,  as  he  turned  round  and  addressed 
the  soldiers  on  either  side  of  him — "  I  de- 
sire that  my  son,  now  at  the  Polytechnique. 
should  serve  the  Emperor  better  than,  and 
as  faithfully  as,  his  father  has  done,  if  his 
Majesty  will  graciously  permit  him  to  do 
so,  in  the  grenadier  battalion,  which  I  have 
long  commanded  ;  it  will  be  the  greatest 
favor  I  can  ask  of  him."  A  low  murmur 
of  grief,  no  longer  repressible,  ran  through 
the  little  group  around  the  litter.  "  The 
Grenadiers  of  the  Sixth,"  continued  he, 
proudly,  while  for  an  instant  his  pale  fea- 
tures flushed  up,  "will  not  love -him  the  less 
for  the  name  he  bears.  Come,  come,  men, 
do  not  give  way  thus  ;  what  will  my  kind 
young  friend  here  say  of  us,  when  he  joins 
the  hussar  brigade  ?  This  is  not  their  or- 
dinary mood,  believe  me,"  said  he,  address- 
ing me.  "  The  Russian  Guard  would  give 
a  very  different  account  of  them  ;  they  are 
stouter  fellows  at  the  ' pas  cle  charge  '  than 
around  the  litter  of  a  wounded  comrade." 

While  he  was  yet  speaking,  Louis  return- 
ed, followed  by  two  officers,  one  of  whom, 
notwithstanding  his  efforts  at  concealment, 
I  recognized  to  be  Marshal  Murat. 

"We  must  remove  him,  if  it  be  possible," 


452 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


said  the  surgeon,  in  a  whisper  ;  "and  yet 
the  slightest  motion  is  to  be  dreaded.'' 

"May  I  speak  to  him  ?"  said  Murat,  in 
a  low  voice. 

"Yes,  that  you  may,"  replied  Louis, 
who  now  pushed  his  way  forward  and  ap- 
proached the  litter. 

"  Ah,  so  soon  !  "  said  the  wounded  man, 
looking  up  ;  "a  man  of  your  word,  Louis. 
And  how  is  Eapp  ?  Nothing  in  this  fash- 
ion, I  hope,"  added  he,  pointing  to  his 
fractured  limb  with  a  sickly  smile. 

"No,  no,"  replied  the  surgeon;  "hut 
here  is  Marshal  Murat  come  to  inquire  af- 
ter you,  from  the  Emperor." 

A  flush  of  pride  lit  up  St.  Hilaire's  fea- 
tures as  he  heard  this,  and  he  asked 
eagerly,  "Where — where  ?" 

"We  must  remove  you,  St.  Hilaire," 
said  Murat,  endeavoring  to  speak  calmly, 
when  it  was  evident  his  feelings  were  high- 
ly excited  ;  "  Louis  says  you  must  not  re- 
main li  ere." 

"As  you  like,  marshal.  What  says  his 
Majestv — is  the  affair  as  decisive  as  he 
looked' for  ?  " 

"  Far  more  so  ;  the  allied  army  is  de- 
stroyed— the  campaign  is  ended." 

"Come,  then,  this  is  not  so  bad  as  I 
deemed  it,"  rejoined  St.  Hilaire,  with  a 
tone  of  almost  gayety  ;  "  I  can  afford  to  be 
invalided  if  the  Emperor  has  no  further 
occasion  for  me." 

While  these  few  words  were  interchang- 
ing, Louis  had  applied  a  tourniquet  around 
the  wounded  limb,  and  having  given  the 
soldiers  directions  Iioav  they  were  to  step, 
so  as  not  to  disturb  or  displace  the  shat- 
tered bones,  he  took  his  place  beside  the 
litter,  and  said, 

"  We  are  ready  now,  general." 

They  lifted  the  litter  as  he  spoke,  and 
moved  slowly  forward.  Murat  pressed  the 
hand  St.  Hilaire  extended  to  him  without 
a  word ;  and  then,  turning  his  head  away, 
suffered  the  party  to  pass  on. 

Before  we  reached  Reygern,  the  wounded 
general  had  fallen  into  a  heavy  sleep,  from 
which  he  did  not  awake  as  they  laid  him 
on  the  bed  in  the  hospital. 

"  Good-night,  sir,  or  rather  good-morn- 
ing," said  Louis  to  me,  as  1  turned  to  leave 
the  spot ;  "Ave  may  chance  to  have  better 
news  for  you  than  we  anticipated,  when 
you  visit  us  here  again." 

And  so  we  parted. 


CHAPTER  L. 

A    "MAITRE    D'ARMES." 

Tiie  day  after  the  battle  of  Austerlitz  the 
Prince  of  Lichtenstein  arrived  in  our  camp, 


with,  as  it  was  rumored,  proposals  for  a 
peace.  The  negotiations,  whatever  they 
were,  were  strictly  secret,  not  even  the 
marshals  themselves  being  admitted  to  Na- 
poleon's confidence  on  this  occasion.  Soon 
after  mid-day,  a  great  body  of  the  Guard 
who  had  been  in  reserve  the  previous  day, 
were  drawn  up  in  order  of  hat  lie.  present- 
ing an  array  of  several  thousand  men, 
whose  dress,  look,  and  equipment — fresh  as 
if  on  parade  before  the  Tuileries — could 
not  fail  to  strike  tlie  Austrian  envoy  with 
amazement.  Everything  that  could  indi- 
cate the  appearance  of  suffering,  or  even 
fatigue,  among  the  troops,  was  sedulously 
kept  out  of  view.  Such  of  (lie  cavalry  regi- 
ments as  suffered  least  in  the  battle  were 
under  arms,  while  the  generals  of  division 
received  orders  to  have  their  respective 
stairs  fully  equipped  and  mounted,  as  if  on 
a  day  of  review.  It  was  late  in  the  after- 
noon when  the  word  was  passed  along 
the  lines  to  stand  to  arms ;  and  the  mo- 
ment after  a  caliche,  drawn  by  six  horses, 
passed  in  full  gallop,  and  took  the  road 
toward  Austerlitz.  The  return  of  the 
Austrian  envoy  set  a  thousand  conjectures 
in  motion,  and  all  were  eager  to  find  out 
what  had  been  the  result  of  his  mission. 

"Wo  must  soon  learn  it  all,"  sard  an  old 
colonel  of  artillery  near  me  ;  "  if  the  game  be 
war,  we  shall  be  called  up  to  assist  Da- 
voust's  movement  on  Coding.  The  Rus- 
sians have  but  one  line  of  retreat,  and  that 
is  already  in  our  possession." 

"  I  cannot  for  the  life  of  me  understand 
the  Emperor's  inaction,"  said  a  younger 
officer  ;  "  here  we  remain  just  as  if  nothing 
had  been  done.  One  would  suppose  that  a 
Russian  army  stood  in  full  force  before  us, 
and  that  we  had  not  gained  a  tremendous 
battle." 

"  Depend  on  it,  Auguste,"  said  the  old 
officer,  smiling,  "his  Majesty  is  not  the 
man  to  let  slip  his  golden  opportunities. 
If  we  don't  advance,  it  is  because  it  is  safer 
to  remain  where  we  are." 

"  Safer  than  pursue  a  flying  enemy  ?  " 

"Even  so — it  is  not  Russia,  nor  Austria, 
we  have  in  the  field  against  us,  but  Europe 
— the  world." 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  retorted  the  other, 
boldly.  "Nor  do  I  think  the  odds  unfair  ; 
all  I  would  ask  is,  the  General  Bonaparte 
of  Cairo  or  Marengo,  and  not  the  purple- 
clad  Emperor  of  the  Tuileries." 

"It  is  not  while  the  plain  is  yet  reeking 
with  the  blood  of  Austerlitz  that  such  a 
reproach  should  be  spoken,"  said  I,  indig- 
nantly ;  "never  was  Bonaparte  greater 
than  Napoleon." 

"  Monsieur  has  served  in  Egypt?"  said 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


453 


the  young  man,  contemptuously,  while  he 
measured  me  from  head  to  foot. 

"Would  that  I  had!— would  that  I 
could  give  whatever  years  I  may  have 
before  me,  for  those  whose  every  day  shall 
live  in  history  ! " 

"You  are  right,  young  man,"  said  the 
old  Colonel ;  "  they  were  glorious  times, 
and  a  worthy  prelude  to  the  greatness  that 
followed  them." 

"A  bright  promise  of  the  future — never 
to  come,'''  rejoined  the  younger,  with  a 
flash  of  anger  on  his  cheek. 

"  Par bleu,  sir,  you  speak  boldly  !  "  said 
a  '  harsh,  low  voice  from  behind.  We 
turned — it  was  Napoleon,  dressed  in  a  gray 
coat,  all  covered  with  fur,  and  looking  like 
one  of  the  couriers  of  the  army.  "  1  did 
not  know  my  measures  were  so  freely  can- 
vassed as  I  find  them.  Who  are  you, 
sir  ?  " 

"  Legrange,  sire,  chef  d'escadron  of  the 
Second  Voltigeurs,"  said  the  young  man, 
trembling  from  head  to  foot,  while  he 
uncovered  his  head,  and  stood,  cap  in 
hand,  before  him. 

"  Since  when,  sir,  have  I  called  you  into 
my  counsels,  and  asked  your  advice  ?  or 
what  is  it  in  your  position  which  entitles  you 
to  question  one  in  mine  ?  Duroc,  come 
here — your  sword,  sir." 

The  young  man  let  fall  his  shako  from 
his  hand,  and  laid  it  on  his  sword-hilt. 
"Ah!"  cried  the  Emperor,  suddenly; 
"  what  became  of  your  right  arm  ?" 

"  I  left  it  at  Aboukir,  sire." 

Napoleon  muttered  something  between 
his  teeth,  then  added,  aloud,  "  Come,  sir, 
you  are  not  the  first  whose  hand  has  saved 
his  head;  return  to  your  duty,  and — mark 
me  ! — be  satisfied  with  doing  yours,  and 
leave  me  to  mine.  And  you,  sir,"  said  he, 
turning  toward  me  and  using  the  same 
harsh  tone  of  voice,  "I  should  know  your 
face." 

"  Lieutenant  Burke,  of  the  8th  Hus- 
sars." 

"  Ah  !  I  remember — the  Chouanist  ;  so, 
sir,  it  seems  that  I  stand  somewhat  higher 
in  your  esteem  than  when  you  kept  com- 
panv  with  Messieurs  Georges  and  Pichegru 
—eh  ?  " 

"No,  sire;  your  Majesty  ever  occupied 
the  first  place  in  my  admiration  and  devo- 
tion.". 

"  Sacristi  !  then  you  took  a  strange  way 
to  show  it,  when  first  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
your  acquaintance.  You  are  on  General 
St.  Hilaire's  staff  ?" 

"  General  d'Auvergne's,  sire." 

"  True.  D'Auvergne,  a  word  with  you." 
He  turned  and  whispered  something  to  the 


old  general,  who  during  the  whole  col- 
loquy stood  at  his  back,  anxious,  but  not 
daring  to  interpose  a  word. 

"  Well,  well,"  Baid  Napoleon,  in  a  voice 
of  much  kinder  accent,  "  I  am  satisfied  ; 
your  general,  sir,  reports  favorably  of  your 
zeal  and  capacity.  I  do  not  desire  to  let 
your  former  conduct  prove  any  bar  to  your 
advancement,  and  on  his  recommendation, 
of  which  I  trust  you  may  prove  yourself 
worthy,  I  name  you  to  a  troop  in  your  own 
regiment." 

"  And  still  to  serve  on  my  staff  ?  "  said  the 
General,  half  questioning  the  Emperor. 

"As  you  wish  it,  d'Auvergne."  With 
that  he  moved  forward  ere  I  could  do  more 
than  express  my  gratitude  by  a  respectful 
bow. 

"  T  told  you,  Burke,  the  time  would 
come  for  this,**  said  d'Auvergne,  as  he 
pressed  my  hand  warmly,  and  followed  the 
cortege  of  the  Emperor. 

Hitherto  I  had  lived  an  almost  isolated 
life  :  my  staff  duties  had  so  separated  me 
from  my  brother  officers  that  I  only  knew 
them  by  name  ;  while  the  other  aides-de- 
camp of  the  general  were  men  much  older 
than  myself,  and  with  none  of  them  had  I 
formed  any  intimacy  whatever.  It  was  not 
without  a  sense  of  this  loneliness  that  I 
now  thought  over  my  promotion.  The 
absence  of  those  who  sympathize  with  our 
moments  of  joy  and  sorrow  reduces  our 
enjoyment  to  a  narrow  limit  indeed.  The 
only' one  of  all  I  knew  who  would  really 
have  felt  happy  in  my  advancement  was 
poor  Pioche.  He  was  beyond  every  thought 
of  pleasure  or  grief.  'Thus  reflecting,  I 
turned  toward  my  quarters  at  Brunn.  It 
was  evening  :  the  watch-fires  were  lighted, 
and  round  them  sat  groups  of  soldiers  at 
their  supper,  chatting  away  pleasantly,  and 
recounting  the  events  of  the  battle.  Many 
had  been  slightly  wounded,  and  by  their 
bandaged  foreheads  and  disabled  arms 
claimed  a  marked  pre-eminence  above  the 
rest.  A  straw  bivouac,  with  its  great  blazing 
fire  in  front,  would  denote  some  officer's 
quarters,  and  here  were  generally  some 
eight  or  ten  assembled,  while  the  savory 
odor  of  some  smoking  dish,  and  the  merry 
laughter,  proclaimed  that  feasting  was  not 
excluded  from  the  life  of  a  campaign. 

As  I  passed  one  of  these,  I  heard  the 
tones  of  a  voice  which,  well  known,  had 
somehow  not  been  heard  by  me  for  many  a 
day  before.  Who  could  it'be  ?  I  listened, 
but  in  vain.  I  asked  myself  whose  was  it. 
[  dismounted,  and  leading  my  horse  by  the 
bridle,  passed  before  the  hut.  The  strong 
light  of  the  blazing  wood  lit  up  the  inte- 
rior, and  showed  me  a  party  of  about  a 


454 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


dozen  officers,  seated  and  lying  on  a  heap 
of  straw,  occupied  in  discussing  a  supper, 
which,  however  wanting  in  all  the  elegan- 
cies of  table  equipment,  even  where  I  stood 
had  a  most  appetizing  odor.  Various 
drinking  vessels — some  of  them  silver — 
passed  from  hand  to  hand  rapidly,  and  the 
clinking  of  cups  proclaimed  that,  although 
of  different  regiments — as  I  saw  they  were 
— a  kindly  feeling  united  them. 

"Well,  Francois,"  said  the  same  voice 
whose  accents  were  so  familiar  to  me  with- 
out my  being  able  to  say  why — "well, 
Francois,  you  have  not  told  us  how  it  hap- 
pened." 

"Easily  enough,''  said  another;  "he 
broke  my  blade  in  his  back,  and  gave  point 
afterward  and  ran  me  through  the  chest." 
It  was  the  '  Maitre  d'armes '  of  the  Fourth, 
my  old  antagonist,  who  said  this,  and  I 
drew  near  to  hear  the  remainder.  "  You 
could  not  call  the  thing  unfair,'"  continued 
he,  "but,  after  all,  no  one  ever  heard  of 
such  a  'passe.' " 

"I  could  have  told  you  of  it,  though," 
rejoined  the  other ;  "  for  I  remember  once, 
in  the  fencing  school  at  the  Polytechnique, 
I  saw  him  catch  his  antagonist's  blade  in 
his  sleeve,  and  when  he  had  it  secure,  snap 
it  across,  and  then  thrust  home  with  his 
own.  ParUeu,  he  lost  a  coat  by  it,  and  I 
believe,  at  the  time,  poor  fellow,  he  could 
rll  spare  it." 

This  story,  which  was  told  of  myself,  was 
an  incident  which  occurred  in  a  school 
duel,  and  was  only  known  to  two  or  three 
others ;  and  again  was  I  puzzled  to  think 
which  of  my  former  companions  the'speak- 
er  could  be.  •  My  curiosity  was  now  strong- 
er than  aught  else,  and  so,  affecting  to  seek 
a  light  for  my  cigar,  I  approached  the  blaze. 

"Hallo,  comrade  !  a  cup  of  wine  with 
you,"  cried  out  a  voice  from  within  ;  "  Mel- 
niker  is  no  bad  drinking — " 

"  When  Chambertin  can't  be  had,"  said 
another,  handing  me  a  goblet  of  red  wine. 

"Par  St.  Denis!  It's  the  very  man  him- 
self," shouted  a  third.  "  Why,  Burke,  my 
old  comrade,  do  you  forget  Tascher  ?" 

"  What  ! "  said  I,  in  amazement,  turning 
from  one  to  the  other  of  the  moustached 
faces,  and  unable  to  discover  my  former 
friend,  white  they  laughed  loud  and  long 
at  my  embarrassment. 

"  Make  way  for  him  there — make  way, 
lads  !  Come,  Burke,  here's  your  place," 
said  he,  stretching  out  his  hand  and  press- 
ing me  down  beside  him  on  the  straw.  "  So 
you  did  not  remember  me  ?  " 

In  truth,  there  was  enough  of  change  in 
his  appearance,  since  last  I  saw  him,  to 
warrant  my  forgetfulness.     A  dark,  bushy 


beard,  worn  cuirassier  fashion,  around  the 
mouth  and  high  on  the  cheeks, almost  con- 
cealed  his  lace,  while  in  figure  he  had  grown 
both  taller  and  stouter. 

"Art  colonel  of  the 8th  regiment  ?"  said 
he,  laughing  ;  "you  know  I  promised  you 
were  to  be,  when  we  were  to  meet  again." 

"  No  ;  but  if  I  mistake  not."  said  a  hus- 
sar officer  opposite,  "  monsieur  is  in  the  way 
to  become  so.  Were  you  not  named  to  a 
troop,  about  half  an  hour  ago,  by  the  Em- 
peror himself  ?  " 

"  Yes  !  "  said  I,  with  an  effort  to  suppress 
rny  pride. 

" Diantre  bleu!"  exclaimed  Tascher, 
"  what  good  fortune  you  always  have  !  I 
wish  you  joy  of  it,  with  all  my  heart.  I 
say,  comrades,  let  us  drown  his  commission 
for  him." 

"  Agreed— agreed  !"  cried  they  all  in  a 
breath.  "  Francois  will  make  us  a  bowl  of 
punch  for  the  occasion." 

"Most  willingly,"  said  the  little  "mai- 
tre d'armes."  "  Monsieur  le  Capitaine,  I 
am  sure,  bears  me  no  ill-will  for  our  little 
affair.  I  thought  not,"  added  he,  seizing 
my  hand  in  both  his.  "  Ma  foi,  you  spoil- 
ed my  tierce  for  me— I  shall  never  be  the 
same  man  again.  Now,  gentlemen,  pass 
down  the  brandy,  and  let  the  man  with 
most  credit  go  seek  for  sugar  at  the  can- 
teen." 

While  Francois  commenced  his  opera- 
tions, Tascher  proceeded  to  recount  to  me 
the  miserable  life  he  had  spent  in  garrison 
towns,  till  the  outbreak  of  the  campaign 
had  called  him  on  active  service. 

"  It  was  no  use  that  I  asked  the  Empress 
to  intercede  for  me,  and  get  me  appointed 
to  another  regiment  ;  being  the  nephew  of 
Napoleon  seemed  to  set  a  complete  bar  to 
my  advancement.  Even  now,"  said  he, 
"  my  name  has  been  sent  forward  by  my 
colonel  for  promotion,  and  I  wager  you  fifty 
Naps  I  shall  be  passed  over." 

"  And  what  if  you  be  ?  "  said  a  huge, 
heavy-browed  major  beside  him — "what 
great  hardship  is  it  to  be  a  lieutenant  in  the 
cuirassiers  at  two-and-twenty  ?  I  was  a 
sergeant  ten  years  later." 

"  Ay,  parbleu  !  "  cried  another,  "  I  won 
my  epaulettes  at  Cairo,  when  three  officers 
were  reported  living,  in  a  whole  regiment." 

"To  be  sure,"  said  Francois,  looking  up 
from  his  operation  of  lemon  squeezing ; 
"  here  am  I,  a  maitre  d'armes,  after  twenty- 
six  years'  service  ;  and  there's  Davoust, 
who  never  could  stand  before  me,  he's  a 
general  of  brigade. " 

The  whole  party  laughed  aloud  at  the 
grievances  of  Maitre  Francois,  whose  se- 
riousness on  the  subject  was  perfectly  real, 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


455 


"  Ah  !  you  may  laugh,"  said  lie,  half  in 
pique  ;  "but  what  a  more  accident  can  de- 
termine a  man's  fortune  in  life  !  Would 
Jnnot  there  be  a  major-general  to-day  if  lie 
did  not  measure  six  feet  without  his  hoots  ? 
We  were  at  school  together,  and,  mafoi,  he 
was  always  at  the  bottom  of  the  class." 

"And  so,  Francois,  it  was  your  size, 
then,  that  stopped  your  promotion  ?  " 

"  Of  course  it  was.  When  a  man  is  but 
five  feet— with  high  heels,  too — he  can  only 
be  advanced  as  a  maitre  d'armes.  Parbleu  ! 
what  should  I  be  now  if  I  had  only  grown 
a  little  taller?" 

"  It  is  all  better  as  it  is,"  growled  out  an 
old  captain,  between  the  puffs  of  his  meer- 
schaum. "If  thou  wert  an  inch  bigger, 
there  would  be  no  living  in  the  same  brigade 
with  thee," 

"For  all  that,"  rejoined  Maitre  Fran- 
cms,  "  I  have  put  many  a  pretty  fellow  his 
full  length  on  the  grass." 

"  How  many  duels,  Francois,  did  you 
tell  us,  the  other  evening,  that  you  fought 
in  the  Twenty-second  ?  " 

"  Seventy-eight !"  said  the  little  man — 
"not  to  speak  of  two  affairs  which,  I  am 
ashamed  to  confess,  were  with  the  broad- 
sword ;  but  they  were  fellows  from  Alsace, 
and  they  knew  no  better." 

"  Tonnerre  de  del!"  cried  the  Major, 
"a  little  devil  like  that  is  a  perfect  plague 
in  a  regiment.  I  remember  we  had  a  fel- 
low called  Piccotin —  " 

"Ali  !  Piccotin — poor  Piccotin  !  We 
were  foster-brothers,"  interrupted  Fran- 
cois—  "we  were  both  from  Chalons-sur- 
Marne. " 

"Egad  !  I'd  have  sworn  you  were,"  re- 
joined the  Major,  "One  might  have 
thought  ye  were  twins." 

"People  often  said  so,"  responded  Fran- 
cois, with  as  much  composure  as  though  a 
compliment  had  been  intended.  "We 
both  had  the  same  colored  hair  and  eyes, 
the  same  military  air,  and  gave  the  'passe 
en  tierce '  always  outside  the  guard  exactly 
in  the  same  way." 

"  What  became  of  Piccotin  ?  "  asked  the 
Major.     " He  left  us  at  Lyons." 

•'You  never  heard,  then,  what  became 
of  him  ?" 

"No.  We  knew  he  joined  the  cliasseurs 
a  pied." 

"  I  can  tell  you,  then,"  said  Francois  ; 
"no  one  knows  better.  I  parted  from  Pic- 
cotin when  we  were  ordered  to  Egypt.  We 
did  our  best  to  obtain  service  in  the  same 
brigade,  for  we  were  like  brothers,  but  we 
could  not  manage  it;  and  so,  with  sad 
hearts,  we  separated,  he,  to  return  to 
France,  I,  to   sail   for  Alexandria.     This 


was  in  the  spring  of  1798,  or,  as  we  called 
it,  the  year  Six  of  the  Republic.  For  three 
years  we  never  met  ;  hut  when  the  eighth 
demi-brigadc  returned  from  Egypt, 
went  into  garrison  at  Bayonne,  and  the 
first  man  I  saw  on  the  ramparts  w;i-  Pic- 
cotin himself.  There  was  no  mistaking 
him  ;  you  know  the  way  he  had  of  walk- 
ing with  a  long  stride,  rising  on  his  instep 
at  every  step,  squaring  his  elbows,  and 
turning  his  head  from  side  to  side,  jus 
see  if  any  one  was  pleased  to  smile,  or  even 
so  much  as  to  look  closely  at  him.  Ah  ! 
ma  foi,  little  Piccotin  knew  how  to  treat 
such  as  well  as  anyone.  Methinks  I 
him  approaching  his  man  with  a  slide  and 
a  bow,  and  then,  taking  off  his  cap,  I  hear 
him  say,  in  his  mildest  tone,  '  Monsieur 
assuredly  did  not  intend  that  stare  and  that 
grimace  for  me.  I  know  I  must  have  de- 
ceived myself  ;  monsieur  is  only  a  fool — lie 
never  meant  to  be  impertinent.'  Then, 
parbleu,  what  a  storm  would  come  on,  and 
how  cool  was  Piccotin  the  whole  time  ! 
How  scrupulously  timid  he  would  be  of 
misspelling  the  gentleman's  name,  or  mis- 
placing an  accent  over  it !  Howt  delicately 
he  would  inquire  his  address,  as  if  the  curi- 
osity was  only  pardonable  !  And  then  with 
what  courtesy  he  would  take  his  leave, 
retiring  half  a  dozen  paces  before  he^r.!- 
tured  to  turn  his  back  on  the  man  he  was 
determined  to  kill  next  morning  ! " 

"Quite  true,  perfectly  true,  Francois," 
said  the  Major;  "Piccotin  did  the  thing 
with  the  most  admirable  temper  and  good- 
breeding." 

"That  was  the  tone  of  Chalons  when  we 
were  both  boys,"  said  Francois,  proudly; 
"he  and  I  were  reared  together."  He 
finished  a  bumper  of  wine  as  he  made  this 
satisfactory  explanation,  and  looked  round 
at  the  company  with  the  air  of  a  con- 
queror. 

"  Piccotin  saw  me  as  quickly  as  I  per- 
ceived him,  and  the  minute  after  we  wore 
in  each  other's  arms.  'Ah  !  mon  cher, 
now  many  ? '  said  he  to  me,  as  soon  as  the 
first  burst  of  enthusiasm  had  subsided. 

"'Only  eighteen,'  said  I,  sadly  ;  'but 
two  were  Mamelukes  of  the  Guard.' 

"  'Thou  wert  ever  fortunate,  Francois/ 
he  replied,  wiping  his  eyes  with  emotion  ; 
'I  have  never  pinked  any  but  Christians.' 

"''Come,  come,'  said  I,  'don't  be  down- 
hearted ;  good  times  are  coming.  They 
say  le  Petit  Caporal  will  have  us  in  Eng- 
land soon.' 

"  'Mayhap,'  said  he,  sorrowfully,  for  he 
could  not  get  over  my  Turks.  Well,  in 
order  to  cheer  him  up  a  little,  I  proposed 
that  we  should  go  and  sup  together  at  the 


45o 


CHARLES  LEVERS    WORKS. 


'Grenadier  Rouge  ;'  and  away  we  went  ac- 
cordingly. 

'■  It  would  amuse  you,  perhaps,"  said 
Maitre  Francois,  ''we're  I  to  tell  some  of 
the  stories  we  related  to  each  other  thai 
night.  We  hoth  had  had  our  share  of  ad- 
venture since  we  met,  and  some  droll  ones 
among  the  number.  However,  that  is  not 
the  question  at  present.  We  sat  late — so 
late  that  they  came  to  close  the  cafe  at  last, 
and  we  were  obliged  to  depart.  You  know 
the  'Grenadier  Rouge,'  don't  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  know  it  well,"  replied  the  Ma- 
jor;  "it's  over  the  glacis,  about  a  mile 
outside  the  barrier." 

"  Just  so  ;  and  there's  a  pleasant  walk 
across  the  glacis  to  the  gate.  As  Piccotin 
and  I  set  out  together  on  our  way  to  the 
town,  the  night  was  calm  and  mild  :  a  soft 
moonlight  shed  a  silvery  tint  over  every 
object,  and  left  the  stately  poplars  to  throw 
a  still  longer  shadow  on  the  smooth  grass, 
For  some  time  we  walked  along  without 
speaking  ;  the  silence  of  the  night,  the 
fragrant  air,  the  mellow  light,  were  all  soft 
and  tranquilizing  influences,  and  we  sank 
each  into  his  own  reflections. 

"  When  we  reached  the  middle  of  the 
plain — you  know  the  spot,  I'm  sure — there's 
a  little  bronze  fountain,  with  four  cedars 
round  it —  "  The  major  nodded,  and  he 
resumed  :  "  Piccotin  came  to  a  sudden  halt, 
and,  seizing  my  hand  in  both  of  his,  said, 
'  Francois,  canst  thou  guess  what  I'm 
thinking  of  ?' 

"I  looked  at  him,  and  I  looked  around 
me.  and  after  a  few  seconds'  pause  I  an- 
swered, 'Yes,  Piccotin,  I  know  it,  it  is  a 
lovely  spot.' 

'•' '  Never  was  anything  iike  it ! '  cried  he, 
in  a  rapture  ;  'look  at  the  turf,  smooth  as 
velvet,  and  yet  soft  to  the  foot ;  see  the 
trees,  how  they  fall  back  to  give  the  light 
admittance  ;  and  there,  that  little  foun- 
tain,- if  one  felt  thirsty — eh  ! — what  say 
you  ? ' 

"  '  Agreed,'  said  I,  grasping  him  by  both 
hands;  'for  this  once— once  only,  Picco- 
tin.' 

"'Only  once,  Francois;  a  few  passes, 
and  no  more.' 

"  'Just  so — the  first  touch.' 

"  '  Exactly — the  first  touch,'  said  he,  as, 
taking  off  his  cloak,  and  folding  it  neatly, 
he  laid  it  on  the  grass. 

' '  It  was  a  strange  thing,  but  in  all  our 
lives,  from  earliest  boyhood  up,  we  never 
had  ••■ieasured  swords  together,  and  though 
we  were  both  'maitre  d'armes,'  we  never 
crossed  blades,  even  in  jest.  Often  and 
often  had  our  comrades  pitted  us  against 
each  other,  and  laid  wagers  on  the  result, 


hut  wc  never  would  consent  to  meet — I 
cannot  say  why.  It  was  not  fear — 1  know 
not  how  to  account  for  it,  but  such  was  the 
fact. 

"'What  blade  do  you  wear,  Francois?' 
said  lie,  approaching  me,  as  I  arranged 
my  jacket  and  vest,  with  my  cap,  on  the 
ground. 

"  '  A  Rouen  steel,'  said  I  ;  '  too  limber  for 
most  men,  but  I  am  so  accustomed  to  it  I 
prefer  it.' 

"  '  Ah  !  a  pretty  weapon,  indeed,'  said  he, 
drawing  it  from  the  scabbard,  and  making 
one  or  two  passes  with  it  against  an  elder 
trunk.  '  Was  this  the  blade  you  had  with 
you  in  Egypt  ? ' 

"  '  Yes,  I  have  worn  none  other  for  eight 
years. ' 

"  '  Ah  !  mafoi,  those  Mamelukes — how  I 
envy  you  those  Mamelukes,'  he  muttered  to 
himself,  as  he  walked  back  to  his  place. 

"  '  Move  a  little,  a  very  little,  to  the  left 
— there's  a  shadow  from  that  tree — can  you 
see  me  well  ?'  said  I. 

"  '  Perfectly — are  you  ready  ?  Wrell — en 
garde  ! ' 

"  '  Piccotin's  forte,  I  soon  saw,  lay  in  the 
long  meditated  attack,  where  each  move- 
ment was  part  of  an  artfully  devised  series  ; 
and  I  perceived  that  he  suffered  his  adver- 
sary to  gain  several  trifling  advantages,  by 
Avay  of  giving  hira  a  false  confidence,  bi- 
ding his  own  time  to  pay  off  the  scores.  In 
this  description  of  fence  he  was  more  than 
my  equal.  My  strength  was  in  the  skir- 
mishing passages,  where  most  men  lunge  at 
random  ;  then,  no  matter  how  confused  the 
rally,  I  was  as  cool  as  in  the  salute. 

"For  some  time  I  permitted  him  to  play 
his  game  out ;  and  certainly  nothing  could 
be  more  beautiful  than  his  passes  over  the 
hilt.  Twice  he  planted  his  point  within  an 
inch  of  my  bosom ;  and  nothing  but  a 
spring  backward  would  have  saved  me. 

"  At  length,  after  a  long-contested  strug- 
gle, he  made  a  feint  within,  and  then  with- 
out, the  guard,  and  succeeded  in  touching 
my  sword-arm,  above  the  wrist. 

"  'A  touch,  I  believe,'  said  he. 

"  'A  mere  nothing,'  said  1  ;  for  although 
,  I  felt  the  blood  running  down  my  sleeve, 
and  oozing  between  my  fingers,  I  was  an- 
noyed to  think  he  had  made  the  first  hit. 

"  '  Ah,  Francois,  these  Mamelukes  were 
I  not  of  the  "premiere  force,"  after  all.  I 
have  only  been  jesting  all  this  time — see 
here.'  With  that  he  closed  on  me,  in 
a  very  different  style  from  his  former  at- 
tack. Pushing  and  parrying  with  the 
rapidity  of  lightning,  he  evinced  a  skill  in 
'skirmish  "  I  did  not  believe  him  possessed 
;  of.     In  this,  however,  I  was  his  master, 


TOM  B UR KB   OF  "OURS." 


457 


and  in  a  few  seconds  gave  him  my  point 
sharply,  but  not  deeply,  in  the  shoulder. 

"Instead  of  dropping  his  weapon  when 
he  received  mine,  he  returned  the  thrust. 
I  parried  it,  and  touched  him  again,  a  little 
lower  down.  He  winced  this  time,  and 
muttered  something  I  could  not  catch. 
'You  shall  have  it  now,'  said  he,  aloud  ;  'I 
owe  you  this — and  this.'  True  to  his  word, 
he  twice  pierced  me  in  the  back,  outside  the 
guard.  Encouraged  by  success,  he  again 
closed  on  me,  while  I,  piqued  by  his  last 
assault,  advanced  to  meet  him. 

"  Our  tempers  were  both  excited  ;  but  his 
far  more  than  mine.  The  struggle  was  a 
severe  one.  Three  several  times  his  blade 
passed  between  my  arm  and  my  body  ;  and, 
at  last,  after  a  desperate  rally,  he  dropped 
on  one  knee,  and  gave  me  the  point  here, 
beneath  the  chest.  Before  he  could  ex- 
tricate his  blade,  I  plunged  mine  into  his 
chest,  and  pushed  till  I  heard  the  hilt  come 
clink  against  his  ribs.  The  blood  spurted 
upward,  over  my  face  and  breast,  as  he  fell 
backward.  I  wiped  it  hurriedly  from  my 
eyes,  and  bent  over  him.  He  gave  a  shud- 
der and  a  little  faint  moan,  and  all  was 
still." 

"  You  killed  him  ?  "  cried  out  three  or 
four  of  us  together. 

clMa  foi,  yes.  The  'coup' was  mortal 
— he  never  stirred  after.  As  for  me,"  con- 
tinued Francois,  "I  surrendered  myself  a 
prisoner  to  the  officer  on  guard  at  the  gate. 
I  was  tried  ten  day  after  by  a  military 
commission,  and  acquitted.  My  own  evi- 
dence was  my  accusation  and  my  defense." 

"Ventrebleu — had  I  been  on  the  court- 
martial,  you  had  not  been  here  to  tell  the 
story,"  said  the  old  Major,  as  his  face  be- 
came almost  purple  with  passion. - 

"Nonsense,"  said  Tascher,  jeeringly  ; 
"what  signifies  a  maitre  d'armes  the  more 
or  the  less." 

"Monsieur  will  probably  explain  him- 
self," said  Francois,  with  one  of  his  cold 
smiles  of  excessive  deference. 

"  It  is  exactly  what  I  mean  to  do,  Fran- 
cois." 

"  Come,  sirs,  none  of  this,"  broke  in  the 
Major.  "  Lieutenant  Tascher,  you  may  not 
fancy  being  placed  under  an  arrest  when 
the  enemy  is  in  the  field.  Master  Francois, 
do  you  forget  the  sentence  of  a  court-mar- 
tial is  hanging  over  your  head  for  an  affair 
at  Elchingen,  where  you  insulted  a  young 
officer  of  the  hussars  ?  " 

"  In  that  case,  I  must  be  permitted  to 
say  that  Maitre  Francois  conducted  himself 
like  a  man  of  honor,"  said  I. 

"  Parbleu  ! — and  got  the  worse  of  it  be- 
sides," cried  he,  placing  his  hand  on  his 


hip.  The  tone  cf  his  voice  as  he  said  this, 
and  the  grimace  he  made,  restored  the 
party  once  more  to  good  humor,  and  we 
chatted  away  plea  LI  day  was  break- 

ing. 

As  Tascher  strolled  ."long  with  me 
toward  my  quarters,  I  was  rejoiced  to  dis- 
cover thai  he  had  never  heard  of  my  name 
as  being  mixed  up  in  the  Chouan  conspi- 
racy ;  nor  was  he  aware  with  how  little 
reason  he  believed  me  to  be  favored  by  for- 
tune. 

I  received,  however,  all  his  congratula- 
tions without  any  desire  to  undeceive  him. 
Already  had  I  learned  the  worldly  less 
that  while  friends  cling  closer  in  adverg 
your  mere  acquaintance  deems  your  popu- 
larity your  greatest  merit  ;  and!  at  h>,    • 
perceived  that,  however  ungenial,  in  m 
respects,    the  companionship,   the   life   of 
isolation  I  led  had  rendered  me  suspected 
by   others,    and  in   a    career,   too,    where 
frankness  was  considered  the  first  of  virtues. 

I  assented  at  once  with  pleasure  to  the 
prospect  of  our  meeting  frequently  while 
in  camp.  My  own  regiment  had  joined 
Davoust's  corps,  and  I  was  glad  to  have  the 
society  of  some  others  of  my  own  ag  .  I 
only  to  wean  myself  from  my  habits  of 
solitude.  While  I  formed  these  plans  for 
the  future,  I  little  anticipated  what  events 
were  in  store  for  me,  nor  how  soon  I  should 
be  thrown  among  scenes  and  people  totally 
different  from  those  with  which  I  had  e\  t r 
mixed  before. 

"  You  mess  with  us,  then,  Burke — that's 
agreed,"  said  Tascher.  "They're  excel- 
lent fellows,  these  cuirassiers  of  ours,  and 
I  know  you'll  like  them." 

With  this  promise  we  parted,  hoping  to 
meet  on  the  morrow. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

THE  MILL  ON  THE  HOLITSCH  ROAD. 

At  an  early  hour  on  the  morning  of  the 
4th  came  orders  for  the  "Garde  a  Cheval" 
to  hold  themselves  in  readiness,  with  two 
squadrons  of  the  carbineers,  on  the  road 
to  Holitsch  ;  part  of  this  force  being  under 
the  command  of  General  d'Auvergne.  "We 
found  ourselves  fully  equipped  and  in  wait- 
ing soon  after  eight  o'clock.  From  the 
"tenue"  and  appearance  of  the  troops.  I 
was  evident  that  no  measure  of  active  ser- 
vice was  contemplated.  Yet,  if  a  review 
were  intended,  we  could  not  guess  why  so 
small  a  force  had  been  selected.  As  usual 
on  such  occasions,  many  conjectures  were 


4t5S 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


hazarded,    and    a    hundred     explanations 

passed  current — one  scarcely    a  whit  better 
than  the  other— when  at  last  we  perceived 

a  peloton  of  dragoons  advancing  toward  us 
at  a  brisk  trot. 

The  word  was  passed  to  close  up  and 
draw  swords— and  scarcely  was  it  obeyed 
when  the  staff'  of  the  Emperor  came  up. 
They  were  all  in  the  full  blaze  of  their  gala 
uniforms,  brilliant  with  crosses  and  deco- 
rations. Napoleon  alone  wore  the  simple 
costume  of  the  "Chasseurs"'  of  the 
"Garde,"  with  the  decoration  of  the  Le- 
gion ;  but  his  proud  look  and  his  flashing 
eye  made  him  conspicuous  above  them  all. 
He  was  mounted  on  his  favorite  charger 
"  Marengo,"  and  seemed  to  enjoy  the  high 
spirit  of  the  mettled  animal,  as  he  tossed 
his  long  mane  about,  and  lashed  his  sides 
with  his  great  silken  tail. 

As  the  cortege  passed  we  closed  up  the 
rear,  and  followed  at  a  sharp  pace,  more 
than  ever  puzzled  to  divine  what  was  going 
forward.  After  about  two  hours'  riding, 
during  which  we  never  drew  bridle,  we  saw 
a  party  of  staff  officers  in  front,  who,  salut- 
ing the  Emperor,  joined  the  cortege.  At 
the  same  instant  General  d'Auvergne  pass- 
ed close  beside  me,  and  whispered  in  my 
ear,  "  Bernadotte  has  just  come  up,  and 
been  most  coldly  received."  I  wished  to- 
ask  him  what  was  the  object  of  the  whole 
movement,  but  he  was  gone  before  I  could 
do  so.  In  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
afterward  we  left  the  high-road,  and  en- 
tered upon  a  large  plain,  where  the  only 
object  I  could  perceive  was  an  old  mill, 
ruined  and  dilapidated.  Toward  this  the 
imperial  staff  rode  forward,  while  the  pelo- 
ton  in  front  wheeled  about,  and  rode  to  the 
rear  of  our  squadrons.  The  next  moment 
we  were  halted,  and  drawn  up  in  order  of 
battle.  While  these  movements  were  going 
forward,  I  remarked  that  the  Emperor  had 
dismounted  from  his  horse,  and  dismissed 
his  staff,  all  save  Marshal  Berth ier,  who 
stood  at  a  little  distance  from  him.  Sev- 
eral dismounted  dragoons  were  employed 
in  lighting  two  immense  fires,  a  process 
which  Napoleon  appeared  to  watch  with 
great  interest  for  a  second  or  two,  and 
then,  taking  out  his  glass,  he  remained  for 
several  minutes  intently  surveying  the 
great  road  to  Holitsch. 

In  this  direction  at  once  every  eye  was 
turned,  but  nothing  could  we  see.  The 
road  led  through  a  wide  open  country  for 
some  miles,  and  at  \ast  disappeared  in  the 
recesses  of  a  dark  pine  wood,  that  covered 
the  horizon  for  miles  on  either  side.  Mean- 
while Napoleon,  with  his  hands  clasped 
behind  his  back,   walked   hurriedly  back- 


ward and  forward  beside  the  blazing  fires, 
stopping  at  intervals  to  look  along  the  road, 
and  then  resuming  his  walk  as  before.  He 
was  not  more  than  two  hundred  paces  from 
where  we  stood,  and  I  could  mark  well  his 
gesture  of  impatience,  as  he  closed  his  glass 
each  time,  after  looking  in  vain  toward 
Holitsch. 

"I  say,  Burke,"  whispered  one  of  my 
brother  officers  beside  me,  "  I  should  not 
fancy  being  the  man  who  keeps  him  wait- 
ing in  that  fashion.  Look  at  Berth  ier, 
how  he  keeps  aloof ;  ho  knows  that  some- 
thing is  brewing." 

"What  can  it  all  mean  ?  "  said  I.  "  Who 
can  he  be  expecting  here  ?" 

"They  say  now,"  whispered  my  com- 
panion, "that  Davoust  cannot  hold  the 
bridge  of  Goding,  and  must  fall  back  be- 
fore the  Bussian  columns ;  and  that  Na- 
poleon has  invited  Alexander  to  a  confer- 
ence here  to  gain  time  to  reinforce  Da- 
voust." 

"Exactly;  but  the  Czar  is  too  wily  an 
enemy  for  that  to  succeed,  and  probably 
hence  the  delay,  Avhich  appears  to  irritate 
him  now." 

The  supposition,more  plausible  than  most 
of  those  I  heard  before,  was  still  contra- 
dicted by  the  account  of  the  Emperor  Alex- 
ander's retreat ;  and  again  was  I  at  a  loss  to 
reconcile  these  discrepancies,  when  I  beheld 
Napoleon,  with  his  glass  to  his  eye,  motion 
with  his  hand  for  Berthier  to  come  for- 
ward. I  turned  toward  the  road,  and  now 
could  distinguish  in  the  distance  a  dark 
object  moving  toward  us.  A  few  minutes 
after  the  sun  shone  out,  and  I  remarked 
the  glitter  of  arms,  stretching  in  a  long 
line,  while  my  companion,  with  the  aid  of 
a  glass,  called  out, 

"  I  see  them  plainly,  they  are  lancers  ; 
the  escort  are  Hungarians,  and  there's  a 
caleche,  with  four  horses,  in  front." 

The  Emperor  stood  motionless,  his  arms 
folded  on  his  breast,  and  his  head- a  little 
leaned  forward,  exactly  as  I  have  seen  him 
represented  in  so  many  pictures  and  sta- 
tues; his  eyes  were  thrown  downward,  and 
as  he  stirred  the  blazing  wood  with  his 
foot,  one  could  easily  perceive  how  intense- 
ly his  mind  was  occupied  with  deep  thought. 
The  clattering  sound  of  cavalry  now  turned 
my  attention  to  another  quarter,  and  I  saw 
exactly  in  front  of  us,  and  about  five  hun- 
dred paces  off,  a  regiment  of  Hungarian 
hussars  and  some  squadrons  of  Hulans 
drawn  up.  I  had  little  time  to  mark  their 
gorgeous  equipment  and  splendid  uniform, 
for  already  the  caliche  had  drawn  up  at  the 
roadside,  and  Prince  John  of  Lichtenstein, 
descending,  took  off  his  chapeau,  and  of- 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "Ol/RS.' 


459 


ferecl  his  arm  to  assist  another  to  alight. 
Slowly,  and,  as  it  seemed,  with  effort,  a 
tall  thin  figure,  in  the  white  uniform  of  the 
Austrian  Guard,  stepped  from  the  carriage 
to  the  ground.  The  same  instant  the  offi- 
cers of  the  staff  fell  back,  and  I  saw  Napo- 
leon advance  with  open  arms  to  embrace 
him.  The  Austrian  Emperor — for  it  was 
Francis  himself — seemed  scarcely  able  to 
control  the  emotion  he  felt  at  this  moment ; 
and  we  could  see  that  his  head  rested  for 
several  seconds  on  Napoleon's  shoulder. 
And,  what  a  moment  must  that  have  been! 
How  deeply  must  the  pride  of  the  descend- 
ant of  the  Cassars  have  felt  the  humiliation, 
which  made  him  thus  a  suppliant  before 
one  he  deemed  a  mere  Corsican  adventurer! 
What  a  pang  it  must  have  cost  his  haughty 
spirit,  as  he  uttered  the  words,  "  Mon 
frere  !  " 

As  they  walked  side  by  side  toward  the 
plateau,  where  the  fires  were  lighted,  it  was 
easy  to  mark  that  Napoleon  was  the  speak- 
er, while  Francis  merely  bowed  from  time 
to  time,  or  made  a  gesture  of  seeming  as- 
sent. 

As  the  Emperor  arrived  at  the  place  of 
conference,  we  fell  back  some  fifty  yards  ; 
and  although  the  air  was  still  and  frosty, 
and  the  silence  was  perfect  around,  we  could 
not  catch  a  word  on  either  side.  After 
about  an  hour  the  conversation  appeared' 
to  assume  a  tone  of  gayety  and  good-humor, 
and  Ave  could  hear  the  sovereigns  laughing 
repeatedly. 

The  conference  lasted  for  above  two 
hours,  when  once  more  the  Emperors  em- 
braced, and,  as  we  thought,  with  more  cor- 
diality, and  separated.  The  Emperor  of 
Austria  returning,  accompanied  by  Prince 
Lichtenstein,  while  Napoleon  stood  for 
some  minutes  beside  the  fire,  as  if  musing, 
and  then,  beckoning  his  staff  to  folloAV,  he 
walked  toward  the  high-road. 

Scarcely  had  the  Austrian  Emperor 
reached  his  carriage,  when  Savary,  bare- 
headed and  breathless,  stood  beside  the 
door  of  it.  He  was  the  bearer  of  a  message 
from  Napoleon.  The  next  moment  the 
caleche  started,  accompanied  by  Savary, 
who,  with  a  single  aide-de-camp,  took  the 
road  toward  the  Austrian  head-quarters. 

As  Napoleon  was  about  to  mount  his 
horse,  I  saw  General  D'Auvergne  move  for- 
ward toward  him.  A  few  words  passed 
between  them,  and  then  the  general,  riding 
up  to  where  I  stood,  said,  "Burke,  you  are 
to  remain  here,  and  if  any  orders  arrive 
from  General  Savary,  hasten  with  them  to 
the  head-quarters  of  his  Majesty.  In 
twelve  hours  you  will  be  relieved.''  So 
saying,  he  galloped  back  to  the  imperial 


staff,  and  soon  after  the  squadrons  defiled 
into  the  road,  the  cortege  dashed  forward, 
and  all  that  remained  of  that  memorable 
scene  was  the  dying   embers  of  the  fires, 

beside  which  the  fate  of  Europe  was  de- 
cided. 

The  old  mill  of  Holitsch  had  been  d 
ed  when  the  Austrian  and  Russian  columns 
took  up  their  position  before  Austerlitz. 
The  miller  and  his  household  tied  at  the 
first  news  of  the  advance,  and  had  not  dared 
to  return.  It  was  a  solitary  spot  at  best — a 
wild  heath,  without  shelter  of  any  kind. 
stretched  away  for  miles  on  till  sides — but 
now,  in  its  utter  loneliness,  it  was  the  most 
miserable-looking  place  that  can  he  conceiv- 
ed. While,  therefore,  I  contented  m;. 
with  thehope  that  my  stay  then1  might  not  be 
long,  I  resolved  to  do  what  I  could  to  render 
my  quarters  more  comfortable.  My  first 
care  was  my  horse,  which  I  picketed  in  the 
kitchen,  where  I  was  happy  to  find  an 
abundant  supply  of  firewood  ;  my  next  was 
to  explore  the  remainder  of  the  concern,  in 
which  I  discovered  traces  of  its  having  been 
already  occupied  by  the  allied  troops — rude 
caricatures  of  the  French  army  in  full  "  de- 
route"  before  terrible-looking  dragoons,  in 
Austrian  and  Russian  uniforms,  ornament- 
ed the  walls  in  many  parts  ;  whole  columns 
of  French  prisoners  were  depicted  begging 
their  lives  from  a  single  Austrian  grenadier: 
and  one  figure,  which,  it  could  easily  be 
discovered,  was  intended  for  Napoleon  him- 
self, was  about  to  be  hanged  upon  a  tree,  to 
the  very  marked  satisfaction,  as  it  would 
seem,  of  a  group  of  Russian  officers,  who 
stood  by,  laughing.  It  is  easy  to  smile  at 
the  ridicule  of  which  fortune  has  thwarted 
the  application,  and  so  I  amused  myself  a 
good  while  by  contemplating  these  gro- 
tesque frescoes.  But  a  more  welcome  sighl 
still  awaited  me,  in  a  small  chamber  ar 
the  top  of  the  building,  where,  in  large 
letters,  written  with  chalk  on  the  door,  I 
read,  "  Rittmeister  von  Oxenhausen's  quar- 
ters." Here,  to  my  exceeding  delight,  I 
discovered  a  neatly  furnished  chamber,  with 
a  bed,  sofa,  and,  better  still,  a  table,  on 
which  the  remains  of  the  Rittmeister's  sup- 
per yet  stood  :  a  goodly  ham,  the  greater 
part  of  a  capon,  a  loaf  of  wheaten  bread, 
and  an  earthenware  crock,  with  a  lid  of 
brass,  containing  about  two  bottles  of  Aus- 
trian red  wine.  This  was  a  most  agreeable 
surprise  to  me — a  pleasant  exchange  from 
the  meager  meal  of  bread  and  cheese  I  had 
but  time  to  procure  from  a  sergeant  of  my 
troop  at  parting.  It  need  not  be  supposed 
that  I  hesitated  long  about  becoming  the 
Rittmeister's  successor — and  so  I  drew,  the 
chair  to  the  table,  and  the  table  nearer  to 


4G0 


(  il .  I  R  L  ES   LE  VERS  WOE  ES. 


the  fire;  for,  singularly  enough,  the  em- 
bers of  a  wood  fire  still  slumbered  on  the 
hearth.  Having  taken  the  keen  edge  off  an 
appetite  the  cold  air  had  whetted  to  the 
sharpest,  I  began  an  inspection  of  my  quar- 
ters, first  having  replenished  the  fire  with 
some  logs  of  wood. 

The  chandler  was  an  octagon,  with  five 
windows  in  as  many  of  the  faces,  a  fireplace 
and  two  doors  occupying  the  other  three. 
One. of  the  doors,  that  by  which  I  entered, 
opened  from  the  stairs — the  other  led  into 
a  granary,  or  something  of  that  nature — at 
least,  so  I  conjectured,  from  a  heap  of 
sacks  which  littered  the  floor,  and  filled 
one  corner  completely.  As  I  could  not  dis- 
cover any  corn,  I  resolved  on  sharing  my 
loaf  with  my  horse,  a  meal  every  campaign- 
ing steed  is  well  accustomed  to  make  ;  and 
now,  returning  to  my  little  chamber,  I  re- 
sumed my  supper  with  all  the  satisfaction 
of  one  who  felt  he  had  made  his  rounds  of 
duty,  and  might  enjoy  repose. 

As  I  knew  the  chateau  de  Holitsch, 
where  the  *Emperor  Francis  held  his  quar- 
ters, was  some  six  leagues  distant,  I  guessed 
that  General  Savary  was  not  likely  to  re- 
turn from  his  mission  before  morning  at 
very  soonest ;  and  so  it  behoved  me  to 
make  my  arrangements  for  passing  the 
night  where  I  was.  Having,  then,  looked 
to  my  horse,  for  whose  bedding  I  made 
free  with  some  dozen  of  the  corn-sacks  in 
the  granary,  I  brought  up  to  my  own  quar- 
ters a  supply  of  wood  ;  and  having  fastened 
the  door,  and  secured  the  windows  as  well 
as  I  was  able,  I  lit  my  meerschaum,  and 
lay  down  before  the  fire  in  as  happy  a  frame 
of  mind  as  need  be.  Indeed,  I  began  to 
fancy  that  fortune  had  done  tormenting, 
and  was  now  about  to  treat  me  more  kind- 
ly. The  notice  of  the  Emperor  had  re- 
lieved my  heart  of  a  load  which  never 
ceased  to  press  on  it,  and  I  could  not  help 
feeling  that  a  fairer  prospect  was  opening 
before  me.  It  is  true,  time  and  misfortune 
had  both  blunted  the  ardor  of  enthusiasm 
with  which  I  started  in  life — the  daring 
aspirations  after  liberty,  the  high-souled 
desire  for  personal  distinction,  had  subsided 
into  calmer  hopes  and  less  ambitious  yearn- 
ings. Young  as  I  yet  was,  I  experienced 
in  myself  that  change  of  sentiment  and 
feeling  which  comes  upon  other  men  later 
on  in  life,  and  I  was  gradually  reconciling 
myself  to  that  sense  of  duty  which  teaches 
a  man  well  to  play  his  part,  in  whatever 
station  he  may  be  called  to  act,  rather  than 
indulge  in  those  overweening  wishes  for 
pre-eminence,  wdiich  in  their  accomplish- 
ment are  so  often  disappointing,  and  in 
their  failure  a  source  of  regret  and  unhap- 


pincss.  These  feelings  were  impressed  on 
me,  more  by  the  force  of  events  than  by 
any  process  of  my  own  reasoning.  The 
(  areer  in  which  1  first  started  as  a  boy  had 
led  to  nothing  hut  misfortune.  The  affec- 
tion I  conceived  for  one — the  only  one  I 
ever  loved — was  destined  equally  to  end 
unhappily.  The  passion  for  liberty,  in 
which  all  my  first  aspirations  were  center- 
ed, had  met  the  rude  shocks  which  my  own 
convictions  suggested  ;  and  I  now  perceived 
that  I  must  begin  life  anew,  endeavoring 
to  forget  the  influences  whoso  shadows 
darkened  my  early  days,  anil  carve  out  my 
destiny  in  a  very  different  path  from  what 
I  once  intended. 

These  were  my  last  waking  thoughts,  as 
my  head  sank  on  my  arm,  and  1  fell  into  a 
deep  sleep.  The  falling  of  a  log  from  the 
fire  awoke  me  suddenly.  I  rubbed  my  eyes, 
and  for  a  second  or  two  could  not  remem- 
ber where  I  was.  At  length  I  became 
clearer  in  mind,  and,  looking  at  my  watch, 
perceived  it  was  but  two  o'clock.  As  the 
flame  of  the  replenished  fire  threw7  its  light 
through  the  room,  I  remarked  that  the 
door  into  the  granary  stood  ajar.  This 
struck  me  as  strange.  I  thought  I  could 
remember  shutting  it  before  I  went  to 
sleep.  Yes  ;  I  recollected  perfectly  placing 
a  chair  against  it,  as  the  latch  was  bad, 
and  a  draught  of  cold  air  came  in  that 
way  ;  and  now  the  chair  was  pushed  back 
into  the  room,  and  the  door  lay  open.  A 
vague  feeling,  half  suspicion,  half  curiosity, 
kept  me  thinking  of  the  circumstance, 
when,  by  chance — the  merest  chance — my 
eyes  fell  upon  the  table,  where  I  had  left 
my  sabre  and  my  pistols.  What  was  my 
amazement  to  find  that  one  of  the  latter — 
that  which  lay  nearest  the  door — was  miss- 
ing. In  an  instant  I  was  on  my  feet. 
Nothing  can  combat  drowsiness  like  the 
sense  of  fear  ;  and  I  became  perfectly  awake 
in  a  moment.  Examining  the  room  with 
caution,  I  found  everything  in  the  same- 
state  as  I  had  left  it,  save  the  door  and  the 
missing  pistol.  The  granary  alone,  then, 
could  be  the  shelter  of  the  invader,  who- 
ever he  might  be.  What  wTas  to  be  done  ? 
I  was  totally  unprovided  with  light,  save 
what  the  fire  afforded,  and  even  were  it 
otherwise,  I  should  expose  myself  by  carry- 
ing one,  long  before  I  could  hope  to  detect 
a  concealed  enem}r.  The  best  plan  I  could 
hit  upon  seemed  to  secure  the  door  once 
more  ;  and  then,  placing  myself  in  such  a 
position  as  not  to  be  commanded  by  it 
again,  to  wait  for  morning  patiently. 
This,  then,  I  did  at  once;  and  having 
examined  my  remaining  pistol,  and  found 
the  charge  and  priming  all  safe,  I  drew  my 


TOM   BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


461 


sabre,  and  sat  down  between  the  door  and 
the  window,  but  so  that  it  should  open 
against  inc. 

Few  sensations  are  more  acutely  painful 
than  the  exercise  of  the  hearing  when 
pushed  to  intensity.  The  unceasing  effort 
to  catch  the  slightest  sound  soon  becomes 
fatigue;  and  as  the  organ  grows  weary,  the 
mental  anxiety  grows  more  acute,  and  then 
begins  a  struggle  between  the  tailing  sense 
and  the  excited  brain.  The  spectral 
images  of  the  eye  in  fever  are  not  one  half 
so  terrible  as  the  strange  discordant  tones 
that  jar  upon  the  tympanum  in  such  a  stale 
as  this.  Each  inanimate  object  seems  en- 
dowed with  its  own  power  of  voice,  and 
whispering  noises  come  stealing  through 
the  dead  silence  of  midnight. 

In  this  state  of  almost  frenzied  anxiety  I 
sat  long — my  eyes  turned  toward  the  door, 
which  oftentimes  I  fancied  I  could  perceive 
to  move.  At  length  the  thought  occurred  to 
me. that,  by  affecting  sleep,  if  anyone  lay 
concealed  within  whose  object  was  to  enter 
the  room,  this  would  probably  induce  him. 

I  had  not  long  to  wait  for  the  success  of 
my  scheme.  The  long-drawn  breathing  of 
my  seeming  slumber  was  not  continued  for 
more  than  a  few  minutes,  when  I  saw  the 
door  slowly,  almost  imperceptibly,  move. 
At  first  it  stirred  inch  by  inch — then  grad- 
ually it  opened  wider  and  wider  till  it  met 
the  obstacle  of  the  chair.  There  now  came 
a  pause  of  several  seconds,  during  which  it 
demanded  all  my  efforts  to  sustain  my  part 
— the  throbbing  at  my  throat  and  temples 
increasing  almost  beyond  endurance,  and 
the  impulse  to  dash  forward,  and,  flinging 
wide  the  door,  confront  my  enemy,  being 
nearly  too  much  for  my  resistance.  Again 
it  moved  noiselessly  as  before — and  then  a 
hand  stole  out,  and,  laying  hold  of  the 
chair,  pushed  it  slowly  backward.  The 
gray  light  of  the  breaking  day  fell  upon  the 
spot,  and  I  could  see  that  the  cuff  of  the 
coat  was  laced  with  gold.  This  time  my 
anxiety  became  intense.  Another  second 
or  two  and  I  should  be  engaged  in  the  con- 
flict— I  knew  not  against  how  many.  I 
clutched  my  sabre  more  fairly  in  my  grasp, 
as  my  breathing  grew  thicker  and  shorter. 
The  chair  still  continued  to  slide  silently 
into  the  room,  and  already  the  arm  of  the 
man  within  protruded.  Now  was  the  mo- 
ment, or  never,  and,  with  a  spring,  I  threw 
myself  on  it,  and,  pinioning  the  wrist  in  my 
hands,  held  it  down  upon  the  floor  while 
I  opposed  my  weight  against  the  door. 
Quick  as  lightning  the  other  hand  appeared, 
armed  with  a  pistol,  and  I  had  but  a  mo- 
ment to  croush  my  head  nearly  to  the 
ground,  when  a  bullet  whizzed  past,  and 


smashed  through  the  window  behind  me, 
while,  with  a  Crash,  the  frail  door  gave  wav 
to  a  strong  push,  and  a  man  sprang  fiercely 
forward  to  seize  me  by  tin-  throat.  Jump- 
ing backward  1  recovered  my  feet,  but  be- 
fore] could  raise  my  pistol  he  made  a  spring 
at  me,  and  we  both  rolled  together  on  the 
floor.  On  the  pistol  both  our  hands  met, 
audi  %gle  was  for  the  weapon.    Twice 

was  it  pointed  at  my  heart  ;  but  m\  hand 
held   the  lock,  and  not  all  hiseffoitfl  could 

unclasp  it.  At  last  I  freed  my  tigh\  hand 
from  the  sword-knot  of  my  .-.'dire,  and, 
striking  him  with  my  clenched  knuckles  on 

the  forehead,  threw  him  hack.  Jli-  grasp 
relaxed  at  the  instant,  and  1  wrenched  the 
pistol  from  his  fingers,  and  placed  the  muz- 
zle against  his  chest.  Another  second  an! 
he  would  have  rolled  a  corpse  before  me, 
when,  to  my  horror  and  amazement,  I  saw 
in  my  antagonist  my  once  friend,  Henri  de 
Beauvais.  I  flung  the  weapon  from  me,  as 
I  cried  out,  "  De  Beauvais,  forgive  me — 
forgive  me."  A  deathly  paleness  came  over 
his  features  ;  his  eyes  grew  glazed  and 
filmy,  and,  with  a  low  groan,  he  fell  faint- 
ing on  the  floor.  I  bathed  his  temples  with 
water;  I  moistened  his  pale  lips  ;  I  rubbed 
his  clammy  fingers  ;  but  it  was  long  before 
he  rallied,  and  when  he  did  come  to  him- 
self, and  looked  up,  he  closed  his  eyes  again, 
as  though  the  sight  of  me  was  worse  than 
death  itself. 

"  Come,  Henri,"  said  I,  "a  cup  of  wine, 
my  friend  !  and  you  will  be  better  present- 
ly. Thank  God  this  has  not  ended  as  it 
might."  He  raised  his  eyes  toward  me,  but 
with  a  look  of  proud  and  unforgiving  stern- 
ness, while  he  uttered  not  a  word. 

"It  is  unfair  to  blame  me,  De  Beauvais, 
for  this,"  said  I.  "Once  more  I  say,  for- 
give me." 

His  lips  moved,  and  some  sounds  came 
forth,  but  I  could  not  hear  the  words. 

"There,  there,"  cried  I,  •'it's  past  and 
over  now.     Here  is  my  hand." 

"You  struck  me  with  that  hand,"  said 
he,  in  a  deep,  distinct  voice,  as  though 
every  word  came  from  the  very  bottom  of 
his  chest. 

"And  if  I  did,  Henri,  my  own  life  was 
on  the  blow." 

"Oh  that  you  had  taken  mine  with  it ! "' 
said  he,  with  a  bitterness  I  can  never  for- 
get. "I  am  the  first  of  my  name  that  ever 
received  a  blow.  Would  I  were  to  be  the 
last." 

"You  forget,  De  Beauvais — " 

"No,  sir,  I  forget  nothing.  Be  assured, 
too,  I  never  shall  forget  this  night.  With 
any  other  than  yourself  I  should  not  despair 
of  that  atonement  for  an  injury  which  alone 


462 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORLDS. 


can  wash  out  such  a  stain  ;•  but  you — I 
know  you  well — you  will  not  give  me  this.'1 

"You  are  right,  Do  Beauvais — I  will 
not,"  said  I,  calmly.  "  Sorry  am  I  that 
even  an  accident  should  have  brought  us 
into  collision.  It  is  a  mischance  I  feel  deep- 
ly, and  shall  for  many  a  day." 

"And  I,  sir,"  cried  he,  as,  starting  up, 
his  eyes  flashed  with  passion  and  his  check 
grew  scarlet — "and  I,  sir -what  are  to  be 
my  feelings  ?  Think  you  that,  because  I 
am  an  exile  and  an  outcast— forced  by  mis- 
fortune to  wear  the  livery  of  one  who  is  not 
my  rightful  sovereign — that  my  sense  of 
personal  honor  is  the  less,  and  that  the  mark 
of  an  insult  is  not  as  blood-stained  on  my 
conscience  as  ever  it  was  ?  " 

"Nothing  but  passion  could  blind  you 
to  the  fact  that  there  can  be  no  insult  where 
no  intention  could  exist." 

"  Spare  me-  your  casuistry,  sir,"  replied 
he,  with  an  insolent  wave  of  his  hand,  while 
he  sank  into  a  chair,  and  laid  his  head  upon 
the  table. 

For  an  instant  my  temper,  provoked  be- 
yond endurance,  was  about  to  give  way, 
when  I  perceived  that  a  handkerchief  was 
bound  tightly  around  his  leg  above  the 
knee,  where  a  great  stain  of  blood  marked  his 
trowser.  The  thought  of  his  being  wound- 
ed banished  every  particle  of  resentment, 
and  laying  my  hand  on  his  shoulder,  I  said, 

"De  Beauvais,  I  know  not  one  but  your- 
self to  whom  I  would  three  times  say,  for- 
give me;  but  we  were  friends  once,  when 
we  were  both  happier.  For  the  sake  of 
him  who  is  no  more — poor  Charles  de  Meu- 
don— " 

"A  traitor,  sir — a  base  traitor  to  the 
king  of  his  fathers." 

"  This  I  will  not  endure,"  said  I  pas- 
sionately.    "No  one  shall  dare — " 

"Dare  !" 

"  Ay,  dare,  sir — such  was  the  word.  To 
asperse  the  memory  of  one  like  him,  is  to 
dare  that  which  no  man  can  with  truth  and 
lionor." 

'"Come,  sir,  I'm  ready,"  said  De  Beau- 
vais, rising,  and  pointing  to  the  doer — 
"  Sortons! '"  No  one  who  has  not  heard 
that-one  word  pronounced  by  the  lips  of  a 
Frenchman  can  conceive  how  much  of  sav- 
age-enmity and  deadly  purpose  it  implies. 
It  is  the  challenge,  which,  if  unaccepted, 
stamps  cowardice  forever  on  the  man  who 
declines  it ;  from  that  hour  all  equality 
ceases  between  those  whom  a  combat  had 
placed  on  the  same  footing. 

"  Sorfans ! "  The  word  rung  in  my 
cars,  and  .tingled  through  my  very  heart, 
while  a  host  of  different  impulses  swayed 
■me.     Shame,   sorrow,    wounded  pride,  all 


struggling  for  the  mastery  ;  but,  above 
them  all,  a  better  and  a  higher  spirit — the 
firm  resolve,  come  what  would,  to  suffer 
no  provocation  De  Beauvais  could  offer,  to 
make  nie  stand  opposite  him  as  an  enemy. 

"What  am  I  to  think,  sir?"  said  he, 
with  a  voice  scarcely  articulate  from  pas- 
sion—  "what  em  I  to  think  of  your  hesi- 
tation, or  why  do  you  stand  inactive  here? 
Is  it  that  you  are  meditating  what  new 
insult  can  he  added  to  those  you  have 
heaped  on  me  ?  " 

."No,  sir,"  I  replied,  firmly;  "so  far 
from  thinking  of  offense,  I  am  but  too 
sorry  for  the  words  I  have  already  spoken. 
I  should  have  remembered,  and,  remember- 
ing, should  have  made  allowance  for,  the 
strength  of  partisan  feelings,  which  have 
their  origin  in  a  noble,  but,  as  I  believe,  a 
mistaken  source. 

"Indeed  !  "  interrupted  he,  in  mockery  ; 
"is  it,  then,  come  to  this?  Am  I,  a 
Frenchman  born,  to  be  lectured  on  my  loy- 
alty and  allegiance  by  a  foreign  merce- 
nary ?  " 

"Not  even  that  taunt,  De  Beauvais, 
shall  avail  you  anything  ;  I  am  firm  in  my 
resolve." 

"  Pardieu  !  then,"  cried  he.  with  savage 
energy,  "there  remains  but  this."  Ashe 
spoke!,  he  leaped  from  his  chair,  and  sprang 
toward  me.  In  so  doing,  however,  his 
knee  struck  the  table,  and,  with  a  groan  of 
agony,  he  reeled  back  and  fell  on  the  floor, 
while  from  his  reopened  wound  a  torrent  of 
blood  gushed  out  and  deluged  the  room. 

For  a  second  or  two  he  motioned  me 
away  with  his  hand  ;  but  as  his  weakness 
increased,  he  lay  passive  and  unresisting, 
and  suffered  me  to  arrest  the  bleeding  by 
such  means  as  I  was  able  to  practice. 

It  was  a  long  time  ere  I  could  stanch  the 
gaping  orifice,  which  had  been  inflicted  by 
a  sabre,  and  cut  clean  through  the  high 
boot,  and  deep  into  the  thigh.  Fortu- 
nately for  his  recovery,  he  had  himself  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  off  the  boot  before,  and 
the  wound  lay  open  to  my  surgical  skill. 
Lifting  him  cautiously  in  my  arms,  I  laid 
him  on  the  bed,  and  moistened  his  lips 
with  a  little  wine.  Still  the  debility  con- 
tinued :  no  signs  of  returning  strength 
were  there,  but  his  features,  pale  and 
fallen,  were  glazed  with  a  cold  sweat  that 
hung  in  heavy  drops  upon  his  brow -and 
forehead.  Never  was  agony  like  mine. 
I  saw  his  life  was  ebbing  fast ;  the  respira- 
tion was  growing  fainter  and  more  irregu- 
lar, his  pulse  could  scarce  be  felt,  yet  dare 
I  not  leave  my  post  to  seek  for  assistance. 
A  hundred  thoughts  whirled  through  my 
puzzled  brain,  and,   among  the  rest,  the 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


463 


self -accusing  one  that  I  was  the  cause  of 
his  death.  "Yes,"  thought  I,  "better 
far  to  have  stood  before  his  pistol,  at  all 
the  hazard  of  my  life,  than  see  him  thus.'1' 

In  an  instant  all  his  angry  speeches  and 
his  insulting  gestures  were  forgotten.  He 
looked  so  like  what  I  once  knew  him,  that 
my  mind  was  wandering  back  again  to  for- 
mer scenes  and  times,  and  all  resentment 
was  lost  in  the  flood  of  memory. 

Poor  fellow  !  what  a  sad  destiny  was 
his  ;  fighting  against  the  arms  of  his  coun- 
try— a  mourner  over  the  triumphs  of  his 
native  land!  Alien  that  1  was,  this  pang 
at  least  was  spared  me.  As  these  though  Is 
crossed  my  mind,  I  felt  him  press  my  hand. 
Overjoyed,  I  knelt  down  and  whispered 
some  words  in  his  ear. 

"  No,  no,"  muttered  he,  in  a  low,  plain- 
tive tone  ;  "  not  all  lost — not  all.  La 
Vendee  yet  remains."     He  was  dreaming. 


CHAPTER  LII. 


THE   ARMISTICE. 


As  I  sat  thus  watching  with  steadfast 
gaze  the  features  of  the  sleeping  man,  I 
heard  the  clattering  of  a  horse's  hoofs  on 
the  pavement  beneath,  and  the  next  mo- 
ment the  heavy  step  of  some  one  ascending 
the  stairs.  Suddenly  the  door  was  flung 
wide,  open,  and  an  officer  in  the  handsome 
uniform  of  the  Austrian  Imperial  Guard 
entered. 

"Excuse  this  scant  ceremony,  mon- 
sieur," said  he,  bowing  with  much  cour- 
tesy, ''but  I  almost  despaired  of  finding 
you  out.  I  come  from  Ilolitsch  with 
dispatches  for  your  Emperor  ;  they  are 
most  pressing,  as  I  believe  this  note  will 
inform  you." 

While  I  threw  my  eye  over  the  few  lines 
addressed  by  General  Savary  to  the  officer 
in  waiting  at  Holitsch,  and  commanding 
the  utmost  speed  in  forwarding  the  dispatch 
that  accompanied  them,  the  officer  drew 
near  the  bed  where  De  Beauvais  was  lying. 

"  Mere  de  del,  it  is  the  count !  "  cried  he, 
starting  back  with  astonishment. 

"Yes,"  said  I,  interrupting  him,  "I 
found  him  here  on  my  arrival ;  he  is  badly 
wounded,  and  should  be  removed  at  once. 
How  can  this  be  done  ?  " 

"Easily.  I'll  dispatch  my  orderly  at 
once  to  Holitsch,  and  remain  here  till  he 
return. " 

"  But  if  our  troops  advance  ?  " 

"No,  no — we're  all  safe  on  that  score  ; 
the  armistice  is  signed.     The  very  dispatch 


in    your   hands,    I    believe,   concludes   the 
treaty." 

This  warned  me  that  I  was  delaying  too 
long  the  important  duty  intrusted  tome, 
and,  with  a  hurried  entreaty  to  the  Austrian 
not  to  leave  De  Beauvais,  J  hastened  down 
the  stall's,  and  proceeded  to  saddle  for  the 
road. 

"One  word,  monsieur,"  said  the  officer, 
as  I  was  in  the  act  of  mounting.  '  .May  1 
ask  the  name  of  him  io  whom  my  brother 
officers  owe  the  life  of  a  comrade  much 
beloved  ?  " 

"  My  name  is  Burke — and  yours,  mon- 
sieur ?  " 

"  Berghau'sen,  chef  d'escadron  of  the 
Imperial  Guard.  If  ever  you  should  come 
to  Vienna — "  But  I  lost  the  words  that 
followed,  as,  spurring  my  horse  to  a  gallop, 
I  set  out  toward  the  head-quarters  of  the 
Emperor. 

As  I  rode  forward,  my  eyes  were  ever 
anxiously  bent  in  the  direction  of  our 
camp,  not  .knowing  at  what  moment  I 
might  see  the  advance  of  a  column  along 
the  road,  and  dreading  lest,  before  the 
dispatches  should  reach  the  Emperor's 
house,  the  advanced  vedettes  should  cap- 
ture the  little  party  at  Holitsch.  At  no 
period  of  his  career  was  Napoleon  more 
incensed  against  the  adherents  of  the  Bour- 
bons ;  and  if  De  Beauvais  should  fall  into 
his  hands,  I  was  well  aware  that  nothing 
could  save  him.  The  Emperor  always  con- 
nected in  his  mind,  and  with  good  reason, 
too,  the  machinations  of  the  royalists  with 
the  plans  of  the  English  government.  He 
knew  that  the  land  which  afforded  the 
asylum  to  their  king  was  the  refuge  of  the 
others  also  ;  and  many  of  the  heaviest  de- 
nunciations against  the  "  perfide  Albion  " 
had  no  other  source  than  the  dread  of 
which  he  could  never  divest  himself,  that 
the  legitimate  monarch  would  one  day  be 
restored  to  France. 

"While  such  were  Napoleon's  feelings,  the 
death  of  the  Due  d'Enghien  had  height- 
ened the  hatred  of  the  Bourbonists  to  a 
pitch  little  short  of  madness.  My  own 
unhappy  experience  made  me  more  than 
ever  fearful  of  being  in  any  way  implicated 
with  the  members  of  this  party,  and  I  rode 
on,  as  though  life  itself  depended  on  my 
reaching  the  imperial  head-quarters  some 
few  minutes  earlier. 

As  I  approached  the  camp,  I  was  over- 
joyed  to   find  that   no  movement  was  in 
The  men  were  engaged  in 
arms    and    accoutrements, 
broken   wagons    and    gun- 
repairing,  as  far  as   might 


contemplation, 
cleaning   their 
restoring    the 
carriages,  and 


be,  the  disorders  of  the  day  of  battle.     The 


404 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


officers  stood  in  groups  here  and  there. 
chatting  at  their  ease,  while  the  only  men 
under  anus  were  the  new  conscripts  jusi 

arrived  from  France — a  force  of  some  thou- 
sands— brought  by  forced  inarches  from 
the  hanks  of  the  Rhine. 

The  crowd  of  officers  near  the  head- 
quarters of  the  Emperor  pressed  closely 
about  me  as  I  descended  from  my  horse, 
eager  to  learn  what  information  I  brought 
from  Holitsch,  for  they  were  not  aware 
that  I  had  been  stationed  nearly  half-way 
on  the  road. 

"  Well,  Burke,"  said  General  d'Au- 
vergne,  as  he  drew  his  arm  Avithin  mine, 
"  your  coming  has  been  anxiously  looked 
for  this  morning.  I  trust  the  dispatches 
you  carry  may,  if  not  contradict,  at  least 
explain  what  lias  occurred." 

"Is  this  the  officer  from  Holitsch  ?  "  said 
the  aide-de-camp  of  the  Emperor,  coming 
hurriedly  forward.  "  The  dispatch,  sir," 
cried  he ;  and  the  next  moment  hastened 
to  the  little  hut,  which  Napoleon  occupied 
as  his  bivouac.  The  only  other  person  in 
the  open  space  where  I  stood  was  an  officer 
of  the  lancers,  whose  splashed  and  travel- 
stained  dress  seemed  to  say  he  had  been 
employed  like  myself. 

"I  fancy,  monsieur,"  said  he,  bowing, 
"that  you  have  had  a  sharp  ride  also  this 
morning.  I  have  just  arrived  from  Goding 
i — four  leagues — in  less  than  an  hour,  and, 
Avith  all  that,  too  late,  I  believe,  to  remedy 
what  has  occurred." 

"  What,  then,  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Davoust  has  been  tricked  into  an 
armistice,  and  suffered  the  Eussians  to  pass 
the  bridge.  The  Emperor  Alexander  has 
taken  advantage  of  the  negotiations  Avith 
Austria,  and  got  his  army  clear  through — 
so,  at  least,  it  would  seem.  I  saw  Napoleon 
tear  the  dispatch  into  fragments,  and  stamp 
his  foot  upon  them — but  here  he  comes." 

The  words  were  scarcely  spoken  when 
the  Emperor  came  rapidly  up,  followed  by 
his  staff.  He  Avore  a  gray  surtout,  trimmed 
with  dark  fur,  and  had  "his  hands  clasped 
within  the  cuffs  of  the  coat.  His  face  was 
pale  as  death,  and,  save  a  slight  contraction 
of  his  brows,  there  Avas  nothing  to  sIioav 
any  appearance  of  displeasure. 

"Who  brought  the  dispatch  from  God- 
ing?" _ 

"I  did,  sire,"  said  the  officer. 

■"  How  are  the  roads,  sir  ?  " 

■"  Much  cut  up,  and  in  one  place  a  tor- 
rent has  carried  away  part  of  a  bridge." 

"I  knew  it— I  knew  it,"  said  he,  bitterly  ; 
"  it  is  too  late.  Duroc,"  cried  he,  while 
the  words  seemed  to  come  forth  with  a 
.hissing  sound,  "did  I  not  tell  Arbu,  '  Grat- 


tez  le  Russe,  et  vous  trouverez  le  Tar- 
tare?'" 

The  words  were  graven  in  my  memory 
from  that  hour  ;  even  yet,  I  can  recall  the 
very  accents  as  when  I  heard  them. 

"And  you,  sir,"  said  he,  turning  sud- 
denly toward  me,  "you  came  from  General 
Savary.  Return  to  him  Avith  this  letter. 
Have  you  written,  Duroc?  Well,  you'll 
deliver  this  to  General  Savary  at  Holitsch. 
He  may  require  you  to  proceed  to  Goding 
— are  you  Avell  mounted  ? 

"  Yes,  sire." 

"  Come,  then,  sir  ;  I  made  you  a  captain 
yesterday,  let  us  see  if  you  can  Avin  your 
spurs  to-day." 

From  the  time  I  received  the  dispatch  to 
that  in  which  I  was  in  the  saddle  not  more 
than  five  minutes  elapsed.  The  idea  of 
being  chosen  by  the  emperor  himself  for  a 
service  was  a  proud  one,  and  I  resolved  to 
acquit  myself  with  credit.  With  what 
concert  dees  one's  heart  beat  to  the  free 
stride  of  a  mettled  charger  ;  how  does  each 
bold  plunge  warm  the  blood  and  stir  up  the 
spirits  ;  and  as,  careering  free  over  hill  and 
valley,  Ave  pass  in  our  flight  the  clouds 
that  drift  aboA7e,  how  does  the  sense  of  free- 
dom, realized  as  it  is,  impart  a  feeling  of 
ecstasy  to  our  minds— our  thoughts,  revel  - 
ing  on  the  wayward  liberty  our  course  sug- 
gests, rise  free  and  untrammeled  from  the 
doubts  and  cares  of  every-day  life.  Onward 
I  went,  and  soon  the  old  mill  came  in  sight, 
rearing  its  ruined  head  amid  the  black 
desolation  of  the  plain.  I  could  not  resist 
the  impulse  to  see  what  had  become  of  De 
Beauvais,  and  leading  my  horse  into  the 
kitchen,  I  hastened  up  the  stairs,  and 
through  the  rooms  ;  but  all  were  deserted  ; 
the  little  chamber  lay  open — the  granary 
too  — but  no  one  was  there. 

With  a  mind  relieAred,  in  a  great  measure, 
from  anxiety,  I  remounted  and  continued 
my  way  ;  and  soon  entered  the  dark  woods  of 
Holitsch.  The  chateau  and  demesne  were 
a  priA^ate  estate  of  the  Emperor  Francis,  and 
once  formed  a  favorite  resort  of  Joseph  II. 
in  his  hunting  excursions.  The  chateau 
itself  was  a  large,  irregular  mass  of.  build- 
ing ;  but  still,  with  all  its  incongruity  of 
architecture,  not  devoid  of  picturesque 
effect — and  the  older  portion  of  it  was  even 
handsome.  While  I  stood  in  front  of  along 
terrace,  on  which  several  windows  opened 
from  a  gallery  that  ran  along  one  side  of 
the  chateau,  I  was  somewhat  surprised  that 
no  guard  was  to  be  seen,  nor  even  a  single 
sentinel  on  duty.  I  dismounted,  and,  lead- 
ing my  horse,  approached  the  avenue  that 
led  up  between  a  double  range  of  statues  to 
the    door.     An  cM   man,    dressed  in   the 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


465 


slouched  hat  and  light  blue  jacket  of  a  Bo- 
hemian peasant,  was  busily  engaged  in 
wrapping  matting  around  some  shrubs,  to 
protect  them  from  the  frost.  A  little  boy 
— his  second  self  in  costume — stood  beside 
him,  with  his  pruning-knife,  and  stared  at 
me  with  a  kind  of  stupid  wonder  as  I  ap- 
proached. With  some  difficulty  I  made  out 
from  the  old  man  that  the  Emperor  oc- 
cupied a  smaller  building  called  the  Kaiser- 
Lust,  about  half  a  league  distant  in  the 
forest,  having  given  strict  orders  that  no 
one  was  to  approach  the  chateau  nor  its  im- 
mediate grounds.  It  was  his  favorite  re- 
treat, and,  perhaps,  he  did  not  wish  it 
should  be  associated  in  his  mind  with  a 
period  of  such  misfortune.  The  old  pea- 
sant continued  his  occupation  while  he 
spoke,  never  lifting  his  head  from  his  work, 
and  seeming  all  absorbed  in  the  necessity  of 
what  he  was  engaged  in.  As  I  inquired 
the  nearest  road  to  the  imperial  quarters,  he 
employed  me  to  assist  him  for  a  moment  in 
his  task,  by  holding  one  end  of  the  matting, 
with  which  he  was  now  about  to  envelop  a 
marble  statue  of  Maria  Theresa. 

1  could  not  refuse  a  request  so  naturally 
proffered,  and  while  I  did  so,  a  little  wicket- 
opened  at  a  short  distance  off,  and  a  tall 
man,  in  a  gray  surtout  and  a  plain  cocked- 
hat  without  a  feather,  came  forward  ;  he 
held  a  riding-whip  in  his  hand,  and  seemed, 
from  his  splashed  equipment,  to  have  just 
descended  from  the  saddle. 

"  Well,  Fritz,"  said  he,  "  I  hope  the  frost 
has  done  us  no  mischief  ?" 

The  old  gardener  turned  round  at  the 
words,  and,  touching  his  hat  respectfully, 
continued  his  work,  while  he  replied,  "No, 
Mein  Herr,  it  was  but  a  wdiite  hoar,  and 
everything  has  escaped  well." 

"And  whom  have  you  got  here  for  an 
assistant,  may  I  ask  ?  "  said  he,  pointing  to 
me,  whom  he  now  saw  for  the  first  time. 
As  the  question  was  asked  in  German,  al- 
though I  understood  it,  I  left  the  reply  to 
the  gardener. 

"  God  knows,"'  said  the  old  fellow,  in  a 
tone  of  easy  indifference  ;  "  I  think  he  must 
be  a  soldier  of  some  sort." 

The  other  smiled  at  the  remark,  and 
turning  toward  me,  said,  in  French,  "  You 
are,  perhaps,  unaware,  sir,  being  a  stranger, 
that  it  is  the  Emperor  of  Austria's  desire 
this  chateau  should  not  be  intruded  on." 

"My  offending,  sir,"  interrupted  I, 
"  was  purely  accidental.  I  am  the  bearer  of 
dispatches  for  General  Savary  and,  having 
stopped  to  inquire  from  this  honest  man — " 

"  The  general  has  taken  his  departure  for 
Goding,"  he  broke  in,  without  paying 
further  attention  to  my  explanation. 

VOL.  1—30 


"  For  Goding  ;  and  may  I  ask,  what  dis- 
tance that  may  be  ?" 

"Scarcely  a  league,  if  you  can  hit  upon 
the  right  path  ;  the  road  lies  yonder,  where 
you  see  that  dead  fir-tree." 

"I  thank  you,  sir,"  said  I,  touching  my 
hat;  "and  must  now  ask  my  friend  here 
to  release  me — my  orders  are  of  moment." 

"You  may  find  some  difficulty  in  the 
wood,  after  all,"  said  he;  "I'll  send  my 
groom  part  of  the  way  with  you." 

Before  I  could  proffer  my  thanks  suitably 
for  such  an  unexpected  politeness,  he  had 
disappeared  in  the  garden  through  winch  he 
entered  a  few  minutes  before. 

"I  say,  my  worthy  friend,  tell  me  the 
name  of  that  gentleman  ;  he's  one  of  the 
Emperor's  staff,  if  I  mistake  not.  I'm 
certain  I've  seen  the  face  before." 

"If  you  had,"  said  the  old  fellow,  laugh- 
ing, "  You  could  scarcely  forget  him  ;  old 
Frantzerl  is  just  the  same  these  twenty 
years. " 

"  Whom  did  you  say  ? "' 

Before  he  could  reply,  the  other  was  at 
my  .side. 

"  Now,"  sir,"  said  he,  "he  will  conduct 
you  to  the  high-road.  I  wish  }rou  a  good 
journey." 

These  words  were  uttered  in  a  tone  some- 
what more  haughty  than  his  previous  ones  ; 
and  contenting  myself  with  a  civil  acknowl- 
edgment of  his  attention,  I  bowed  and  re- 
turned to  my  horse,  which  the  little  pea- 
sant child  had  been  holding. 

"This  way,  monsieur,"  said  the  groom, 
who,  dressed  in  a  plain  dark  brown  livery, 
was  mounted  on  a  horse  of  great  size  and 
symmetry. 

"  As  he  spoke,  he  dashed  forward  at  a  gal- 
lop, which  all  my  efforts  could  not  succeed 
in  overtaking.  In  less  than  ten  minutes 
the  man  halted,  and,  waiting  till  I  came 
up,  lie  pointed  to  a  gentle  acclivity  before 
me,  across  which  the  high-road  led. 

"  There  lies  the  road,  sir  ;  continue  your 
speed,  and  in  twenty  minutes  you  reach 
Goding." 

"One  word,"  said  I,  drawing  forth  my 
purse  as  I  spoke — "  one  word.  Tell  me, 
who  is  your  master  ?" 

The  groom  smiled,  slightly  touched  his 
hat,  and,  without  uttering  a  word,  wdieeled 
round  his  horse,  and,  before  I  could  repeat 
my  question,  was  far  on  his  road  back  to 
the  chateau: 

Before  me  lay  the  river,  and  the  little 
bridge  of  Goding,  across  which  now  the 
Russian  columns  were  marching  in  rapid 
but  compact  order.  Their  cavalry  had 
nearly  all  passed,  and  was  drawn  with  some 
fjeld-kuns  alonsr  the  bank ;  while,  at  half- 


i6G 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


cannon-siioT;  distance,  the  corps  of  Davonst 
were  drawn  up  in  order  of  battle,  and 
standing  spectators  of  the  scene.  On  an 
eminence  of  the  field  a  splendid  staff  were 
assembled,  accompanied  by  a  troop  of 
Tartar  horsemen,  whose  gay  colors  and 
strange  equipment  were  a  remarkable  fea- 
ture of  the  picture  ;  and  here  1  learned  the 
Emperor  Alexander  then  was,  accompanied 
by  General  Savary. 

As  I  drew  near,  my  French  uniform 
caught  the  eye  of  the  latter,  and  he  can- 
tered forward  to  meet  me.  Tearing  open 
the  dispatch  with  eagerness,  he  rapidly  pe- 
rused the  few  lines  it  contained ;  then, 
seizing  me  by  the  arm  in  his  strong  grasp, 
he  exclaimed, 

"  Look  yonder,  sir ;  you  see  their  col- 
umns extending  to  Serritz.  Go  back  and 
tell  his  Majesty  ;  but  no,  my  own  mission 
here  is  ended.  You  may  return  to  Auster- 
litz."     •. 

So  saying,  he  rode  back  to  the  group 
around  the  Emperor,  where  I  saw  him  a 
few  minutes  after  addressing  his  Majesty, 
and  then,  after  a  formal  leave-taking,  .turn 
his  horse's  head  and  set  out  toward  Brunn. 

As  I  retraced  my  steps  toward  the  camp, 
I  began  to  muse  over  the  events  which  had 
just  occurred  ;  and  even  by  the  imperfect 
glimpses  I  could  catch  of  the  negotiations, 
could  perceive  that  the  Czar  had  out-ma- 
neuvered Napoleon.  It  is  true,  I  was  not 
aware  by  what  means  the  success  had  been 
obtained,  nor  was  it  for  many  a  year  after 
that  I  became  cognisant  of  the  few  auto- 
graph lines  by  which  Alexander  induced 
Davoust  to  suspend  his  operations,  under 
the  pretense  that  the  Austrian  armistice 
included  the  Russian  army.  It  was  an 
unworthy  act,  and  ill-befitting  one  whose 
high  personal  courage  and  chivalrous  bear- 
ing gave  promise  of  better  things. 


CHAPTER   LIII. 

THE    "  COMPAGNIE   D'eLITE." 

With  whatever  triumphant  feelings  the 
Emperor  Napoleon  may  have  witnessed  the 
glorious  termination  of  this  brief  campaign, 
to  the  young  officers  of  the  army  it  brought 
anything  rather  than  satisfaction  ;  and  the 
news  of  the  armistice  was  received  in  the 
camp  with  gloom  and  discontent. 

The  brilliant  action  at  Elchingen,  and 
the  great  victory  at  Austerlitz,  were  hailed 
as  a  glorious  presage  of  future  successes, 
for  which  the  high-sounding  phrases  of  a 
bulletin  were  deemed  but  a  poor  requital. 


A  great  proportion  of  the  army  were  new 
levies,  who  had  not  seen  service,  and  felt 
proportionally  desirous  for  opportunities 
of  distinction  ;  and  to  them  the  promise  of 
a  triumphant  return  to  France  was  a  miser- 
able exchange  for  those  battle-fields  on 
which  they  dreamed  they  should  win  honor 
and  fame,  and  from  whence  they  hoped  to 
date  their  rise  of  fortune.  Little  did  we 
guess  that,  while  words  of  peace  and  avow- 
als of  moderation  were  on  his  lips,  Napoleon 
was  at  that  very  moment  meditating  on  the 
opening  of  that  great  campaign  which,  be- 
ginning at  Jena,  was  to  end  in  the  most 
bloody  and  long-sustained  of  all  his  wars. 

Nothing,  however,  was  now  talked  of 
but  the  fetes  which  awaited  us  on  our  re- 
turn to  Paris,  while  liberal  grants  of  money 
were  made  to  all  the  wounded ;  and  no 
effort  was  spared  which  should  mark  that 
feeling  of  the  Emperor's,  which  so  conspicu- 
ously opened  his  bulletin,  in  the  emphatic 
words — "Soldiers,  I  am  content  with 
you  ! " 

Napoleon  well  understood,  and,  indeed, 
appeared  to  have  anticipated,  the  disap- 
pointment the  army  would  experience  at 
this  sudden  cessation  of  hostilities,  and  en- 
deavored now  to  divert  the  torrent  of  their 
enthusiasni  into  another  and  a  safer  chan- 
nel. The  bulk  of  the  army  were  cantoned 
around  Brunn  and  Olmutz  ;  some  picked 
regiments  were  recalled  to  Vienna,  where 
the  Emperor  was  soon  expected  to  establish 
his  head-quarters,  while  many  of  those  who 
had  suffered  most  severely  from  forced 
marches  and  fatigues  were  formed  into 
corps  of  escort,  to  accompany  the  Russian 
prisoners — sixteen  thousand  in  number — 
on  their  way  to  France ;  and  lastly,  a 
" compagnie  d'clife,^  as  it  was  called,  was 
selected  to  carry  to  the  senate  the  glorious 
spoils  of  victory  —  forty-five  standards, 
taken  on  .the  field  of  Austerlitz,  and  now 
destined  to  grace  the  Palace  of  the  Luxem- 
bourg. 

I  had  scarcely  seated  myself  to  the  hum- 
ble supper  of  my  bivouac,  when  an  orderly 
came  to  command  me  to  General  d'Au- 
vergne's  quarters.  The  little  sitting-room 
he  occupied,  in  a  peasant  hut,  was  so  filled 
with  officers,  that  it  was  some  time  before 
I  could  approach  him  ;  and  my  impatience 
was  not  lessened  by  more  than  once  hear- 
ing my  name  mentioned  aloud — a  circum- 
stance not  a  little  trying  to  a  young  man 
in  the  presence  of  his  superiors  in  station. 

"But  here  he  is,"  said  the  General, 
beckoning  to  me  to  come  forward. 
"Burke,  his  Majesty  has  most  graciously 
permitted  me  to  include  your  name  in  the 
compagnie  d'elite — a  testimony  of  his  satis- 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


4G7 


faction  you've  every  reason  to  be  proud  of  ;  j 
and  just  at  the  moment  I  was  about  to 
communicate  the  fact  to  you,  I  have  re- 
ceived a  message  from  Marshal  Murat, 
requesting  that  I  may  permit  you  to  serve 
on  his  own  staff." 

"Yes,  captain,"  said  an  officer  in  the 
uniform  of  a  colonel — it  was  the  first  time 
I  had  been  addressed  by  my  new  title,  and 
I  cannot  express  what  a  thrill  of  pleasure 
the  Avord  gave  me — "Marshal  Murat  wit- 
nessed with  pleasure  the  alacrity  and  stead- 
iness of  your  conduct  on  the  2nd,  and  has 
sent  me  "with  an  offer  which  I  fancy  few 
officers  would  not  deem  a  flattering  one." 

"Unquestionably  it  is,  colonel,"  said 
General  d'Auvergne.  "  Nay,  more,  I  will 
say  I  regard  it  as  the  making  of  a  young 
man's  fortune,  thus  early  in  his  career  to 
have  attracted  such  high  notice.  But  I 
must  be  passive  here — Captain  Burke  shall 
decide  for  himself." 

"  In  that  case,  sir,  I  shall  cause  you  but 
little  delay,  if  you  will  still  permit  me  to 
serve  on  your  own  staff." 

"But  stay,  my  boy,  do  not  be  rash  in 
this  affair  ;  I  will  not  insult  your  better 
feeling  by  dwelling  on  the  little  power  I 
possess,  and  the  very  great  enjoyed  by  Mar- 
shal Murat,  of  serving  your  interests ;  but 
I  must  say,  that  with  him,  and  on  his 
personal  staff,  opportunities  of  distinc- 
tion—" 

"And  here  I  must  interpose,"  said  the 
Colonel,  smiling  courteously  ;  "  with  no 
officer  in  this  army  can  a  man  expect  to  see 
service,  in  its  boldest  and  most  heroic  col- 
ors, rather  than  with  General  d"Auvergne." 

"I  know  it — I  feel  it,  too — and  with  him, 
if  he  will  allow  me — " 

"Enough,  my  dear  boy,"  said  the  old 
man,  grasping  my  hand  in  his.  "  Colonel, 
you  must  explain  to  the  marshal  how 
stands  this  matter  ;  and  he  is  too  kind  of 
heart,  and  too  noble  of  soul,  to  think  the 
worse  of  any  of  us  for  our  obstinacy.  And 
now,  my  young  friend,  make  your  arrange- 
ments to  join  the  compagnie  tf  elite — they 
march  to-morrow  afternoon,  and  this  is  a 
service. you  cannot  decline.  Leave  me  to 
make  your  acknowledgments  to  the  mar- 
shal, and  lose  no  more  time  here." 

Short  as  had  been  my  absence  from  my 
quarters,  when  I  re-entered,  I  descried 
Tascher  seated  at  the  table,  and  busily  em- 
•  ployed  in  discussing  the  last  fragments  of 
my  supper.  "You  see,  my  dear  friend," 
said  he,  sneaking  with  his  mouth  full — 
"  you  see  what  it  is  to  have  a  '  salmi '  for 
supper.  I  sat  eating  a  confounded  mess  of 
black  bread,  and  blacker  veal,  for  fifteen 
rr'r'ites,  when  the  breeze  brought  me  the 


odor  of  your  delicious  'plat.'  It  was  in 
vain  I  summoned  all  my  virtue  to  resist  it ; 
if  there  ever  was  a  dish  made  to  seduce  a 
subaltern  on  service,  it  is  this.  But  I  say, 
won't  you  eat  something  ?  " 

"I  fear  not,"  said  I,  half  angrily. 

"And  why  ?"  replied  lie.  "  See  what  a 
capital  wing  that  is — a  little  bare,  to  be 
sure — and  there's  the  back  of  a  pigeon. 
Mafoi,  you  have  no  reason  to  complain.  I 
say,  is  it  true  you  are  named  among  the 
'  compagnie  d* elite  ?  '  " 

I  nodded,  and  ate  on. 

"Diable!  There  never  was  such  fortune. 
What  a  glorious  exchange  for  this  con- 
founded swamp,  with  its  everlasting  drill, 
from  morning  to  night,  shivering  under 
arms  for  four  hours,"  and  shaking  with  the 
ague  the  rest  of  the  day  after — marching, 
mid-leg  in  water,  half  frozen,  and  trying 
quick  movements,  when  the  very  blood  is 
in  icicles  ;  and  then  you'll  be  enjoying 
Paris — delightful  Paris — dining  at  the 
'  Rocher,'  supping  at  the  '  Cadrari,'  loung- 
ing into  the  salons,  at  the  very  time  we 
shall  be  hiding  ourselves  amidst  the  straw 
of  our  bivouacs.  I  go  mad  to  think  of  it  ; 
and  what's  worse  than  all,  there  you  sit.  as 
little  elated  as  if  the  whole  thing  were  only 
the  most  natural  in  the  world.  I  believe, 
on  my  word,  you'd  not  condescend  to  he 
surprised  if  you  were  gazetted  Marechal  de 
France  in  to-morrow's  gazette." 

"When  I  can  bear, "  without  testifying 
too  much  astonishment,  to  see  my  supper 
eaten  by  the  man  who  does  nothing  but 
rate  me  into  the  bargain,  perhaps  I  may 
plume  myself  on  some  equanimity  of  tem- 
per. " 

"  Confound  your  equanimity  !  It's  very 
easy  to  be  satisfied  when  one  has  everything 
his  own  way." 

"And  so,  Tascher,  you  deem  me  such  a 
fortunate  fellow  ?  " 

"  That  I  do,"  replied  he,  quickly.  "You 
have  had  more  good  luck,  and  made  less  of 
it,  than  any  one  I  ever  knew.  What  a  ca- 
reer you  had  before  you  when  we  met  first. 
There  was  that  pretty  girl  at  the  Tuileries 
quite  ready  to  fall  in  love  with  you.  I 
know  it,  because  she  rather  took  an  air  of 
coldness  with  me.  Well,  you  let  her  be 
carried  off  by  an  old  general,  with  a  white 
head  and  a  queue — unquestionably  a  bit  of 
pique  on  her  part.  Then,  somehow  or 
other,  you  contrived  to  pink  the  best 
swordsman  of  the  army,  little  Francis 
there  ;  and  I  never  heard  that  the  circum- 
stance gained  you  a  single  conquest." 

"Quite  true,  my  friend,"  said  I,  laugh- 
ing; "I  confess  it  all  ;  and,  what  is  far 
worse,  I   acknowledge  that  until  this  mo« 


-KJ8 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WOEA'S. 


ment  I  did  not  even  know  the  advantages  I 
was  willfully  wasting." 

"And  even  now,"  continued  lie,  not 
minding  my  interruption — "  even  now,  you 
are  about  to  return  to  Paris  as  one  of  the 
'elite.'  Well,  I'll  wager  twenty  Naps  that 
the  only  civil  speeches  you'll  hear  will  be 
from  some  musty  old  .senators  at  the  Lux- 
embourg. Oh,  dear!  if  my  amiable  aunt, 
the  Empress,  would  only  induce  my  most 
benevolent  uncle,  the  Emperor,  to  put  me 
on  that  same  list,  depend  upon  it  you'd 
hear  of  Lieutenant  Tascher  in  the  '  Fau- 
bourg St.  Honore.'" 

"But  you  seem  to  forget,"  said  I,  half 
piqued  at  last  by  the  impertinence  of  his 
tone,  "that  I  have  neither  friends  nor  ac- 
quaintances— that,  although  a  Frenchman 
by  service,  I  am  not  so  by  birth." 

"And  1 — what  am  I  ?"  interrupted  he — ■ 
"a  Creole,  come  from  Heaven  knows  what 
far-away  place  beyond  seas — that  there 
never  was  a  man  with  more  expensive  tastes, 
and  smaller  means  to  supply  them — with 
worse  prospects,  and  better  connections  ;  in 
short,  a  kind  of  live  antithesis  :  and  yet, 
with  all  that,  exchange  places  with  me 
now,  and  see  if,  before  a  fortnight  elapse,  I 
have  not  more  dinner  invitations  than  any 
officer  of  the  same  grade  within  the  Boule- 
vards. Watch,  if  the  prettiest  girl  at  Paris 
is  not  at  my  side  in  the  Opera.  But  here 
comes   your   official    appointment,  I    take 

if  " 

As  he  said  this,  an  orderly  of  the  "Garde  " 
delivered  a  sealed  packet  into  my  hands, 
which,  on  opening,  I  discovered  was  a  letter 
from  Grcnaral  Duroe,  wherein  I  read,  "  that 
it  was  the  wish  of  his  Majesty,  Emperor 
and  King,  that  I,  his  well-beloved  Thomas 
Burke,  in  conformity  with  certain  instruc- 
tions, to  be  afterward  made  known  to  me, 
should  proceed  with  the  compagnie  d'elite 
to  Paris,  then  and  there — " 

As  I  read  thus  far  aloud,  Tascher  inter- 
rupted me,  snatching  the  paper  from  my 
hands,  and  continued  thus  : 

"Then  and  there  to  mope,  muse,  and  be 
ennuyc,  until  such  time  as  active  service 
may  again  recall  him  to  the  army.  My  dear 
Burke,  I  am  really  sorry  for  you— wars  and 
campaigning  may  be,  indeed  they  arc,  very 
fine  things,  but  as  the  means,  not  the  end. 
His  Majesty,  my  uncle — whom  may  Heaven 
preserve  and  soften  his  heart  to  his  rela- 
tions— loves  them  for  their  own  sake  ;*but 
we,  you  and  I,  for  instance,  what  possible 
reason  can  wo  have  for  risking  our  bones, 
and  getting  our  flesh  mangled,  save  the 
hope  of  promotion — and  to  what  end  that 
same  promotion,  if  not  for  a  wider  sphere 
of  pleasure  and  enjoyment  ?     Think  what 


a  career  a  colonel,  at  our  age,  would  have 
in  Paris  !  " 

"Come,  Tascher,  I  will  not  believe  you 
in  all  this.  If  there  were  not  something 
higher  to  reward  one  for  the  fatigues  and 
dangers  of  a  campaign  than  the  mere  sen- 
sual delights  you  allude  to,  i,  for  one,  would 
soon  doff  the  epaulettes." 

"You  are  impracticable,"  suid  he,  half 
angrily  ;  "but  it  is  as  much  from  the  isola- 
tion in  which  you  have  lived  as  any  convic- 
tion on  the  subject.  You  must  let  me  intro- 
duce you  to  some  relatives  of  mine  in  Paris, 
they  will  be  delighted  to  know  you  ;  for,  as 
one  of  the  compagnie  d'elite,  you  might 
figure  as  a  very  respectable  '  lion'  for  two, 
nay,  three  entire  evenings  ;  and  you  will 
have  the  entree  to  the  pleasantest  house  in 
Paris.  They  receive  every  evening — and  all 
the  best  people  resort  there.  1  only  exact 
one  condition." 

"And  that  is—" 

"You  must  not  make  love  to  Pauline. 
That  you  will  fall  in  love  with  her  your- 
self is  a  fact  I  can't  help — nor  you  either. 
But  no  advance  on  your  part — promise  me 
that." 

"  In  such  case,  Tascher,  it  were  best  for 
all  parties  I  should  not  know  the  lady.  I 
have  no  fancy,  believe  me,  for  being  smit- 
ten whether  I  will  or  no." 

"  I  see,  Master  Burke,  there  is  a  bit  of 
impertinence  in  all  this — you  sneer  at  my 
warnings  about  'la  belle  cousine.'  Now,  I 
am  determined  you  glial!  see  her  at  least ; 
besides,  you  must  do  me  a  service  with  the 
countess.  I  have  had  the  'bad  luck  to  be 
for  some  time  out  of  favor  with  my  aunt 
Josephine — some  trumpery  debts  of  mine 
they  make  a  work  about  at  the  Tuilerics. 
Well,  perhaps  you  could  persuade  Madame 
de  Lacostellerie  to  take  up  my  cause — she 
has  great  influence  with  the  Empress,  and 
can  make  her  do  what  she  pleases  ;  and,  if 
I  must  confess  it,  it  was  this  brought  me 
over  to  your  quarters  to-night  ;  and  I  ate 
your  supper  just  to  pass  away  time  till 
you  came  back  again.  You'll  not  refuse 
me  ?  " 

"Certainly  not;  but  reflect  for  a  mo- 
ment, Tascher,  and  you  will  see  that  no 
man  was  ever  less  intended  for  a  diplomate. 
It  is  only  a  few  minutes  since  you  laughed 
at  my  solitary  habits  and  hermit  propensi- 
ties." 

"  I've  thought  of  all  that,  Burke,  and 
am  not  a  whit  discouraged — on  the  contra- 
ry, you  are  the  more  likely  to  think  of  my 
affairs  because  you  have  none  of  your  own 
— and  I  don't  know  any  one  but  yourself  I 
should  fancy  to  meet'  Pauline  frequently 
and  on  terms  of  intimacy." 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


409 


"This,  at  least,  is  not  a  compliment," 
said  I,  laughing. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  threw  up 
his  eyebrows  with  a  French  expression,  as 
though  to  say,  it  can't  be  helped,  and  then 
continued:  "And  now  remember,  Burke, 
I  count  on  you — get  me  out  of  this  con- 
founded place.  I'd  rather  be  back  at  Tou- 
lon again,  if  need  be  ;  and — as  I  shall  not 
see  you  again  before  you  leave — farewell. 
I'll  send  the  letter  for  the  countess  early 
to-morrow." 

We  shook  hands  warmly  and  parted  ;  he 
to  return  to  his  quarters,  and  I  to  sit  down 
beside  my  fire,  and  muse  over  the  events 
that  had  just  occurred,  and  think  of  Tas- 
cher himself,  whose  character  had  never 
been  so  plainly  exposed  to  me  before. 

If  De  Beauvais,  with  his  hot-headed  im- 
petuosity, his  mad  devotion  to  the  cause  of  j 
the  Legitimists,  was  a  type  of  the  followers 
of  the  Bourbons,  so,  in  all  the  easy  indif-  j 
ference  and  quiet  selfishness  of  his  nature,  | 
was  Tascher  a  specimen  of  another  class  of  ! 
his  countrymen — a  class  which,  wrapped 
up  in  its  own  circle  of  egotistical  enjoy- 
ments, believed  Paris  the  only  habitable 
spot  of  the  whole  globe.  Without  any 
striking  traits  of  character,  or  any  very  de- 
cided vices,  they  led  a  life  of  pleasure  and 
amusement,  rendering  every  one  and  every- 
thing around  them,  so  far  as  they  were 
able,  subservient  to  their  own  plans  and 
wishes,  and  perfectly  unconscious  the  while 
how  glaring  their  selfishness  had  become, 
and  how  palpable,  even  to  the  least  obser- 
vant, was  the  self-indulgence  they  prac- 
ticed on  every  occasion.  Without  clever- 
ness or  tact  enough  to  conceal  their  fail- 
ings, they  believed  they  imposed  on  others 
because  they  imposed  on  themselves — just 
as  the  child  deems  himself  unseen  when  he 
closes  his  eyes. 

Josephine's  followers  were,  many  of  them, 
like  this,  and  formed  a  striking  contrast  to 
the  young  men  of  the  Napoleonite  party, 
who,  infatuated  by  the  glorious  successes 
of  their  chief,  deemed  the  career  of  arms 
alone  honorable.  St.  Cyr  and  the  Poly- 
technique  were  the  nurseries  of  these;  the 
principles  instilled  there  were  perpetuated 
in  after  life  ;  and  however  exaggerated 
their  ideas  of  France  and  her  destiny,  their 
undoubted  heroism  and  devotion  might 
well  have  palliated  even  heavier  errors.  It 
was  in  rimiinating  thus  over  the  different 
characters  of  the  few  I  had  ever  known  in- 
timately, that  I  came  to  think  seriously  on 
my  own  condition,  which,  for  many  a  day 
before,  I  had  rather  avoided  than  sought 
to  reflect  on.  I  felt,  as  how  many  must 
have  done,   that  the   bond  of  a  common 


country — the  inborn  patriotism  of  the  na- 
tive of  the  soil — is  the  great  resource  on 
which  men  fall  back  when  they  devote 
themselves  to  the  career  of  arms  :  that  the 
alien's  position,  disguise  it  how  he  will,  is 
that  of  the  mere  mercenary.  How  can  he 
identify  himself  with  interests  on  which  he 
is  but  half-informed,  or  feel  attachment  to 
a  land  wherein  ho  has  neither  hearth  nor 
home?  In  the  very  glory  he  wins  he  can 
scarce  participate.  In  a  word,  his  is  a  false 
position,  which  no  events  nor  accidents  of 
fortune  can  turn  to  good  account,  and  he 
must  rest  satisfied  with  a  life  of  isolation 
and  estrangement. 

I  felt  how  readily,  if  I  had  been  a  French- 
man born,  I  could  have  excused  and  palliat- 
ed to  my  conscience  many  things  which 
now  were  matters  of  reproach.  Aggres- 
sive war  had  lost  its  horrors  in  the  glory 
of  enlarged  dominions  ;  the  greatness  of 
France,  and  the  honor  of  her  arms,  had 
made  me  readily  forget  the  miseries  entailed 
on  other  nations  by  her  lust  of  conquest. 
But  I — the  stranger,  the  alien — had  no 
part  in  the  inheritance  of  glory;  and  per- 
sonal ambition,  what  means  it,  save  to 
stand  high  amongst  those  we  once  looked 
up  to  as  superiors?  For  me  there  were  no 
traditions  of  a  childhood  passed  amid  great 
names,  revered  and  worshiped  ;  no  early 
teachings  of  illustrious  examples  beside 
the  paternal  hearth.  And  yet  there  was 
one,  although  lost  to  me  forever,  before 
whose  eyes  I  would  gladly  seem  to  hold  a 
high  place.  Yes  ;  could  I  but  think  that 
she  had  not  forgotten  me,  would  hear  my 
name  with  interest,  or  feel  one  throb  of 
pleasure  if  I  were  spoken  of  with  honor — 
I  asked  no  more. 

"A  letter,  Monsieur  le  Capitaine"  said 
my  servant,  as  he  deposited  a  package  on 
my  table.  Supposing  it  was  the  epistle  of 
which  Tascher  spoke,  I  paid  but  slight 
attention  to  it,  when,  by  chance,  I  remark- 
ed it  was  in  General  d'Auvergne's  hand- 
writing. I  opened  it  at  once,  and  read  as 
follows: 

"My  dear  Burke, — No  one  ever  set 
off  for  Paris  without  being  troubled  with 
commissions  for  his  country  friends,  and 
you  must  not  escape  the  ills  of  common 
humanity.  Happily  for  you,  however, 
the  debt  is  easily  acquitted  :  I  have  neither 
undiscovered  shades  of  silk  to  be  matched, 
nor  impossible  bargains  to  be  effected.  I 
shall  simply  beg  of  you  to  deliver  with 
your  own  hand  the  inclosed  letter  to  its 
address  at  the  Tnileries,  adding,  if  you 
think  fit,  the  civil  attentions  of  a  visit. 

"We   shall   both,  in   all   likelihood,  be 


470 


CHARLES  LEVERS    WORKS. 


much  hurried  when  wo  meet  to-morrow — 
for  I  also  have  received  orders  to  march — 
so  that  I  take  the  present  opportunity  to 
inclose  you  a  check  on  Paris  for  a  trifle  in 
advance  of  your  pay — remembering  too 
well,  in  my  own  aide-de-camp  days,  the  di- 
latory habits  of  the  War  Office  with  new 
captains. 

"  Yours  ever,  dear  Burke, 

"  D'Auvergne,  Lieut. -General. 

"  Bivouac,  11  o'clock." 

The  letter  of  which  he  spoke  had  fallen 
on  the  table,  where  I  now  read  the  address 
. — UA  Madame  la  Comtesse  d'Auvergne, 
nee  Comtesse  de  Meudon,  dame  dlionneur 
de  S.  M.  VImperatrice."  As  I  read  these 
lines,  I  felt  my  face  grow  burning  hot,  my 
cheeks  flushed  up,  and  I  could  scarcely 
h^ve  been  more  excited  were  I  actually  in 
her  presence  to  whom  the  letter  was  des- 
tined. The  poor  general's  kind  note,  his 
check  for  eight  thousand  francs,  lay  there 
— I  forgot  them  both,  and  sat  still,  spelling 
over  the  letters  of  that  name  so  woven  in 
my  destiny.  I  thought  of  the  first  night 
I  had  ever  heard  it — when,  a  mere  boy,  I 
wept  over  her  sorrows,  and  grieved  for  her 
whose  fate  was  so  soon  to  throw  its  shadow 
over  my  own.  But,  in  a  moment,  all  gave 
way  before  the  one  thought — I  should  see 
her  again,  speak  to  her,  and  hear  her  voice. 
It  is  true,  she  was  the  wife  of  another,  but, 
as  Marie  de  Meudon,  our  destinies  were  as 
wide  apart;  under  no  circumstances  could 
she  have  been  mine,  nor  did  I  ever  dare  to 
hope  it.  My  love  to  her,  for  it  was  such — 
ardent  and  passionate — was  more  the  de- 
votion of  some  worshiper  at  a  shrine,  than 
an  affection  that  sought  return.  The 
friendless  soldier  of  fortune — poor,  un- 
known, uncared  for — how  could  he  raise 
his  thoughts  to  one  for  whose  hand  the  no- 
blest and  the  bravest  were  suitors  in  vain? 
Yet,  with  all  this,  how  my  heart  throbbed 
to  think  that  we  should  meet  again.  Nor 
was  the  thought  less  stirring  that  I  felt 
that,  even  in  the  short  interval  of  absence, 
I  had  won  praise  from  him,  for  whom  her 
admiration  was  equal  to  my  own.  With 
all  the  turmoil  of  my  hopes  and  fears  I  felt 
a  rush  of  pleasure  at  my  heart;  and  when 
I  slept,  it  was  to  dream  of  happy  days  to 
come,  and  a  future  far  brighter  than  the 
past. 

My  first  thought,  when  morning  broke, 
was  to  ride  over  to  Reygern,  to  learn  the 
fate  of  my  wounded  friends.  On  my  way 
thither,  I  fell  in  with  several  officers, 
bound  on  a  similar  errand,  for  already  the 
convent  had  become  the  great  hospital,  to 
which   the    sufferers    were   brought    from 


every  part  of  the  camp.  As  we  went 
along,  1  was  much  struck  by  the  depres- 
sion of  spirit  so  remarkable  everywhere  ; 
the  battle  over,  all  the  martial  enthusiasm 
seemed  to  have  evaporated.  Many  gram- 
bled  at  the  tiresome  prospect  of  a  winter 
in  country  quarters,  or  cantoned  in  the 
field  ;  some  regretted  the  briefness  of  the 
campaign  ;  while  others  again  complained, 
(hat  to  return  to  France  after  so  little  of 
active  service  would  only  expose  them  to 
ridicule  from  their  companions,  who  had 
seen  Italy  and  Egypt. 

"  Spare  your  sorrows  on  that  score,  my 
young  friends,"  said  a  colonel,  who  listened 
patiently  to  the  complaints  around  him. 
"  We  shall  not  see  the  dome  of  the  Inva- 
lides  for  some  time  yet.  Except  the  com- 
pagnie  d'elite,  I  fancy  few  of  us  will  figure 
on. the  Boulevards." 

"  There  again,"  cried  another  ;  "  I  never 
heard  anything  so  unfair  as  that  compagnie 
d'elite;  they  have  been,  with  two  solitary 
exceptions,  taken  from  the  cavalry.  Aus- 
terlitz  was  to  he  the  day  of  honor  for  the 
infantry  of  France,  said  the  bulletin." 

"  And  so  it  was,"  interrupted  a  little 
dark-eyed  major;  "and  I  suppose  his 
Majesty  thought  we  had  enough  of  it  on 
the  field,  and  did  not  wish  to  surfeit  us 
with  glory.  But  I  ask  pardon,"  said  he, 
turning  toward  me,  "  Monsieur  is,  if  I 
mistake  not,  named  one  of  the  elite.''7 

As  I  replied  in  the  affirmative,  I  observed 
all  eyes  turned  toward  me,  but  not  with 
any  kindly  expression — far  from  it.  I  saw 
that  there  was  a  deliberate  canvass  of  me, 
as  though  to  see  by  my  outward  man  how 
I  could  possibly  deserve  such  a  favor. 

"Can  you  explain  to  us,  monsieur,"  said 
the  little  major  to  me,  "  on  what  principle 
the  elite  were  chosen  ?  for  we  have  a  thou- 
sand contradictory  reports  in  the  camp — 
some  say,  by  ballot — some,  that  it  was  only 
those  who  never  soiled  their  jackets  in  the 
affair  of  the  other  day,  and  looked  fresh 
and  smart." 

A  burst  of  laughter  from  the  rest  inter- 
rupted the  major's  speech,  for  its  imperti- 
nence was  quite  sufficient  to  secure  it 
many  admirers. 

"I  believe,  sir,"  said  I,  angrily,  "I  can 
show  you  some  reasons  against  the  selec- 
tion of  certain  persons."  As  I  got  thus 
far,  an  officer  whispered  something  into 
the  major's  ear,  who,  with  a  ro#r  of  laugh- 
ing, exclaimed, 

"  A  thousand  pardons  ;  ten  thousand, 
parbleu.  I  didn't  know  you.  It  was  mon- 
sieur pinked  Francois,  the  maitred' amies — 
yes,  yes  ;  don't  deny  it,"  said  he,  as  I  made 
no  reply  whatever  to  a  question  I  believed 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS. 


471 


quite  irrelevant  to  the  occasion.  "  Don't 
deny  it  ;  that  lunge  over  the  guard  was  a 
thing  to  be  proud  of  ;  and,  by  Jove  !  you 
shall  not  practice  it  at  my  expense." 

This  speech  excited  great  amusement 
among  the  party,  who  seemed  to  coincide 
perfectly  with  the  reasoning  of  the  speaker  ; 
while  I  myself  remained  silent,  unable  to 
decide  whether  I  ought  to  be  annoyed,  or  the 
reverse. 

"Come,  monsieur,"  resumed  the  major, 
addressing  me  with  courtesy,  "  I  ask  par- 
don for  the  liberty  of  my  speech.  By  St. 
Denis  !  if  all  the  compagnie  d "(lite  have  the 
same  skill  of  fence,  I'll  not  question  their 
appointment."  The  candor  of  the  avowal 
was  too  much  for  my  gravity,  and  I  now 
joined  in  the  mirth  of  his  companions. 

If  I  have  mentioned  so  trivial  an  inci- 
dent as  this  here,  it  is  because  I  wish  to 
mark,  even  thus  passingly,  a  trait  of  French 
military  life.  The  singular  confession  of  a 
man,  who  regretted  his  impertinence  be- 
cause he  discovered  his  adversary  was  a 
better  swordsman,  would,  under  any  other 
code,  or  in  any  other  country,  have  argued 
poltroonery.  Not  so  here  ;  no  one  for  a 
moment  suspected  his  comrade's  courage, 
nor  could  any  circumstance  arise  to  make 
it  doubtful,  save  an  actual  instance  of  cow- 
ardice. The  inequality  of  the  combat  was 
reason  enough  for  not  engaging  in  it.  The 
odds  were  unfair,  because  dueling  was 
like  a  game,  where  each  party  was  to  have  an 
equal  chance,  and  hence  no  shame  was  felt  at 
declining  a  contest  where  this  inequality 
existed. 

Such  a  system,  it  is  obvious,  could  not 
have  prevailed  in  communities  where  duel- 
ing was  only  resorted  to  in  extreme  cases  ; 
but  here  it  was  an  every-day  occurrence, 
and  often  formed  but  a  brief  interval, 
scarce  interrupting  the  current  of  an  old 
friendship.  Any  resentful  spirit,  any  long- 
continued  dislike  to  the  party  "with  whom 
you  once  fought,  would  have  been  de- 
nounced as  unofficer-like  and  ungenerous.; 
and  every  day  saw  men  walking  arm-in- 
arm, in  closest  intimacy,  who,  but  the 
morning  before,  stood  opposed  to  each  oth- 
ers weapons. 

I  now  perceived  the  truth  of  what 
Minette  had  once  said,  and  which,  at  the 
time,  I  but  imperfectly  comprehended. 
"  Maitre  Francois  will  be  less  troublesome 
in  future,  and  you,  lieutenant,  will  have  an 
easier  life  also." 

"Halt  there  !"  shouted  a  sentry,  as  we 
approached  the  narrow  causeway  that  led  up 
to  the  convent.  We  now  discovered  that, 
by  a  general  order,  no  one  was  permitted  to 
approach  the   hospital  save  such   as  were 


provided  with  a  leave  from  the  medical 
staff.  A  bulletin  of  the  deaths  wa.s  daily 
published  on  the  guard-house,  except  which 
no  other  information  was  afforded  of  the 
condition  of  the  wounded  ;  and  to  this  we 
turned  eagerly,  and  with  anxious  hearts, 
lest  Ave  might  read  the  name  of  some  friend 
lost  forever.  I  ran  over  with  a  rapid 
glance  the  list,  where  neither  St.  Hilaire 
nor  poor  Pioche  occurred,  and  then,  set- 
ting spurs  to  my  horse,  hurried  back  to 
my  quarters  at  the  top  of  my  speed, 
When  I  arrived,  the  preparations  for  the 
departure  of  the  elite  were  already  in 
progress,  and  I  had  but  time  to  make  mv 
few  arrangements  for  the  road,  when  the 
order  came  to  join  my  comrades. 


CHAPTER  LIV. 


r-ARis  ix  1806. 


A  portion"  of  the  Luxembourg  was  de- 
voted to  the  reception  of  the  compagnie 
tVelite,  for  whom  a  household,  on  the  most 
liberal  scale,  was  provided,  a  splendid  table 
maintained,  and  all  that  wealth  and  the 
taste  of  a  voluptuous  age  could  suggest, 
procured,  to  make  their  life  one  of  daily 
magnificence  and  pleasure.  Daru  himself, 
the  especial  favorite  of  the  Emperor,  took 
the  head  of  the  table  each  day,  to  which 
generally  some  of  the  ministers  were  in- 
vited, while  the  Moniteur  of  every  morn- 
ing chronicled  the  festivities,  giving  eclat 
to  the  most  minute  circumstance,  and  mak- 
ing Paris  re-echo  to  the  glories  of  him  of 
whose  fame  they  were  but  the  messengers. 

The  most  costly  equipages — saddle-horses 
of  great  price — grooms  in  gorgeous  liveries 
— all  that  could  attract  notice  and  admira- 
tion, were  put  in  requisition ;  while  cere- 
monies of  pomp  went  forward  day  by  day, 
and  the  deputation  received  in  state  the 
congratulatory  visits  of  different  depart- 
ments of  the  government. 

While  thus  this  homage  was  paid  to  the 
semblance  of  Napoleon's  glory,  his  progress 
through  Germany  was  one  grand  triumphal 
procession.  One  day  we  read  of  his  arrival 
at  Munich,  whither  the  Empress  had  gone 
to  meet  him — there,  he  was  welcomed  with 
the  most  frantic  enthusiasm.  He  had  re- 
stored to  them  their  army  almost  without 
loss,  and  covered  with  laurels  ;  he  had  ele- 
vated their  elector  to  a  throne,  while  he 
cemented  the  friendship  between  the  two 
nations  by  the  marriage  of  Eugene  Beau- 
harnais  with  the  Princess  of  Bavaria.  An- 
other account  "would  tell  us  of  sixteen  thou- 


472 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


Band  Russian  prisoners  on  their  way  to 
France,  accompanied  by  two  thousand  can- 
non, taken  from  the  Austrians.  All  that 
could  excite  national  enthusiasm,  and  grat- 
ify national  vanity,  was  detailed  by  the 
government  press,  and  popular  excitement 
raised  to  a  higher  pitch  than  in  the  wildest 
periods  of  the  revolution. 

Hourly  was  his  arrival  looked  forward  to 
with  anxiety  and  impatience.  Fetes  on 
the  most  splendid  scale  of  magnificence 
were  in  preparation,  and  the  public  bodies 
of  Paris  held  meetings  to  concert  measures 
for  his  triumphal  reception.  At  last  a  tele- 
graphic dispatch  announced  his  arrival  at 
Strasburg.  Pie  crossed  the  Rhine  at  the 
very  place  where,  exactly  one  hundred  days 
before,  he  passed  over  on  his  march  against 
the  Austrians — one  hundred  days  of  such 
glory  as  not  even  his  career  had  equaled. 
Ulm  and  Austerlitz,  vanquished  Russia, 
and  ruined  Austria,  the  trophies  of  this 
brief  space.  Never  had  his  genius  shone 
with  greater  splendor — never  had  fortune 
shown  herself  more  the  companion  of  his 
destiny. 

Each  hour  was  now  counted,  and  every 
thought  turned  to  the  day  when  he  might 
be  expected  to  arrive  ;  and  on  the  evening 
of  the  24th  came  the  intelligence  that  the 
Emperor  was  approaching  Paris.  He  had 
halted  part  of  a  day  at  Nancy  to  review 
some  regiments  of  cavalry,  and  now  might 
be  expected  in  less  than  twenty-four  hours. 
The  next  morning  all  Paris  awoke  at  an 
early  hour,  when,  what  was  the  surprise 
and  disappointment  to  see  the  great  flag 
floating  from  the  pavilion  of  the  Tuileries. 
His  Majesty  had  arrived  during  the  night, 
when,  at  once  sending  for  the  minister  of 
finance,  he  proceeded,  without  taking  a  mo- 
ment's repose,  to  examine  into  the  dreadful 
crisis  which  threatened  the  Bank  of  France, 
and  the  very  existence  of  the  government. 

At  eleven,  the  council  of  state  were  as- 
sembled at  the  Tuileries  ;  and  at  twelve,  a 
proclamation,  dispersed  through  Paris,  an- 
nounced that  M.  Molien  was  appointed 
minister,  and  M.  Marbois  was  dismissed 
from  his  office.  The  rapidity  of  these 
changes,  and  the  avoidance  of  all  public 
homage  by  the  Emperor,  threw,  for  several 
days,  a  cast  of  gloom  over  the  whole  city, 
which  was  soon  dissipated  by  the  reappear- 
ance of  Napoleon,  and  the  publication  of 
that  celebrated  report  by  M.  Champagny,  in 
which  the  glories  of  France — her  victories 
— her  acquisitions  in  wealth,  territory,  and 
influence — were  recited  in  terms  whose  adu- 
lation it  would  be  now  difficult  to  digest. 

From  that  moment  the  festivities  of  Paris 
commenced,   and  with   a  splendor  unsur- 


passed by  any  period  of  the  Empire.  It 
was  the  Augustan  era  of  Napoleon's  life,  in 
all  thai  concerned  the  fine  arts — for  litera- 
ture, unhappily,  did  not  flourish  at  any 
time  beneath  his  reign.  Gerard  and  Gros, 
David,  Ingres,  and  Esabey,  committed  to 
canvas  the  glories  of  the  German  campaigns; 
and  the  capitulation  of  Ulm,  the  taking  of 
Vienna,  the  passage  of  the  Danube,  and  the 
field  of  Austerlitz,  still  live  in  the  genius  of 
these  great  painters. 

The  opera,  too,  under  the  direction  of 
Cimerosa,  had  attained  to  an  unwonted  ex- 
cellence ;  while  Spontini  and  Boieldieu,  in 
their  separate  walks,  gave  origin  to  the 
school  so  distinctly  that  of  the  comic  opera. 
Still,  the  voluptuous  tastes  of  the  day  pre- 
vailed above  all  ;  and  the  ballet,  and  the 
strange  conceptions  of  Nicolo,  a  Maltese 
composer,  in  which  music,  dancing,  ro- 
mance, and  scenery  all  figured,  were  the 
passion  of  the  time. 

Dancing  was,  indeed,  the  great  art  of  the 
era.  Vestris  and  Trenis  were  the  great 
names  in  every  saloon  ;  and  all  the  extrava- 
gant graces  and  voluptuous  groupings  of 
the  ballet  were  introduced  into  the  amuse- 
ments of  society  :  even  the  taste  in  dress 
was  made  subordinate  to  this  passion — the 
light  and  floating  materials,  which  mark  the 
figure  and  display  symmetry,  replacing  the 
heavier  and  more  costly  robes  of  former 
times.  The  reaction  to  the  stern  puritan- 
ism  of  the  republican  age  had  set  in,  and 
secretly  Avas  favored  by  Napoleon  himself, 
who  saw  in  all  this  extravagance  and  aban- 
donment to  pleasure  the  basis  of  that  new 
social  state  on  which  he  proposed  to  found 
his  dynasty. 

Never  were  the  entertainments  at  the 
Tuileries  more  costly — never  was  a  greater 
magnificence  displayed  in  all  the  cere- 
monial of  state.  The  marshals  of  the  Em- 
pire were  enjoined  to  maintain  a  style  cor- 
responding to  their  exalted  position  ;  and 
the  reports  of  the  police  were  actually 
studied,  respecting  such  persons  as  lived  in 
what  was  deemed  a  manner  unbefitting 
their  means  of  expense. 

Cambaceres  and  Fouche,  Talleyrand  and 
Murat,  all  maintained  splendid  establish- 
ments. Their  dinners  were  given  twice 
each  week,  and  their  receptions  were  almost 
every -evening.  If  the  Emperor  conferred 
wealth  with  a  liberal  hand,  so  did  he  ex- 
pect to  see  it  freely  expended.  He  knew 
well  the  importance  of  conciliating  the  af- 
fections of  the  bourgeoisie  of  Paris,  and  that 
by  no  other  means  could  such  an  end  be  ac- 
complished more  readily  than  by  a  lavish 
expenditure  of  money  throughout  all  classes 
of  society.    This  was  alone  wanting  to  efface 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS. 


473 


every  trace  of  the  old  republican  spirit. 
The  simple  habits  and  uncostly  tastes  of  the 
Jacobins  were  at  once  regarded  as  mean- 
nesses—their frugal  and  unpretending 
modes  of  life  pronounced  low  and  vulgar — 
and  many,  who  could  have  opposed  a  stout 
heart  against  the  current  of  popular  feeling 
on  stronger  grounds,  yielded  to  the  insinu- 
ations and  mockeries  of  their  own  class,  and 
conformed  to  tastes  which  eventually  en- 
gendered opinions  and  even  principles. 

I  ask  pardon  of  my  reader  for  digressing 
from  the  immediate  subject  of  my  own 
career,  to  speak  of  topics  which  are  rather 
the  province  of  the  historian  than  a  mere 
story-teller  like  myself  ;  still,  I  should  not 
be  able  to  present  to  his  view  the  picture  of 
manners  I  desired,  without  thus  recalling 
some  features  of  that  time,  so  pregnant 
with  the  fate  of  Europe  and  the  future 
destiny  of  France.     And  now  to  return. 

Immediately  on  the  Emperor's  arrival, 
the  Empress  and  her  suite  took  their  de- 
parture for  Versailles,  from  whence  it  was 
understood  they  were  not  to  return  before 
the  end  of  the  month,  for  which  time  a 
splendid  ball  was  announced  at  the  Tuile- 
ries.  Unwilling  to  detain  General  d'Au- 
vergne's  letter  so  long,  and  unable,  from 
the  position  I  occupied,  to  obtain  leave  of 
absence  from  Paris,  I  forwarded  the  letter 
to  the  comtesse,  and  abandoned  the  only 
hope  I  had  of  meeting  her  once  more. 
The  disappointment  from  this  source — the 
novelty  of  the  circumstances  in  which  I 
found  myself — the  fascinations  of  a  world 
altogether  strange  to  me — all  conspired  to 
confuse  and  excite  me,  and  I  entered  into 
the  dissipation  of  those  around  me, 'if  not 
with  all  their  zest,  at  least  with  as  headlong 
a  resolution  to  drown  all  reflection  in  a  life 
of  voluptuous  enjoyment. 

The  only  person  of  my  own  standing 
among  the  cor.iixtgnie  cT elite  was  a  captain 
of  the  Chasseurs  of  the  Guard,  who,  al- 
though but  a  few  years  my  senior,  had  seen 
service,  in  the  Italian  campaign.  By  family 
a  Bourbonist,  he  joined  the  revolutionary 
armies  when  his  relatives  fled  from  France, 
and  slowly  won  his  steps  to  his  present  rank. 
A  certain  hauteur  in  his  manner  with  men 
— an  air  of  distance  he  always  wore — had 
made  him  as  little  liked  by  them  as  it 
usually  succeeds  in  making  a  man  popular 
with  women,  to  whom  the  opposite  seems 
at  once  a  compliment.  He  was  a  man  who 
had  seen  much  of  the  world,  and  in  the 
best  society  ;  gifted  with  a  most  fascinating 
address,  whenever  he  pleased  to  exert  it, 
and  singularly  good-looking,  he  was  the 
beau  ideal  of  the  French  officer  of  the 
highest  class. 


The  Chevalier  Duchesne  and  myself  had 
traveled  together  for  some  days,  without 
exchanging  more  than  the  ordinary  civil- 
ities of  distant  acquaintance,  when  some 
accident  of  the  road  threw  us  more  closely 
together,  and  ended  by  forming  an  intimacy 
which,  in  our  Paris  life,  brought  us  every 
hour  into  each  other's  society. 

Stranger  as  I  was  in  the  capital,  to  me 
the  acquaintance  was  a  boon  of  greal  price. 

He  knew  it  thoroughly.  In  the  gorgeous 
and  stately  salons  of  the  Faubourg — in  the 
guingettes  of  the  Eue  St.  Denis — in  the 
costly  mansion  of  the  modern  banker,  the 
new  aristocracy  of  the  land — or  in  the 
homely  menage  of  the  shopkeeper  of  the 
Eue  St.  Honore,  he  was  equally  at  home, 
and,  by  some  strange  charm,  had  the  entree 
too. 

The  same  "  sesame  "  opened  to  him  the 
coulisse  of  the  Opera,  and  the  penetralia  of 
the  Francais.  In  fact,  he  seemed  one  of 
those  privileged  people  who  are  met  with  oc- 
casionalty  in  life,  in  places  the  most  incon- 
gruous, and  with  acquaintances  the  most 
opposite,  yet  never  carrying  the  prestige  of 
the  one  or  the  other  an  inch  beyond  the 
precincts  it  belongs  to. 

Had  he  been  wealthy  I  could  have  ac- 
counted for  much  of  this  ;  for  never  was 
there  a  period  when  riches  more  abounded, 
nor  when  their  power  was  more  absolute  ; 
but  he  did  not  seem  so.  Although  in  no 
want  of  money,  his  retinue  and  simple 
style  of  living  betrayed  nothing  beyond  fair 
competence  ;  neither,  as  far  as  I  could  per- 
ceive, did  he  incline  to  habits  of  extrava- 
gance— on  the  contrary,  he  was  too  apt  to 
connect  every  display  with  vulgarity,  and 
condemn,  in  his  fastidiousness,  the  gorge- 
ous splendor  that  characterized  the  period. 

Such,  without  going  further,  did  Du- 
chesne appear  to  be,  as  we  took  up  our 
quarters  at  the  Luxembourg,  and  com- 
menced an  intimacy  which  each  day  served 
to  increase 

"Well,  thank  Heaven,  this  vaudeville  is 
over  at  last  !  "  said  he,  as  he  threw  himself 
into  a  large  chair  at  my  fire,  and  pitched 
his  chapeau,  all  covered  with  gold  and  em- 
broidery, into  a  far  corner  of  the  room. 
We  had  just  returned  from  Notre- Dame, 
where  the  grand  ceremonial  of  receiving 
the  standards  was  held  by  the  Senate,  with 
all  the  solemnity  of  a  high  mass,  and  the 
most  imposing  observances. 

"  Vaudeville  ?  "  said  I,  turning  round 
rapidly. 

"  Yes.  What  else  can  you  call  it  ?  What, 
I  ask  you,  had  those  poor  decrepit  senators 
— those  effeminate  priests,  in  the  costumes 
of  beguines,  to  do  with  the  eagles  of  a  brave 


474 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


but  unfortunate  army?  In  what  way  can 
you  connect  that  incense  and  that  organ 
with  the  smoke  of  artillery  and  the  crash 
of  niitraille  ?  And  lastly—was  it  like  old 
Daru  himself,  to  stand  there,  half  crouch- 
ing, beside  some  wretched  half-palsied 
priest  ?  But  I  feel  heartily  ashamed  of 
myself,  though  I  played  but  the  smallest 
part  in  the  whole  drama." 

"  Is  it  l  hus  you  can  speak  of  the  triumph 
cf  our  army  ? — the  glories — " 

"  You  mistake  me  much.  I  only  speak 
of  that  miserable  mockery  which  converts 
our  hard-won  laurels  into  chaplets  of  arti- 
ficial flowers.  These  displays  are  far  be- 
neath us,  and  would  only  become  the  vic- 
tories of  some  national  guard." 

"So  then,"  said  I,  half  laughingly,  "it 
is  your  republican  gorge  that  rises  against 
all  this  useless  ceremonial." 

"You  are  the  very  first  ever  detected  me 
in  that  guise,"  said  he,  bursting  into  a 
hearty  laugh.  "  But  come,  I'd  wager  you 
agree  with  me  all  this  while.  This  was  a 
very  contemptible  exhibition  ;  and,  for  my 
own  part,  I'd  rather  see  the  colors  back 
again,  with  those  poor  fellows  we  chased  at 
Austerlitz,  than  fluttering  in  the  imbecile 
hands  of  dotage  and  bigotry," 

"Then  I  must  say  we  differ  totally.  I 
like  to  think  of  the  warlike  spirit  nourished 
in  a  nation,  by  the  contemplation  of  such 
glorious  spoils.  I  am  young  enough  to  re- 
member how  the  Invalides  affected  me — " 

"  When  you  took  your  Sunday  walk  there 
from  the  Polytechnique,  two  and  two,  with 
a  blue  ribbon  round  your  neck,  for  being  a 
good  boy  during  the  week.  Oh,  I  know  it 
all.  Delicious  times  they  were,  with  their 
souvenirs  of  wooden  legs  and  plum-pud- 
ding. Happy  fellow  you  must  be,  if  the 
delusion  can  last  this  while." 

"  You  are  determined  it  shall  not  con- 
tinue much  longer,"  said  I,  laughing ; 
"that  is  quite  evident." 

"  No.  On  the  contrary,  I  should  be  but 
too  happy  to  be  your  convert,  instead  of 
making  you  mine ;  but,  unfortunately, 
*  Sa  Majcste,  Empereur  et  Eoi,'  has  taught 
me  some  smart  lessons  since  I  gave  up  math- 
ematics, and  I  have  acquired  a  smattering 
of  his  own  policy,  which  is,  to  look  after 
the  substance  and  leave  the  shadow,  or  the 
'  drapeau,'  if  you  like  it  better,  to  whoever 
pleases." 

"  I  confess,  however,"  said  I,  "  I  don't 
well  understand  your  enthusiasm  about  war, 
and  your  indifference  about  its  trophies. 
To  me,  the  associations  they  suggest  are 
pleasurable  beyond  anything. 

"I  think  I  remember  something  of  that 
kind  in  myself  formerly,"  said  he,  musing. 


"  There  was  a  time  when  the  blast  of  a 
trumpet,  or  even  the  clank  of  a  sabre,  used 
to  sel  m\  hearl  thumping.  Happily,  how- 
ever, the  organ  lias  grown  steeled  against 
even  more  stirring  sounds  ;  and  I  listened 
to  the  salute  to-day,  fired  as  it  was  by  that 
imposing  body,  the  artillery  of  the  '  Garde 
Rationale,'  with  an  equanimity  truly  won- 
derful. Apropos,  my  dear  Burke,  talk  of 
heroism  and  self-devotion  as  you  will,  but 
show  me  anything  to  compare  with  the 
gallantry  of  those  fellows  we  saw  to-day  on 
the  '  Quai  Voltaire  ' — a  set  of  grocers,  peri- 
wig-makers, umbrella  and  sausage-men, 
with  portly  paunches  and  spectacles,  ram- 
ming down  charges,  sponging,  loading,  and 
firing  real  cannon.  On  my  word  of  honor, 
it  was  fearful." 

"  They  say  his  Majesty  is  very  proud  in- 
deed of  the  National  Guard  of  Paris." 

"  Of  course  he  is ;  look  at  them,  and  just 
think  what  must  be  the  enthusiasm  of  men 
who  will  adopt  a  career  so  repugnant,  not 
only  to  their  fancy,  but  their  very  forma- 
tion ;  remember,  that  he  who  runs  yonder 
with  a  twenty-four  pounder,  never  handled 
anything  heavier  than  a  wig-block  ;  and 
that  the  only  charges  of  the  little  man  be- 
side him  have  been  made  in  his  day  book. 
By  St.  Denis !  the  dromedary  guard  we  had 
in  Egypt  were  more  at  home  in  their  sad- 
dles, than  the  squadron  who  rode  beside  the 
archbishop's  carriage." 

"It  is  scarcely  fair,  after  all," said  I,  half 
laughing,  "to  criticise  them  so  severely; 
and  the  more  as  I  think  you  had  some  old 
acquaintances  among  them." 

"  Ha  !  you  saw  that,  did  you  ?  "  said  he, 
smiling.  "No,  by  Jove  !  I  never  met  them 
before  ;  but  that  confrerie  of  soldiers — you 
understand — soon  made  us  acquainted  ;  and 
I  saw  one  old  fellow  speaking  to  a  very  pret- 
ty girl  I  guessed  to  be  his  daughter,  and 
soon  cemented  a  small  friendship  with  him  ; 
here's  his  card." 

"  His  card !  Why,  are  you  to  visit 
him?" 

"  Better  again  ;  I  shall  dine  there  on 
Monday  next.  Let  us  see  how  he  calls  him- 
self. '  Hippolyte  Pierrot,  stay  and  corset- 
maker  to  her  Majesty  the  Empress,  No.  22. 
Rue  du  Bac — third  floor  above  the  entresol. ' 
Viable  !  we're  high  up.  Unfortunately,  I 
am  scarcely  intimate  enough  to  bring  a 
friend." 

"Oh,  make  no  excuses  on  that  head," 
said  I,  laughing,  "I  really  have  no  desire 
to  see  Monsieur  Hippolyte  Pierrot's  menage. 
And  now,  what  are  your  engagements  for 
this  evening — are  you  for  the  opera  ?" 

"I  don't  well  know,"  said  he,  pausing  ; 
"Madame   Caulaincourt  receives,    and    of 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


475 


course  expects  to  see  our  gay  jackets  in  her 
salon  any  time  before  or  after  supper. 
Then  there's  the  Comtesse  de  Nevers  ;  I 
never  go  there  without  meeting  my  tailor  ; 
the  fellow's  a  spy  of  the  police,  and  a  con- 
fectioner to  boot,  and  he  serves  the  ices, 
and  reports  the  conversations  in  the  Place 
Vendome,  and  that  side  of  the  Rue  St. 
Honore.  I  couldn't  take  a  glass  of  lemon- 
ade without  being  dunned.  Then,  in  the 
Faubourg,  I  must  go  in  plain  clothes,  they 
would  not  let  the  'livery  of  the  Usurper' 
pass  the  porter's  lodge  ;  besides,  they  worry 
one  with  their  enthusiastic  joy  or  grief,  as 
the  last  letter  from  England  mentions 
whether  the  Comte  d'Artois  has  eaten  too 
many  oysters,  or  found  London  beer  too 
strong  for  him." 

"  From  all  which  I  guess  that  you  are 
indisposed  to  stir." 

"  I  believe  that  is  about  the  fact.  Truth 
is,  Burke,  there  is  only  one  soiree  in  all 
Paris  I'd  take  the  trouble  to  dress  for  this 
evening,  and,  strange  enough,  it's  the  only 
house  where  I  don't  know  the  people.  He 
is  a  commissary-general,  or  a  'fournisseur' 
of  some  kind  or  other  of  the  army — always 
from  home,  they  say  ;  with  a  wife,  who  was 
once,  and  a  daughter,  who  is  now,  exceed- 
ing pretty  ;  keeps  a  splendid  house,  and, 
like  an  honest  man,  makes  restitution  of 
all  he  can  cheat  in  the  campaign,  by  giving 
good  dinners  in  the  capital.  His  Majesty, 
at  the  solicitation  of  the  Empress,  I  be- 
lieve, made  him  a  count — God's  mercy  it 
was  not  a  king  ! — and  as  they  come  from 
Guadaloupe,  or  Otaheite,  no  one  disputes 
their  right ;  besides,  this  is  not  a  time  for 
such  punctilio.  This  is  all  I  know  of  them, 
for,  unfortunately,  they  settled  here  since 
I  joined  the  army." 

"  And  the  name  ?  " 

"  Oh,  a  very  plausible  name,  I  assure 
you.  Lacostellerie — Madame  la  Comtesse 
de  Lacostellerie." 

"  By  Jove  !  you  remind  me,  I  have  let- 
ters for  her  ;  a  circumstance  I  had  totally 
forgotten,  though  it  was  coupled  with  a 
commission." 

"  A  letter  ! — why  nothing  was  ever  so  for- 
tunate ;  don't  lose  a  moment ;  you  have 
just  time  to  leave  it,  with  your  card,  before 
dinner ;  you'll  have  an  invitation  for  this 
evening  at  once." 

"  But  I  have  not  the  slightest  wish." 

"No  matter,  /have,  and  you  shall  bring 
me." 

"You  forget,"  said  I,  mimicking  his  own 
words,  "I  am,  unfortunately,  not  intimate 
enough." 

"As  to  that,"  replied  he,  "there  is  a 
vast  difference  between  the  etiquette  Rue 


du  Bac,  No.  22,  three  floors  above  the  en- 
tresol, and  the  gorgeous  salons  of  the  Hotel 
Clichy,  Rue  Faubourg  St.  Honorc  ;  cere- 
mony lias  the  advantage  in  the  former  by  a 
height  of  three  pair  of  stairs,  not  to  speak 
of  the  entresol." 

"But  I  don't  know  the  people." 

"Nor  I." 

"  But  how  am  I  to  present  you." 

"  Easily  enough.  '  Captain  Duchesne, 
Imperial  Guard  ; '  or,  if  you  prefer  it,  I'll 
do  the  honors  for  you" 

"  With  all  my  heart,  then,"  said  I,  laugh- 
ing ;  and  prepared  to  pay  the  visit  in  ques- 
tion. 


CHAPTER  LV. 


THE    "  HOTEL   DE   CLICHY. 


Duchesxe  was  correct  in  all  his  calcu- 
lations. I  had  scarcely  reached  the  Lux- 
embourg when  a  valet  brought  me  a  card 
for  the  comtesse's  soiree  for  that  evening. 
It  was  accordingly  agreed  upon  that  we  were 
to  go  together — 1,  as  the  invited,  he,  as  my 
friend. 

"All  your  finery,  Burke,  remember 
that,"  said  he,  as  we  separated  to  dress, 
"  The  uniform  of  the  compagnie  d' elite  is  as 
much  a  decoration  m  a  salon  as  a  camelia 
or  a  geranium." 

When  he  re-entered  my  room,  half  an 
hour  later,  I  was  struck  by  the  blaze  of 
orders  and  decorations  with  which  his 
jacket  was  covered,  while  at  his  side  there 
hung  a  magnificent  sabre  dlionneur,  such 
as  the  Emperor  was  accustomed  to  confer 
on  his  most  distinguished  officers. 

"You  smile  at  all  this  bravery,''  said  he, 
willfully  misinterpreting  my  look  of  admi- 
ration •  "  but  remember  where  we  are  go- 
ing." 

"On  the  contrary,"  interrupted  I  ;  "but 
it  is  the  first  time  I  knew  you  had  the  cross 
of  the  Legion." 

" Parbleu!"  said  he,  with  an  insolent 
shrug  of  his  shoulders,  "I  had  lent  it  to 
my  hairdresser,  for  a  ball  at  the  'Cirque.' 
But  here  comes  the  carriage." 

While  we  drove  along  toward  the  Fau- 
bourg, I  had  time  to  learn  some  further 
particulars  of  the  people  to  whose  house 
we  were  proceeding,  and  for  my  reader's  in- 
formation may  as  well  impart  them  here, 
with  such  other  facts  as  I  subsequently  col- 
lected myself. 

Like  most  of  the  salons  of  the  new  aris- 
tocracy, Madame  Lacostellerie's  received 
people"  of  every  section  of  party,  and  every 
class  of  political  opinion.     Standing  equal- 


47G 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


ly  -rdoof  from  the  old  regime  and  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Jacobin  party,  her  receptions 
were  a  Kind  of  neutral  territory,  whereeach 
could  come  without  compromise  of  dignity  ; 
for  already,  except  among  the  most  starched 
adherents  of  the  Bourbons,  few  of  whom 
remained  in  France,  there  was  a  growing 
spirit  to  side  with  the  Napoleonists,  in  pre- 
ference to  the  revolutionary  section  ;  while 
the  latter,  with  all  their  pretensions  to 
simplicity  and  primitive  tastes,  felt  no 
little  pride  in  mixing  with  the  very  aris- 
tocracy they  so  loudly  inveighed  against. 

Besides  all  this,  wealth  had  its  prestige. 
Never,  in  the  palmiest  days  of  the  royalty, 
were  entertainments  of  greater  splendor; 
and  the  legitimists,  however  disposed  to  be 
critical  on  the  company,  could  afford  to  be 
just  regarding  the  "cuisine ;"  the  luxury 
of  these  modern  dinners  eclipsing  the  most 
costly  displays  of  former  times,  where  here- 
ditary rank  and  ancient  nobility  contribut- 
ed to  adorn  the  scene.  And,  lastly,  the 
admixture  of  every  grade  and  class  extended 
the  field  of  conversational  agreeability, 
throwing  in  new  elements,  and  eliciting 
new  features,  in  a  society  where  peers, 
actors,  poets,  bankers,  painters,  soldiers, 
speculators,  journalists,  and  adventurers, 
were  confusedly  mixed  together,  making,  as 
it  were,  a  common  fund  of  their  principles 
and  their  prejudices,  and  starting  anew  in 
life  with  what  they  could  seize  in  the 
scramble. 

After  following  the  long  line  of  carriages 
far  above  an  hour,  we  at  last  turned  into  a 
large  court-yard,  lit  up  almost  to  the 
brightness  of  day.  Here  the  equipages  of 
many  of  the  ministers  were  standing,  a 
privilege  accorded  to  them  above  the  other 
guests.  I  recognized  among  the  number 
the  splendid  liveries  of  Decres,  and  the 
stately  carriage  of  Talleyrand,  whose  house- 
hold always  proclaimed  itself  as  belonging 
to  a  "  seigneur "  of  the  oldest  blood  of 
France,  the  most  perfect  type  of  a  high- 
bred gentleman.  Our  progress  from  the 
vestibule  to  the  stairs  was  a  slow  one.  The 
double  current  of  those  pressing  up  and 
downward  delayed  us  long ;  and  at  last 
we  reached  a  spacious  ante-chamber,  where 
even  greater  numbers  stood  awaiting  their 
turn,  if  happily  it  should  come,  to  move 
forward. 

While  here,  the  names  of  those  announc- 
ed conveyed  to  us  a  fair  impression  of  the 
whole  company.  Among  the  first  was  Le 
General  Junot — Berthollet,  the  celebrated 
chemist— Lafayette—Monges— Daru— Count 
de  Mailles,  a  Legitimist  noble — David,  the 
regicide — the  Ambassador  of  Prussia — M. 
Pasquier — Talma.     Such  were  the  names 


we  heard  following  in  quick  succession, 
when  suddenly  an  avenue  was  opened  by  a 
master  of  the"  ceremonies  before  me,  who 
read  from  my  card  the  words, 

"Le  Capitaine  Burke,  officier  d'elite — Le 
Chevalier  Duchesne,  presente  par  lui." 

And,  advancing  within  the  doorway,  I 
found  myself  opposite  a  very  handsome 
woman,  whose  brilliant  dress  and  blaze  of 
diamonds  concealed  any  ravages  time  might. 
have  made  upen  her  beauty. 

She  was  conversing  with  the  Arch-Chan- 
cellor, Cambacures,  when  my  name  was 
announced,  and,  turning  rapidly  round, 
touched  my  arm  with  her  bouquet,  as  she 
said  with  a  most  gracious  smile, 

"I  am  but  too  much  flattered  to  see  you 
on  so  short  an  invitation,  but  M.  de  Tasch- 
er's  note  led  me  to  hope  I  might  presume 
so  far.     Your  friend,  I  believe  ? " 

"I  have  taken  the  great  liberty — " 

"Indeed,  Madame  la  Comtesse,"  said 
Duchesne,  interrupting,  "I  must  exculpate 
my  friend  here.  This  intrusion  rests  on 
my  own  head,  and  has  no  other  apology 
than  my  long-cherished  wish  to  pay  my 
homage  to  the  most  distinguished  ornament 
of  the  Parisian  world." 

As  he  spoke,  the  quiet  flow  of  his  words, 
and  the  low,  deferential  bow  with  which 
he  accompanied  them,  completely  divested 
his  speech  of  its  tone  of  gross  flattery,  and 
merely  made  it  seem  a  very  fitting  and  ap- 
propriate expression. 

"  This  would  be  a  very  high  compliment, 
indeed,"  replied  Madame  de  Lacostellene, 
with  a  flush  of  evident  pleasure  on  her 
cheek,  "had  it  even  come  from  one  less 
known  than  the  Chevalier  Duchesne.  I 
hope  the  Duchesse  de  Montserrat  is  well — 
your  aunt,  if  I  mistake  not  ?  " 

"Yes,  madame,"  said  he,  "in  excellent 
health.  It  will  afford  her  great  pleasure 
when  I  inform  her  of  your  polite  inquiry." 

Another  announcement  now  compelled 
us  to  follow  the  current  in  front,  which  I 
was  but  well  content  to  do,  and  escape 
from  an  interchange  of  fine  speeches,  of 
whose  sincerity,  on  one  side  at  least,  I  had 
very  strong  misgivings. 

"  So,  then,  the  comtesse  is  acquainted 
with  your  family,"  said  I,  in  a  whisper. 

"Who  said  so  ?"  replied  he,  laughing. 

"  Did  she  not  ask  after  the  Duchesse  de 
Montserrat  ?  " 

'•'And  then?" 

"And  didn't  you  promise  to  convey  her 
verv  kind  message  ?  " 

'"'To  be  sure  I  did  ;  but  are  you  simple 
enough  to  think  that  either  of  us  were 
serious  in  what  we  said  ?  Why,  my  dear 
friend,  she  never  saw  my  aunt  m  her  life ; 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


•477 


n<l-r,  if  I  were  to  hint  at  her  inquiry  for  her 
to  the  duchessa,  am  I  certain  it  would  not 
cost  me  something  like  a  half-million  of 
francs  the  old  lady  has  left  me  in  her  will  ? 
On  my  word,  I  firmly  believe  she'd  never 
forgive  it.  You-  know  little  what  these 
people  of  the  "vieille  roche,'  as  they  call 
themselves,  are  like.  Do  you  see  that 
handsome  fellow  yonder,  with  a  star  on  a 
blue  cordon  ?" 

"I  don't  know  him,  but  I  see  he's  a 
Marshal  of  France." 

"Well,  I  saw  that  same  aunt  of  mine 
rise  up  and  leave  the  room,  because  he  sat 
down  in  her  presence." 

"Oh  !  that  was  intolerable." 

"So  she  deemed  his  insolence.  Come, 
move  on;  they're  dancing  in  the  next 
saloon  ; "  and,  without  saying  more,  we 
pushed  through  the  crowd  in  the  direction 
of  the  music. 

It  is  only  by  referring  to  the  sensations 
experienced  by  those  who  see  a  ballet  at 
the  Opera  for  the  first  time,  that  I  can  at 
all  convey  my  own  on  entering  the  "salle 
de  danse."  My  first  feeling  was  that  of 
absolute  shame.  Never  before  had  I  seen 
that  affectation  of  stage  costume  which  then 
was  the  rage  in  society.  The  short  and 
floating  jupe — formed  of  some  light  and 
gauzy  texture,  which,  even  where  it  cov- 
ered the  figure,  betrayed  the  form  and  pro- 
portions of  the  wearer — was  worn  low  on 
the  bosom  and  shoulders,  and  attached  at 
the  'waist  by  a  ribbon,  whose  knot  hung 
negligently  down  in  seeming  disorder. 
The  hair  fell  in  long  and  floating  masses 
loose  upon  the  neck,  waving  in  free  tresses 
with  every  motion  of  the  figure,  and  adding 
to  that  air  of  "  abandon"  which  seemed  so 
studiously  aimed  at ;  but  more  than  any- 
thing in  mere  costume  was  the  look  and 
expression,  in  which  a  character  of  languid 
voluptuousness  was  written,  and  made  to 
harmonize  with  the  easy  grace  of  floating 
movements,  and  sympathize  with  gestures 
full  of  passionate  fascination. 

"Now,  Burke,"  said  Duchesne,  as  he 
threw  his  eyes  over  the  room,  "shall  I 
find  a  partner  for  you  ?  for  I  believe  I 
know  most  of  the  people  here.  That  pret- 
ty blonde  yonder,  with  the  diamond  buc- 
kles in  her  shoes,  is  Mademoiselle  de  Kancy, 
with  a  dowry  of  some  millions  of  francs. 
What  say  you  to  pushing  your  fortune 
there  ?  Don't  forget  the  officier  d 'elite  is 
a  trump  card  just  now  ;  and  there's  no 
time  to  lose,  for  there  will  soon  be  a  new 
deal." 

"Not  if  she  had  the  throne  of  France  in 
reversion,"  said  I,  turning  away  in  disgust 
from  a  figure  which,  though  perf ectly  beau- 


tiful, outraged  at  every  movement  that 
greatest  charm  of  womanhood,  her  inborn 
modesty. 

"Ah,  then,  you  don't  fancy  a  blonde," 
said  he,  carelessly  ;  whether  willfully  mis- 
understanding me  or  not  I  could  not  say. 
"  Nor  I  either,"  added  he.  "  There,  now, 
is  something  far  more  to  my  taste.  Is  she 
not  a  lovely  girl  ?  " 

She  to  whom  he  now  directed  my  atten- 
tion was  standing  at  the  side  of  the  room, 
and  leaning  on  her  partner's  arm,  her  head 
slightly  turned,  so  that  we  could  not  see 
her  features  ;  but  her  figure  was  actually 
faultless.  Hers  was  not  one  of  those  gos- 
samer shapes  which  flitted  around  and 
about  us,  balancing  on  tiptoe,  or  grace- 
fully floating  with  extending  arms.  Bather 
strongly  built  than  otherwise,  she  stood 
with  the  firm  foot  and  the  straight  ankle 
of  a  marble  statue.  Her  arms,  well  round- 
ed, hung  easily  from  her  full,  wide  shoul- 
ders, while  her  head,  slightly  thrown  back, 
was  balanced  on  her  neck  with  an  air  at 
once  dignified  and  easy.  Her  dress  well 
suited  the  character  of  her  figure  :  it  was 
entirely  of  black,  covered  with  a  profusion 
of  deep  lace — the  jupe  looped  up  in  Anda- 
lusian  fashion,  to  display  the  leg,  whose 
symmetry  was  perfect.  Even  her  costume, 
however,  had  something  about  it  too  theat- 
rical for  my  taste  ;  but  there  was  a  stamp 
of  firmness,  "fierte,"  even  in  her  carriage 
and  her  attitude,  that  at  once  showed  hers 
was  no  vulgar  desire  of  being  remarkable, 
but  the  womanly  consciousness  of  being 
dressed  as  became  her.  She  suddenly  turn- 
ed her  head  around,  and  we  both  exclaimed 
in  the  same  breath,  "  How  lovely  ! "  Her 
features  were  of  that  brilliant  character 
only  seen  in  southern  blood — eves  large, 
black,  and  lustrous,  fringed  with  lashes 
that  threw  their  shadow  on  the  very  cheek  ; 
full  lips,  curled  with  an  air  of  almost  saucy 
expression,  while  the- rich  olive  tint  of  her 
transparent  skin  was  scarce  colored  with 
-the  pink  flush  of  exercise,  and  harmonized 
perfectly  with  the  proud  repose  of  her 
countenance. 

"  She  must  be  Spanish — that's  certain," 
said  Duchesne.  ' '  No  one  ever  saw  such 
an  instep  come  from  this  side  of  the  Pyre- 
nees ;  and  those  eyes  have  got  their  look  of 
sleepy  Avickedness  from  Moorish  blood. 
But  here  comes  one  will  tell  us  all  about 
her." 

This  was  the  Baron  de  Treve,  a  with- 
ered-looking, dried-up  old  man,  rouged  to 
the  eves,  and  dressed  in  the  extravagance 
of  the  last  fashion — the  high  collar  of  his 
coat  rising  nearly  to  the  back  of  his  head, 
as  his  deep  cravat  in   front  entirely  con- 


478 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


coaled  his   mouth,  and  formed  a  kind  of 
harrier  around  his  features. 

As  Duchesne  addressed  him,  he  stopped 
short,  and  assuming  an  attitude  of  great 
intended  grace,  raised  his  glass  slowly  to 
his  eye,  and  looked  toward  the  lad  v. 

"Ah!  the  Sen orina— don't  you  know 
her  ?  Why,  where  have  you  been,  my  dear 
chevalier  ?  Oh  !  I  forgot.  You've  been 
in  Austria,  or  Russia,  or  some  barbarous 
place  or  other.  She  is  the  belle,  par  excel- 
lence.    Nothing  else  is  talked  of  in  Paris." 

"But  her  name?  Who  is  she?"  said 
Duchesne,  impatiently. 

"Mademoiselle  de  Lacostellerie,  the 
daughter  of  the  house,"  said  the  Baron, 
completely  overcome  with  astonishment  at 
our  ignorance  ;  "and  you  not  to  know  this 
— you,  of  all  men  living.  Why,"  he  con- 
tinued, dropping  his  voice  to  a  lower  key, 
"there  never  was  such  a  fortune.  Mines 
of  rubies  and  emeralds  ;  continents  of  cof- 
fee, rice,  and  sandal-wood  ;  spice  islands 
and  sugar  plantations,  to  make  one's 
mouth  water." 

"  By  Jove  !  baron,  you  seem  somewhat 
susceptible  yourself." 

"I  had  my  thoughts  on  the  subject," 
said  he,  with  a  half  sigh;  "but,  helas  ! 
there  are  so  many  ties  to  be  broken — so 
many  tender  chains'  one  must  snap  asun- 
der ! " 

"  I  understand,"  said  Duchesne,  with  an 
air  of  well-assumed  seriousness.  "The 
thing  was  impossible.  Now,  then,  what 
say  you  to  assist  a  friend  !  " 

"  You — yourself,  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Of  course,  baron — no  other." 

"  Come  this  way,"  said  the  old  man, 
taking  him  by  the  arm,  and  leading  him 
along  to  another  part  of  the  room,  while 
Duchesne,  with  a  sly  look  at  me,  followed. 

While  I  stood  awaiting  his  return,  my 
thoughts  became  fixed  on  Duchesne  him- 
self, of  whose  character  I  never  felt  free 
from  my  misgivings.  The  cold  indifference 
he  manifested  on  ordinary  occasions  to 
everything  and  everybody,  I  now  saw  could 
give  way  to  strong  impetuosity  ;  but  even 
this  might  be  assumed  also.  As  I  pondered 
thus,  I  had  not  remarked  that  the  dance 
was  concluded ;  and  already  the  dancers 
were  proceeding  toward  their  seats,  when 
I  heard  my  name  uttered  beside  me — 
"Capitaine  Burke."  I  turned;  it  was 
the  countess  herself,  leaning  on  the  arm  of 
her  daughter. 

"I  wish  to  present  you  to  my  daughter," 
said  she,  with  a  courteous  smile.  "The 
college  friend  and  brother  officer  of  your 
cousin  Tascher,  Pauline." 

The  young  lady  courtesicd  with  an  air  of 


cold  reserve  ;  I  'bowed   deeply  before  her, 
while  the  countess  continued, 

"  We  hope  to  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
you  frequently  during  your  stay  in  Paris, 
when  we  shall  have  a  better  opportunity  of 
making  your  acquaintance." 

As  I  expressed  my  sense  of  this  polite- 
ness, I  turned  to  address  a  few  words  to 
mademoiselle  ;  and  requesting  to  have  the 
honor  of  dancing  with  her,  she  looked  at 
me  with  an  air  of  surprise,  as  though  not 
understanding  my  words,  when  suddenly 
the  countess  interposed, 

"  I  fear  that  my  daughter's  engagements 
have  been  made  long  since;  but  another 
night — " 

"I  will  hope — "  But  before  I  could 
say  more,  the  countess  addressed  another 
person  near  her,  and  mademoiselle,  turn- 
ing her  head  superciliously  away,  did  not 
deign  me  any  further  attention  ;  so  that, 
abashed  and  awkward  at  so  unfavorable  a 
debut  in  the  gay  world,  I  fell  back,  and 
mixed  with. the  crowd.  As  I  did  so,  I 
found  myself  among  a  group  of  officers, 
one  of  whom  was  relating  an  anecdote  just 
then  current  in  Paris,  and  which  I  mention 
merely  as  illustrating  in  some  measure  the 
habits  of  the  period. 

At  the  levee  of  the  Emperor  on  the 
morning  before,  an  old  general  of  brigade 
advanced  to  pay  his  respects,  when  Napo- 
leon observed  some  drops  of  rain  glistening 
on  the  embroidery  of  his  uniform.  He 
immediately  turned  toward  one  of*  his 
suite,  and  gave  orders  to  ascertain  by  what 
carriage  the  general  had  arrived.  The 
answer  was,  that  he  had  come  in  a  "fiacre," 
a  hired  vehicle,  which,  by  the  rules  of  the 
Court,  was  not  admitted  within  the  court 
of  the  Tuileries,  and  thus  he  was  obliged 
to  walk  above  one  hundred  yards  before  he 
could  obtain  shelter. 

The  old  officer,  Avho  knew  nothing  of 
the  tender  solicitude  of  the  Emperor,  was 
confounded  with  astonishment  to  observe 
at  his  departure  a  handsome  caleche  and 
two  splendid  horses  at  his  service. 

"  Whose  carriage  is  this  ?"  said  he. 

"Yours,  Monsieur  le  General." 

"And  the  servant,  and  the  horses  ?" 

"Yours,  also.  His  Majesty  has  gracious- 
ly been  pleased  to  order  them  for  you,  and 
desires  you  will  remember  that  the  sum  of 
six  thousand  francs  will  be  deducted  from 
your  pay  to  meet  the  cost  of  the  equipage, 
which  the  Emperor  deems  befitting  your 
rank  in  the  service." 

"It  is  thus,"  said  the  narrator,  "the 
Emperor  would  inforce  that  liberality  on 
others  he  so  eminently  displays  himself. 
The  spoils  of  Italy  and  Austria  are  destined. 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


479 


not  to  found  a  new  noblesse,  but  to  eu rich 
the  bourgeoisie  of  this  good  city  of  Paris. 
I  say,  Edward,  is  not  that  Duchesne  yonder  i 
I  thought  he  was  above  patronizing  the 
salons  of  a  mere  commissary-general." 

"  You  don't  know  the  chevalier,"  re- 
plied the  other.  "  No  game  flies  too  high 
or  too  low  for  his  mark.  Depend  upon  it, 
he's  not  here  for  nothing." 

"If  mademoiselle  be  the  object,"  said  a 
third,  "I'll  swear  he  shall  have  no  rivalry 
on  my  side.  By  Jove  !  I'd  rather  face  a 
charge  of  Hulans  than  speak  to  her." 

"If  thou  wert  a  Marshal  of  France, 
Claude,  tliou  wouldst  think  differently." 

"If  I  were  a  Marshal  of  France,"  re- 
peated he,  with  energy,  "I'd  rather  marry 
Minette,  the  vivandiere  of  ours." 

"And  no  bad  choice  either,"  broke  in  a  ' 
large,  heavy-looking  officer  ;   "there  is  but 
one  objection  to  such  an  arrangement." 

"  And  that,  if  I  might  ask—" 

"  Simple  enough.      She   wouldn't  have 

you." 

The  young  man  endeavored  to  join  in 
the  laugh  this  speech  excited  among  the 
rest,  though  it  was  evident  he  felt  ill  at 
ease  from  the  ridicule. 

"A  thousand  pardons,  my  dear  Burke," 
said  Duchesne,  at  this  moment,  as  he 
slipped  his  arm  through  mine;  "but  I 
thought  I  should  have  been  in  need  of 
your  services  a  few  minutes  ago." 

"Ah!  how?" 

"  Move  a  little  aside,  and  I'll  tell  you. 
I  wished  to  ask  mademoiselle  to  dance,  and 
approached  her  for  the  purpose.  She  was 
standing  with  a  number  of  people,  all 
strangers  to  me,  at  the  doorway  yonder — 
Dobretski,  that  Russian  prince,  the  only 
man  I  knew  amongst  them.  A  very  chill- 
ing 'Engaged,  sir,'  was  the  answer  of  the 
lady  to  my  first  request.  The  same  reply 
met  my  second  and  third,  when  the  Russian 
— as  if  desirous  to  increase  the  awkward- 
ness of  my  position — interposed  with,  'And 
the  fourth  set  mademoiselle  dances  with 
me.' 

"'In  that  case,' said  I,  'I  may  fairly 
claim  the  fifth.' 

"  '  On  what  grounds,  sir  ?'  said  she,  with 
a  look  of  easy  impertinence. 

"  'The  Emperor's  orders,  mademoiselle,' 
said  I,  proudly. 

"  '  Indeed,  sir  !  May  I  ask  how  and 
when  ?' 

"  '  Austerlitz,  December  2.  The  order 
of  four  o'clock,  dated  from  Reygern  says — 
"  The  Imperial  Guard  will  follow  closely 
on  the  track  of  the  Russians."  Signed — 
"Napoleox."  ' 

"  '  In  that  case,  sir,'  said  she,  'I  cannot 


dispute  his  Majesty's  orders.    I  shall  dance 
the  fifth  with  you.'  " 

"  And  the  Russian — what  said  he  ?" 

"i/«  foi,  I  paid  no  attention  to  him  ; 
for,  as*  mademoiselle  moved  off  with  her 
partner,  I  strolled  away  in  search  of  you." 

If  1  was  amused  at  this  recital  of  the 
chevalier,  I  could  hot  avoid  feeling  piqued 
at  the  greater  success  he  had  than  myself  ; 
for  still  the  chilling  reception  I  had  met 
with  was  rankling  in  my  mind. 

"Let  us  move  away  from  this  quarter," 
said  Duchesne  ;  "  here  Ave  have  got  our- 
selves among  a  knot  of  old  campaigners, 
with  their  stupid  stories  of  Cairo  and  Acre, 
Alexandria  and  the  Adige.  By  Jove  !  if 
anything  would  make  me  a  Legitimist  it  is 
my  disgust  at  those  confounded  narratives 
about  Kleber  and  Desaix.  The  Emperor 
himself  does  not  despise  the  time  of  the 
Revolution  more  heartily  than  I  do.  Come, 
there's  bouillotte  yonder.  Let  us  go  and 
win  some  pieces.  I  feel  I'm  in  vein,  and 
even  to  lose  would  be  better  than  listen  to 
these  people.  It  was  only  a  few  minutes 
ago  I  was  hunted  away  from  Madame  de 
Muraire  by  old  Berthol'let,  who  is  persuad- 
ing her  that  her  diamonds  are  but  charcoal, 
and  that  a  necklace  is  only  fit  to  roast  an 
ortolan.  This  comes  of  letting  savants 
into  society ;  decidedly,  they  had  much 
better  taste  in  the  time"  of  the  monarchy." 

It  was  with  some  difficulty  we  succeeded 
in  approaching  the  bouillette-table,  where, 
ito  judge  from  the  stakes,  very  high  play 
was  going  forward.  Duchesne  was  quickly 
recognized  among  the  players,  who  made 
place  for  him  among  them.  I  soon  saw 
that  he  was  not  mistaken  in  supposing 
he  was  in  luck ;  every  coup  was  successful, 
and,  while  he  continued  to  win  time  after 
time,  the  heap  of  gold  grew  greater,  till  it 
covered  the  part  of  the  table  before  him. 

"Most  certainly,  Burke,"  said  he,  in  a 

whisper,  "this  is  a  strong  turn  of  fortune, 

who,  being  a  woman,  won't  long  be  of  the 

same  mind.     Five  thousand  francs,"  cried 

I  he,  throwing  the  billet  de  banque  carelessly 

before  him,  while  he  turned  to  resume  what 

!  he  was  saying  to  me.     "  Were  I  in  action 

|  now,  I'd  win  the  baton  de  marechal.     I 

I  feel  it.     There's  always  an  innate  sense  of 

luck  when  it  means  to  be  steady." 

"The  Chevalier  Duchesne — the  Cheva- 
lier Duchesne!"  was  repeated  from  voice 
to  voice,  outside  the  circle,  "Mademoiselle 
de  Lacostellerie  is  waiting  to  waltz  with 
you." 

"A  thousand  pardons,"  said  he,  rising. 
"  Burke,  continue  my  game,  while  I  try  if 
I  can't  push  fortune  the  whole  way." 
So  saying,  and  without  listening  to  nf 


480 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


excuses  about  ignorance  of  play,  he  pressed 
me  into  his  seat,  and  pushed  his  way 
through  the  crowd  to  join  the  dancers. 

It  was  only  when  the  players  asked  me  if 
I  intended  to  go  on,  that  I  was  aware  of  the 
position  in  which  1  found  myself.  I  knew 
little  more  of  the  game  than  1  had  learned 
in  looking  over  the  table,  but  I  was  aware 
of  the  strict  etiquette  in  all  the  play  of  so- 
ciety, which  enjoins  a  revenge  to  every 
loser,  so  that  I  continued  to  het  and  stake 
for  Duchesne  as  I  had  seen  him  do  already, 
not,  however,  with  such  fortune.  He  had 
scarcely  left  the  table  when  luck  changed, 
and  now  I  saw  his  riches  decreasing  even 
more  rapidly  than  they  had  been  accumu- 
lated. At  last,  after  a  long  run  of  ill  for- 
tune, when  I  had  staked  a  very  large  sum 
on  the  board,  just  as  the  banker  was  about 
to  begin,  I  changed  my  mind  and  with- 
drew half  of  it. 

"No,  no,  let  it  stay,"  whispered  a  voice 
in  my  ear;  "the  sooner  this  is  over  the 
better." 

I  turned — it  was  Duchesne  himself,  who 
for  some  time  bad  been  seated  behind  my 
chair  and  looking  on  at  the  game. 

Fleeting  as  was  the  glance  I  had  of  his 
features,  I  fancied  they  were  somewhat 
paler  than  usual.  Could  this  be  from  the 
turn  of  fortune  ?  But  no.  I  Avatched  him 
now,  and  I  perceived  that  he  never  even 
looked  at  the  game.  At  last,  I  staked  all 
that  remained  in  one  coup,  and  lost ;  when, 
drawing  forth  my  own  purse,  I  was  about 
to  make  another  bet — "No,  no,  Burke," 
whispered  he  in  my  ear,  "I  was  only  wait- 
ing for  this  moment.  Let  us  come  away 
now.  I  rise  as  I  sat  down,  messieurs,"  he 
said,  gayly ;  while  he  added,  in  a  lower 
tone,  "  Sauf  I'honneur." 

"Have  you  had  enough  of  gayety  for  one 
night  ?"  said  he,  as  be  drew  my  arm  with- 
in his.      "Shall  we  turn  homeward  ?" 

"Willingly,"  said  I ;  for  somehow  I  felt 
chagrined  and  vexed  at  my  ill  luck,  and 
was  angry  with  myself  for  playing. 

"  Come  along,  then  ;  this  door  will  bring 
us  to  the  stairs." 

As  we  passed  along  hastily  through  the 
crowd,  I  saw  that  a  young  officer  in  a  hus- 
sar uniform  whispered  something  in  Du- 
chesne's ear,  to  which  he  quickly  replied, 
"Certainly;"  and  as  he  spoke  again  in 
the  same  low  tone,  Duchesne  answered, 
"Agreed,  sir,"  with  a  courteous  smile,  and 
a  look  of  much  pleasure. 

"Well,  Burke,"  said  he,  turning  to  me, 
"these  are  about  the  most  splendid  salons 
in  Paris  ;  I  think  I  never  saw  more  perfect 
taste  ;  I  certainly  must  thank  you  for  being 
my  chaperon  here." 


"  You  forget,  Duchesne,  the  Duchcsse 
de  Montserrat,  it  seems,"  said  I,  laughing. 

"By  Jove,  and  so  1  had!"  said  lie; 
"yet  the  initiative  lay  with  you.  How  the 
termination  may  be,  is  another  matter," 
added  he,  in  a  mumbling  voice,  not  intend- 
ed to  be  heard. 

"At  all  events,"  said  I,  puzzled  what  to 
say,  and  feeling  I  should  say  something, 
"  I  am  happy  your  Russian  friend  took  no 
notice  of  your  speech." 

"And  why  ?"  said  he,  with  a  peculiar 
smile — "  and  why  ?  " 

"  I  abhor  a  duel,  in  the  first  place/' 

"  But,  my  dear  boy,  that  speech  smacks 
much  more  of  the  Ecole  des  Jesuites  than  of 
St.  Cyr.  Don't  let  anyone  less  your  friend 
than  I  am  hear  you  say  so." 

"  I  care  not  who  may  hear  it.  Necessity 
may  make  me  meet  an  adversary  in  single 
combat ;  but  as  to  acting  the  cold-blooded 
part  of  a  bystander — as  to  being  the  wit- 
ness of  my  friend's  crime,  or  his  own 
death—" 

"  Come,  come  ;  when  you  exchange  the 
dolman  for  an  alb.  I'll  listen  to  this  from 
you,  if  I  can  listen  to  it  from  anyone  ;  but, 
happily,  now  we  have  no  time  for  more  mo- 
rality, for  here  comes  the  carriage." 

Chatting  pleasantly  about  the  soiree  and 
its  company,  we  rolled  along  toward  our 
quarters,  and  parted  with  a  cordial  shake 
of  the  hand  for  the  night. 


CHAPTER    LVI. 

A    "SALLE   DE   POLICE." 

When  I  entered  the  breakfast-room  the 
following  morning,  I  found  Duchesne 
stretched  before  the  fire,  in  an  easy  chair, 
busily  engaged  in  reading  the  Moniteur  of 
that  day,  where  a  long  list  of  imperial 
"  ordonnances  "  filled  nearly  three  columns. 

"Here  have  I  been,"  said  he,  "conning 
over  this  catalogue  of  princely  favor  these 
twenty  minutes,  and  yet  cannot  discern  one 
Avord  of  our  Avell-beloved  cousins  Captains 
Burke  and  Duchesne  ;  and  yet  there  seems 
to  be  a  hailstorm  of  promotions.  Some  of 
them  have  got  grand  duchies — some,  prin- 
cipalities— some  have  the  cross  of  the  Le- 
gion— and  here,  by  Jove  !  are  some  endowed 
with  wives.  Noav  that  his  Majesty  has  taken 
to  christening  and  marrying,  I  suppose 
we  shall  soon  see  him  administering  all  the 
succors  of  holy  Church.  Have  .you  much 
interest  in  hearing  that  Talleyrand  is  to  be 
called  Prince  of  Benevente,  and  Murat  is 
now  Grand  Duke  of  Berg  ;  that  Sebastiani 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


481 


is  to  be  married  to  Mademoiselle  de  Coigny  ; 
and  Monsieur  Decazes,  fils  de  M.  Decazes, 
has  taken  some  one  else  to  wife  ?  Oh  dear, 
oh  dear  !  It's  all  very  tiresome,  and  not 
even  the  fete  of  St.  Napoleon — " 

"Of  whom  ?"  said  I,  laughing. 

"St.  Napoleon,  parbleu ! — it's  no  joking 
matter,  I  assure  you.  Here  is  the  letter  of 
the  cardinal  legate  to  the  archbishops  and 
bishops  of  France,  commanding  that  the 
first  Sunday  in  the  August  of  each  year 
should  be  set  apart  to  celebrate  his  saint- 
ship,  with  an  account  of  the  processions  to 
take  place,  and  various  plenary  indulgences 
to  the  pious  who  shall  present  themselves 
on  the  occasion.  Fouche  could  tell  you  the 
names  of  some  people  who  bled  freely  to 
get  rid  of  all  this  trumpery  ;  and,  in  good 
sooth,  it's  rather  hard,  if  we  could  not  en- 
dure St.  Louis,  to  be  obliged  to  tolerate  St. 
Napoleon — saints,  like  Bordeaux  wine,  be- 
ing all  the  more  palatable  when  they  have 
age  to  mellow  them.  I  could  forgive  any- 
thing, however,  but  this  system  of  forced 
marriages — it  smacks  too  much  of  old  Fred- 
erick for  my  taste  ;  and  one  cannot  always 
have  the  luck  of  your  friend  General  d'Au- 
verg'ne." 

I  felt  my  cheek  grow  burning  hot  at  the 
words.  Duchesne  did  not  notice  my  con- 
fusion, but  continued  : 

"  And  yet,  of  all  the  ill-assorted  unions 
for  which  his  sainted  Majesty  will  have  to 
account  hereafter,  that  was  unquestionably 
the  most  extraordinary." 

"  But  I  have  heard,  and  I  believe  it  too, 
that  the  marriage  was  not  of  the  Emperor's 
making  ;  it  was  purely  a  matter  of  liking." 

"  Come,  come,  Burke,"  said  he,  laugh- 
ing, "  you  will  not  tell  me  that  the  hand- 
somest girl  at  the  court,  with  a  large  dow- 
ry, an  ancient  name,  and  every  advantage 
of  position,  marries  an  old  weather-beaten 
soldier — the  senior  officer  of  her  own  father 
once — of  her  own  free  will  and  choice.  The 
thing  is  absurd.  No,  no.  These  are  the 
imperial  recompenses,  when  grand  duchies 
are  scarce  and  confiscations  few.  The  Em- 
peror does  not  travel  for  nothing.  He 
brought  back  with  him  from  Egypt  some- 
thing besides  his  Mameluke  guard — that 
clever  trick  the  pachas  have  of  providing  a 
favorite  with  an  ex-sultana.  There,  there 
— don't  look  so  angrily.  We  shall  both  be 
marshals  of  France  one  of  these  days,  and 
that  may  reconcile  one  to  a  great  deal." 

"  You  are  determined  to  owe  nothing  of 
your  promotion  to  a  blind  devotion  to  Na- 
poleon— that's  certain,"  said  I,  annoyed  at 
the  tone  of  insolent  disparagement  in  which 
he  spoke. 

"You  are  right — perfectly  right  there," 

VOL.  1—31 


replied  he,  in  a  quiet  tone  of  voice.  "  No 
man  would  rather  hug  himself  up  in  an  il- 
lusion, if  he  could  but  make  it  minister  to 
his  pleasure  or  his  enjoyment ;  but  when  it 
does  neither — when  the  material  is  so  fli. 
as  to  be  seen  through  at  every  minute — 1 
throw  it  from  me  as  a  worthless  garment, 
unfit  to  wear." 

"  Can  you,  then,  deem  Napoleon's  glory 
such  ?" 

"Of  course,  to  me,  it  is.  How  am  1  a 
sharer  in  his  triumphs,  save  as  the  charger 
that  marches  in  the  cavalcade  ?  You  don't 
perceive  that  I,  as  the  descendant  of  an  old 
loyalist  family,  would  have  fared  far  better 
with  the  Bourbons,  from  reasons  of  blood 
and  kindred  ;  and  a  hundred  times  better 
with  the  Jacobins,  from  very  recklessness." 

"  How  then  came  it — " 

"  I  will  spare  you  the  question.  I  neither 
liked  emigration  nor  the  guillotine,  and 
preferred  the  slow  suffering  of  ennui  to  the 
quick  death  of  the '  scaffold.  There  has 
been  but  one  career  in  France  for  man}'  a 
day  past.  I  adopted  it,  as  much  from  ne- 
cessity as  choice — I  followed  it  more  from 
habit  than  either." 

"  But  you  cannot  be  insensible  to  the 
greatness  of  your  country,  nor  her  success 
in  arms." 

"'Nor  am  I ;  but  these  things  are  a  small 
ingredient  in  patriotism.  You,  the  stran- 
ger, share  with  us  all  our  triumphs  in  the 
field.  But  the  inherent  features  of  a  na- 
tion—the distinctive  traits  of  which  every 
son  of  the  soil  feels  proud — where  are  they 
now  ?  What  is  France  to  me  more  than  to 
you  ?  One  half  my  kindred  are  exiled  ; 
of  those  who  remain,  many  regard  me  as  a 
renegade.  Their  properties  confiscated, 
themselves  suspected,  what  tie  binds  them 
to  this  country  ?  You  are  not  more  an 
alien  here  than.  I  am." 

"And  yet,  Duchesne,  you  shed  your 
blood  freely  for  this  same  cause  you  con- 
demn. You  charged  the  Pratzen,  some 
days  ago,  with  four  squadrons,  against  a 
whole  column  of  Russian  cavalry." 

"Ay,  and  would  again  to-morrow,  boy. 
Had  you  been  a  gambler,  I  needn't  hart, 
told  you  that  it  is  the  game,  not  the  stake, 
that  interests  the  real  gamester.  But  come, 
do  not  fancy  I  want  to  make  you  a  convert 
to  these  tiresome  theories  of  mine.  What 
say  you  to  the  pretty  Mademoiselle  Pauline? 
Did'  you  admire  her  much  ?  " 

"  She  is  unquestionably  very  handsome  , 
but,  if  I  must  confess  it,  her  manner  to- 
ward me  was  too  ungracious  to  make  me 
loud  in  her  praise." 

"  I  like  that,  I  vow,"  said  Duchesne  ; 
"  that  saucy  air  has  an  indescribable  charm 


482 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


for  me.  I  don't  know  if  it  is  not  the  very 
thing  which  pleases  me  most  about  her.  She 
has  been  spoiled  by  Battery  and  admira- 
tion; for  her  beauty  and  her  fortune  are 
prizes  in  the  great  wheel.  And  that  she  is 
aware  of  the  fact  isnothing  wonderful,  con- 
sidering that  she  hears  it  repeated  every 
evening  of  her  life,  by  every  rank  in  the 
service,  from  a  .Marshal  of  France  down  to 
— a  captain  in  the  chasseurs  a  cheval,"  said 
he.  laughing. 

"  Who,  probably,  was  one  of  the  last, 
to  tell  her  so,"  said  I,  looking  at  him  slyly, 

"  What  have  we  here  ?  "  said  he,  sudden- 
ly, without  paying  any  attention  to  my  re- 
mark, as  he  again  took  up  the  Moniteur. 
"  '  It  is  rumored  that  the  Russian  Prince, 
Drobretski,  was  dangerously  wounded  this 
morning  in  an  affair  of  honor  ;  the  names 
of  the  other  party  and  the  seconds  are  still 
unknown  ;  but  the  efforts  of  the  police, 
stimulated  by  the  express  command  of  the 
Emperor,  will,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  succeed  in 
discovering  them  ere  long.'  " 

"  Is  not  that  the  name  of  your  Russian 
friend  of  last  night,  Duchesne  ?  " 

"Yes;  and  the  same  person,  too,  for- 
merly Russian  minister  at  Madrid  and  lat- 
terly residing  on  his  parole  at  Paris,"  con- 
tinued he,  reading  from  the  paper.  "  '  The 
very  decided  part  his  Majesty  has  taken 
against  the  practice  of  dueling  is  strength- 
ened on  this  occasion  by  a  recent  order  of 
council  respecting  the  prisoners  on  parole.' 
Diable!  Burke,  what  a  scrupulous  turn 
Napoleon  seems  to  have  taken  in  regard  to 
these  Cossacks.  And  here  follows  a  long 
list  of  witnesses  who  have  seen  nothing, 
and  suspicious  circumstances  that  occur 
every  morning  in  the  week  without  remark. 
After  all,  I  don't  think  the  Empire  has  ad- 
vanced us  much  on  the  score  of  police — the 
same  threadbare  jests,  the  same  old  practi- 
cal jokes,  amused  the  bourgeoisie  in  the 
time  of  Louis  XIV." 

"  I  don't  clearly  understand  your  mean- 
ing." 

"It  is  simply  this:  that  every  govern- 
ment of  France,  from  Pepin  downward, 
has  understood  the  value  of  throwing  public 
interest,  from  time  to  time,  on  a  false  scent, 
and  to  this  end  has  maintained  a  police. 
Now,  if  for  any  cause  his  Majesty  thought 
proper  to  incarcerate  that  Russian  Prince 
in  the  Temple,  or  La  Force,  the  affair 
would  cause  a  tremendous  sensation  in 
Paris,  and  soon  would  ring  over  the  whole 
of  Germany  and  the  rest  of  Europe,  with 
every  variation  of  despotism,  tyranny,  and 
all  that,  attached  to  it,  long  before  any  ad- 
vantages to  be  derived  from  the  step  could 
be  realized.     Whereas,  see  the  effect  of  an 


opposite  policy.  By  this  report  of  a  duel, 
for  instance — I  don't  mean  to  assert  it  false, 
here — the  whole  object  is  attained,  and  an 
admirable  .subject  of  imperial  praise  ob- 
tained into  the  bargain.  Governments 
have  learned  wisdom  from  the  cuttle-fish, 
and  can  muddy  the  water  on  their  enemies 
at  the  moment  of  danger.  I  should  not  be 
surprised  if  the  affairs  of  the  Bank  looked 
badly  this  morning." 

"  It  is  evident,  then,  you  disbelieve  the 
whole  statement  about  the  duel." 

"  My  dear  friend."  said  he,  smiling, 
"  who  is  therein  all  Paris,  from  Montmar- 
tre  to  St.  Denis,  believes,  or  disbelieves, 
any  one  thing  in  the  times  we  live  in  ? 
Have  we  not  trusted  so  implicitly  for  years 
past  to  the  light  of  our  reason,  that  we  have 
actually  injured  our  eyesight  with  its  bril- 
liancy ?  Little  reproach,  indeed,  to  our 
minds,  when  our  very  senses  seem  to  mis- 
lead us — when  one  sees  the  people  who 
enter  the  Tuileries  now,  with  embroidered 
coats,  who,  in  our  fathers' days,  never  came 
nearer  to  it  than  the  Place  du  Carrousel. 
Helas!  it's  no  time  for  incredulity,  that's 
certain.  But  to  conclude,"  said  he,  turn- 
ing to  the  paper  once  more — "  '  The  com- 
missaires  de  police  throughout  Paris  have 
received  orders  to  spare  no  effort  to  tin 
ravel  the  mystery,  and  detect  the  other  par- 
ties in  this  unhappy  affair.'  Military  tri- 
bunal—  prisoners  on  parole — rights  of 
hospitality — honor  6f  France — and  the  old 
peroration,  the  usual  compliment  on  the 
wisdom  which  presides  over  every  depart- 
ment of  state.  How  weary  I  do  become  of 
all  this  !  Let  your  barber  puff  his  dye  for 
the  whiskers,  or  your  bootmaker  the  in- 
comparable effulgence  of  his  blacking,  the 
thing  is  m  keeping,  no  one  objects  to  it. 
I  don't  find  fault  with  my  old  friend  Pi- 
gault  Lebrun,  if  he  now  and  then  plays  the 
critic  on  himself,  and  shows  the  world  the 
beauties  they  neglectfully  slurred  over. 
But,  Burke,  have  you  ever  seen  a  bureau  de 
police  ?  " 

"Never  ;  and  I  have  the  greatest  curiosity 
to  do  so." 

"  Come,  then,  I'll  be  your  guide  ;  the 
commissaire  of  this  quarter  has  a  very  ex- 
tended jurisdiction,  stretching  away  toward 
the  Bois  de  Boulogne  ;  and  if  there  be  any 
thing  in  this  report,  he  is  certain  to  know 
it  ;  and  assuredly,  no  other  topic  will  be 
talked  of  till  to-morrow  evening,  for  it's 
not  Opera  night,  and  Talma  does  not  play 
either." 

I  willingly  accepted  this  proposition  ;  and 
when  our  breakfast  was  over,  we  mounted 
our  horses,  and  set  out  for  the  place  in 
question. 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS. 


483 


"If  the  fomi'3  of  justice  where  we  are 
now  going,"  said  Duchesne,  "be  divested 
of  much  of  their  pomp  and  ceremony,  be 
assured  of  one  thing,  it  is  not  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  more  material  essence.  Of  all 
the  police  tribunals  about  Paris,  this  ob- 
scure den  in  the  Euo  dc  Dix  Sous  is  the 
most  effective.  Situated  in  a  quarter  where 
crime  is  as  rife  as  fever  in  the  Pontine 
Marshes,  it  has  become  acquainted  with  the 
haunts  and  habits  of  the  lowest  class  in  Paris 
— the  lowest  class,  probably,  in  any  city  of 
Europe.  Watching  with  parental  solicitude, 
it  tracks  the  criminal  from  his  first  step  in 
nee  to  his  last  deed  in  crime ;  from  his 
petty  theft  to  his  murder.  Knowing  the 
necessities  to  which  poverty  impels  men, 
and  studying  with  attention  the  impulses 
that  grow  up  amid  despair  and  hunger,  it 
sees  motives  through  a  mist  of  intervening 
circumstances  that  would  baffle  less  subtle 
observers,  and  can  trace  the  tortuous  wind- 
ings of  crime  where  no  other  sight  could 
find  the  clue.  Is  it  not  strange  to  think 
with  what  ingenuity  men  will  investigate 
the  minute  anatomy  of  vice,  and  how  little 
they  will  do  to  apply  this  knowledge  to  its 
remedy  ?  Like  the  surgeon,  enamored  of 
his  operating  skill,  he  would  rather  exhibit 
his  dexterity  in  the  amputation,  than  his 
Bcience  in  saving  the  limb.  Such  is  the 
bureau  of  the  police  in  the  poorer  quarters. 
In  the  more  fashionable  ones  it  takes  a 
higher  flight,  amusing  the  world  with  its 
scenes  ;  alternately  humorous  and  pathetic, 
it  forms  a  kind  of  feature  in  the  literature 
of  the  period,  and  is  the  only  reading  of 
thousands.  In  these  places  the  commissaire 
is  usually  a  bon  vivant  and  a  wit ;  despising 
the  miserable  function  of  administering  the 
law,  he  takes  his  seat  upon  the  bench,  to 
cap  jokes  with  the  witnesses,  puzzle  the 
complainant,  and  embarrass  the  prisoner. 
To  the  reporters  alone  is  he  civil  ;  and  in 
return,  his  poor  witticisms  appear  in  the 
morning  papers,  with  the  usual  '  loud 
laughter,'  that  never  existed  save  in  type." 

As  we  thus  chatted,  we  entered  a  quarter 
of  dirty  and  narrow  streets,  inhabited  by  a 
poor-looking,  squalid  population — the  wo- 
men, with  little  to  mark  their  sex  in  their 
coarse,  heavy  countenances,  wore  colored 
kerchiefs  on  their  heads,  in  lieu  of  a  cap, 
and  were,  for  the  most  part,  without  shoes 
or  stockings.  The  men,  a  brutalized,  stu- 
pid race,  sat  smoking  in  the  doorways — 
scarcely  lifting  their  eyes  as  we  passed  ;  or 
some  were  eating  a  coarse  morsel  of  black 
rye  bread,  which,  by  their  eagerness  in  de- 
vouring it,  seemed  an  unusual  delicacy. 

"You  scarcely  believed  there  was  such 
poverty  in  Paris,"'  said  he ;  "but  this  is  by 


no  means  the  worst  of  the  quarter.  Though 
M.  de  Champagny,  in  his  late  report,  makes 
no  mention  of  these  'signs  of  prosperity,' 
we  arc  now  entering  the  region  where,  even 
in  noonday,  the  passage  is  deemed  perilous  ; 
but  the  number  of  police  agents  on  duty 
to-day  will  make  the  journey  a  safe  one." 

The  street  we  entered  at  the  moment  con- 
sisted of  amass  of  tall  houses,  almost  falling 
from  decay  and  neglect ;  scarcely  a  window 
remained  in  many  of  them — while  in  front, 
a  row  of  miserable  booths,  formed  of  rude 
planks,  narrowed  the  passage  to  a  mere 
path,  scarce  wide  enough  for  three  people 
abreast.  There,  vice  of  every  description, 
and  drunkenness,  waited  not  for  the  dark 
hours  to  shroud  them,  but  came  forth  in 
the  sunlight — the  ruffian  shouts  of  intoxica- 
tion mingling  with  the  almost  maniacal 
laugh  of  misery,  or  the  reckless  chorus  of 
some  degrading  song.  Half-naked  wretches 
leaned  from  the  windows  as  we  passed  along, 
some  staring  in  stupid  wonderment  at  our 
appearance  ;  others  saluting  us  with  mock- 
ery and  grimace — or  even  calling  out  to  us 
in  the  slang  dialect  of  the  place. 

"Yes,"  said  Duchesne,  as  he  saw  the  ex- 
pression of  horror  and  disgust  the  scene  im- 
pressed on  me,  "here  are. the  rotting  seeds 
of  revolutions  putrifying,  to  germinate  at 
some  future  day.  Starvation  and  vice, 
misery,  even  to  despair,  inhabit  every  den 
around  you.  The  furious  and  bloodthirsty 
wretch  of  '92,  the  Chouan,  the  Jacobite, 
the  escaped  galley-slave,  the  untaken  mur- 
derer, are  here,  side  by  side — crime  their 
great  bond  of  union.  To  this  place  men 
come  for  an  assassin,  or  a  false  witness,  as 
to  a  market.  Such  are  the  wrecks  the  re- 
tiring waves  of  a  revolution  have  left  us. 
So  long  as  the  trade  of  blood  lasted,  openly, 
like  vultures,  they  fattened  on  it ;  but  once 
the  reign  of  order  restored,  they  were  driven 
to  murder  and  outrage  as  a  livelihood." 

While  he  was  speaking,  we  approached  a 
narrow  arched  passage,  within  which  a 
flight  of  stone  steps  arose.  "  We  dismount 
here,"  said  he.  At  the  same  moment  a 
group  of  ragged  creatures,  of  every  age,  sur- 
rounded us  to  hold  our  horses,  not  noticing 
the  orderly  who  rode  at  some  distance  be- 
hind us.  I  followed  Duchesne  up  the  steps, 
and  along  a  gloomy  corridor,  to  a  little 
court-yard,  where  several  dismounted  gen- 
darmes were  standing  in  a  circle,  chatting. 
Passing  through  this,  we  entered  a  dirty, 
mean-looking  house,  around  the  door  of 
which  several  people  were  collected,  some 
of  whom  saluted  the  chevalier  as  he  came 
up. 

"  Who  are  these  fellows  ?  "  said  I.  "  They 
seem  to  know  you." 


484 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


"  Oh  {  nothing  but  the  common  police 
spies,"  said  lie,  carelessly  ;  "  the  fellows 
who  lounge  about  the  cabarets  and  the  low 
gambling-houses.  But  here  conies  one  of 
higher  mark."  As  he  spoke,  he  laid  his 
hand  on  the  arm  of  a  tall,  powerful-look- 
ing man ,  in  a  blouse  ;  be  wore  immense 
w  hiskers,  and  a  great  beard,  descending  far 
below  his  chin.  "Ah  !  Bocquin,  what 
have  we  got  going  forward  to-day  ?  I  came 
to  show  a  young  friend  here  the  interior  of 
your  salle. 

"  Monsieur  le  Oapitaine,  your  most  obe- 
dient," said  the  man,  in  a  deep  voice,  as  he 
removed  his  casquette,  and  bowed  ceremo- 
niously to  us  ;  "and  yours,  also,  monsieur," 
added  he,  turning  to  me.  "  Why,  there's 
nothing  to  speak  of,  save  that  duel,  capi- 
taine." 

"Come,  come,  Bocqnin,  no  nonsense 
with  me.    What  was  that  story  got  up  for?" 

"Ah!  you  mistake  there,"  said  Boc- 
quin. "By  Jove!  there's  a  man  badly 
wounded,  shot  through  the  neck,  and  no 
one  to  tell  a  word  about  it.  No  seconds 
present,  the  thing  done  quite  privately,  the 
wounded  man  left  at  his  own  door,  and  the 
other  off — Heaven  knows  where." 

"And  you  believe  this  tale,  Bocquin," 
said  Duchesne,  superciliously. 

"  Believe  it  ! — that  I  do.  I  have  been 
to  see  the  place  where  the  man  lay  ;  and, 
by  tracking  the  wheel-marks,  I  have  dis- 
covered they  came  from  the  Champs  Ely- 
sees.  The  cabriolet,  too,  was  a  private 
one— no  fiacre  has  got  so  narrow  a  tire  to 
the  wheel." 

"Closely  followed  up — eh,  Burke?" 
said  the  Chevalier,  turning  toward  me  with 
a  smile  of  admiration  at  his  sagacity.  "  Go 
on,  Bocquin." 

"  Well,  I  followed  the  scent  to  the  Bar- 
riere  de  l'Etoile,  where  I  learned  that  one 
cabriolet  passed  toward  the  Bois  de  Bou- 
logne, and  returned  in  about  half  an  hour. 
As  the  pace  was  a  sharp  one,  I  guessed 
they  could  not  have  gone  far,  and  so  I 
turned  into  the  wood  at  the  first  road  to 
the  right,  where  there  is  least  recourse  of 
people,  and,  by  Jove  !  I  was  all  correct. 
There,  in  a  small  open  space  between  the 
trees,  I  saw  the  marks  of  recent  footsteps, 
and  a  little  further  on,  found  the  grass  all 
covered  with  blood." 

"  Monsieur  Bocquin  !  Monsieur  Bocquin  ! 
the  commissaire  wants  you,"  cried  a  voice 
from  the  landing  of  the  stair  ;  and  with  an 
apology  for  leaving  thus  suddenly,  he  turned 
away.  We  followed,  however,  curious  to 
hear  the  remainder  of  this  singular  his- 
tory ;  and,  after  some  difficulty,  succeeded 
in  gaining  admittance  to  a  small   room, 


'  now  densely  crowded  with  people,  the 
most  of  whom  were  of  the  very  lowest 
class.  The  commissaire  speedily  made 
place  for  us  beside  him  on  the  bench  ;  for, 
like  every  one  else  in  any  conspicuous  posi- 
tion, he  also  was  an  acquaintance  of  Du- 
chesne. 

While  the  commissaire  conversed  with 
Bocquin  in  a  low  lone,  we  had  time  to 
observe  the  salle  and  its  occupants.  Ex- 
cept the  witnesses,  two  or  three  of  whom 
were  respectable  persons,-  they  were  the 
squalid-looking,  ragged  wretches  of  the 
quarter,  listening  with  the  greedy  appetite 
of  crime  to  any  tale  of  bloodshed.  The 
surgeon,  who  had  just  returned  from  visit- 
ing the  wounded  man,  was  waiting  to  be 
examined.  To  him  now  the  commissaire 
directed  his  attention.  It  appeared  that 
the  wound  was  by  no  means  of  the  danger- 
ous character  described,  being  merely 
through  the  fleshy  portion  of  the  neck, 
without  injuring  any  part  of  importance. 
Having  described  circumstantially  the  ex- 
tent of  the  injury,  and  its  probable  cause, 
he  replied  to  a  question  of  the  commissaire 
that  no  entreaty  could  persuade  the 
wounded  man  to  give  any  explanation  of 
the  occurrence,  nor  mention  the  name  of 
his  adversary.  Duchesne  paid  little  appa- 
rent attention  to  the  evidence,  and,  before  it 
was  concluded,  asked  me  if  I  were  satisfied 
with  my  police  experience,  and  disposed  to 
move  away.  Just  at  this  moment  there  was 
a  stir  among  the  people  around  the  door,  and 
we  heard  the  officers  of  the  court  cry  out, 
"  Room  !  make  way  there  !  "  and  the  same 
moment  General  Duroc  entered,  accom- 
panied by  an  aide-de-camp.  He  had  been 
sent  specially  by  the  Emperor,  to  ascer- 
tain what  progress  the  investigation  had 
made.  His  Majesty  had  determined  to 
push  the  inquiry  to  its  utmost  limits.  The 
general  appeared  dissatisfied  with  the  little 
prospect  there  appeared  of  elucidation  ; 
and,  turning  to  Duchesne,  remarked  : 

"This  is  peculiarly  ill-timed  just  now, 
as  negotiations  are  pending  with  Eussia, 
and  the  prince's  family  are  about  the  per- 
son of  the  Czar." 

"  But  as  the  wound  would  seem  of  little 
consequence,  in  a  few  days,  perhaps,  the 
whole  thing  may  blow  over,"  said  Du- 
chesne. 

"It  is  for  that  very  reason,"  replied 
Duroc,  earnestly,  "that  we  are  pressed  for 
time.  The  object  is  to  mark  the  senti- 
ments of  his  Majesty  now.  Should  the 
prince  be  once  pronounced  out  of  danger, 
it  will  be  too  late  for  sympathy." 

"  Oh,  I  perceive,"  said  Duchesne,  smil- 
ing ;  "your  observation  is  most  just.     If 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


485 


my  friend,  here,  however,  cannot  put  you 
on  the  track,  I  fear  you  have  little  to  hope 
for  elsewhere." 

'  •  I  am  aware  of  that,  and  Monsieur 
Cauchois  knows  the  great  reliance  his 
Majesty  reposes  in  his  skill  and  activity." 

Monsieur  Cauchois,  the  commissaire, 
bowed  with  a  most  respectful  air  at  the 
compliment,  probably  of  all  others  the 
highest  that  could  be  paid  him. 

"  A  brilliant  soiree  we  had  last  evening, 
Duchesne,"  said  the  general.  "I hope  this 
unhappy  affair  will  not  close  that  house  at 
present.  You  are  aware  the  prince  is  the 
suitor  of  mademoiselle  ?  " 

"  I  only  suspected  as  much,"  said  the 
Chevalier,  with  a  peculiar  smile.  "  It  was 
my  first  evening  there." 

As  General  Duroc  addressed  a  few  words 
in  a  low  tone  to  the  commissaire,  the  man 
called  Bocquin  approached  the  bench,  and 
handed  up  a  small  slip  of  paper  to  Du- 
chesne. The  chevalier  opened  it,  and 
having  thrown  his  eyes  over  it,  passed  it 
into  my  hand.  All  I  could  see  were  two 
words,  written  coarsely  with  the  pencil — 
"  How  much  ?" 

The  chevalier  turned  the  back  of  the  pa- 
per and  wrote — "Fifty  Napoleons." 

On  reading  which  the  large  man  tore  the 
scrap,  and  nodding  slightly  with  his  head, 
sauntered  from  the  room.  We  rose  a  few 
moments  after,  and  having  taken  a  formal 
leave  of  the  general  and  the  commissaire, 
proceeded  toward  the  street,  where  we  had 
left  our  horses.  As  we  passed  along  the  cor- 
ridor, however,  we  found  Bocquin  awaiting 
us.  He  opened  a  door  into  a  small,  mean- 
looking  apartment,  of  which  he  appeared  the 
owner.  Having  ushered  us  in,  and  cau- 
tiously closed  it  behind  him,  he  drew  from 
his  pocket  a  piece  of  cloth,  to  which  a  but- 
ton and  a  piece  of  gold  embroidery  were 
attached. 

"  Your  jacket  would  be  spoiled  without 
this  morsel,  captain,"  said  he,  laughing,  in 
a  low,  dry  laugh. 

"So  it  would,  Bocquin,"  said  Duchesne, 
examining  his  coat,  which  I  now  perceived 
was  torn  on  the  shoulder,  and  a  small  piece, 
the  exact  one  in  his  hand,  wanting,  but 
which  had  escaped  my  attention  from  the 
mass  of  gold  lace  and  embroidery  with 
which  it  was  covered.' 

"Do  you  know,  Bocquin,"  said  Du- 
chesne, in  a  tone  much  graver  than  he  had 
used  before,  "I  never  noticed  that  ? " 

"  Parbleu!  I  believe  you,"  said  he, 
laughing  ;  "nor  did  I,  till  you  sat  on  the 
bench  ;  when  I  was  so  pleased  with  your 
coolness,  I  could  not,  for  the  life  of  me, 
interrupt  you." 


"Have  you  got  any  money,  Burke?" 
said  the  Chevalier,  "  some  twenty  gold 
pieces — " 

"No,  no,  captain,,''  said  Bocquin,  "not 
now— another  time.  I  must  call  upon  you 
one  of  these  mornings  about  another  affair, 
and  it  will  be  time  enough  then." 

"As  you  please,  Bocquin,"  said  the 
Chevalier,  putting  up  his  purse  again  ; 
"and  so,  till  we  meet.'' 

"Till  we  meet,  gentlemen,"  replied  the 
other,  as  he  bowed  us  respectfully  to  tie 
door. 

"You  seem  to  have  but  a  very  faint 
comprehension  of  all  this,  Burke,"  said 
Duchesne,  as  he  took  my  arm  ;  "you  look 
confoundedly  puzzled,  I  must  say." 

"  If  I  didn't,  I  should  be  an  admirable 
actor — that's  all,"  said  I. 

"  Why,  I  think  the  thing  is  plain  enough, 
in  all  conscience  ;  Bocquin  found  that  piece 
of  my  jacket  on  the  ground,  and,  of  course, 
the  affair  was  in  his  hands." 

"  Why,  do  you  mean  to  say — " 

"That  I  shot  Monsieur  le  Prince  this 
morning,  at  a  quarter  past  seven  o'clock — 
and  felt  devilish  uncomfortable  about  it  till 
the  last  ten  minutes,  my  boy.  If  I  did  not 
confide  the  matter  to  you  before,  it  was  be- 
cause that  until  all  chance  of  detection  was 
passed,  I  could  not  expose  you  to  the  risk  of 
an  examination  before  the  prefet  de  police. 
Happily  now  these  dangers  are  all  over. 
Bocquin  is  too  clever  a  fellow  not  to  throw 
all  the  other  spies  on  a  wrong  scent,  so  that 
we  need  have  no  fear  of  the  result."  I 
could  scarcely  credit  the  evidence  of  my 
senses,  at  the  coolness  and  duplicity  of  the 
chevalier  throughout  an  affair  of  such  im- 
minent risk,  nor  was  I  less  astonished  at 
the  account  he  gave  of  the  whole  proceed- 
ing. 

One  word,  on  leaving  the  soiree,  had  de- 
cided there  should  be  a  meeting  the  follow- 
ing day  ;  and  as  the  Russian  well  knew  the 
danger  of  his  adventure,  from  the  law 
which  was  recently  passed  regarding  pris- 
oners on  parole,  he  proposed  they  should 
meet  without  seconds  on  either  side.  Du- 
chesne acceded  ;  and  it  was  arranged  that 
the  chevalier  should  drive  along  the  Rue 
de  Rivoli,  at  seven  the  next  morning,  where 
the  Russian  would  join  him,  and  they 
should  drive  together  to  the  Bois  de  Bou- 
logne. 

"To  do  my  Cossack  justice,"  said  Du- 
chesne, "he  behaved  admirably  through- 
out, the  whole  affair  ;  and  on  taking^  his 
place  beside  me  in  the  cab,  entered  into 
conversation  freely  and  easily  on  the  topics 
of  the  day.  We  chatted  of  the  campaign — 
of  the   cavalry — of   the  Russian  service— 


*86 


I 7/ .  I  R  L  ES  LE  VERS   WORKS. 


their  size  and  equipment  only  needing  a 
higher  organization  to  make  them  firsi  rate 
troops.  We  spoke  of  the  Emperor  Alex- 
ander, of  whom  lie  was  evidently  proud, 
and  much  pleased  to  hear  the  favorable 
opinion  Napoleon  entertained  of  his  ability 
and  capacity  ;  and  it  was  in  the  middle  of 
an  anecdote  about  Savary  and  the  Czar  we 
arrived  at  the  Bois  de  Boulogne. 

"I  need  not  tell  you  the  details  of  the 
affair,  save  that  we  loaded  our  own  pistols, 
and  stepped  the  ground  ourselves.  They 
were  like  other  things  of  the  same  sort— 
the  first  shot  concluded  the  matter.  I 
aimed  at  his  shoulder,  but  the  pistol  threw 
high.  As  to  his  bullet,  it  was  only  a  while 
ago  I  knew  it  went  so  near  me.  It  was 
nervous  work,  passing  the  barriere  ;  for 
had  he  not  made  an  effort  to  sit  up  straight 
in  the  cab,  the  sentry  might  have  detained 
and  examined  us.  All  that  you  heard 
about  his  being  left  at  his  own  door,  cov- 
ered with  blood,  and  fainting,  I  need  not 
toll  you  has  no  truth.  I  never  left  the  spot 
till  the  door  was  opened,  and  I  saw  him  in 
the  hands  of  a  servant.  Of  course  I  con- 
cealed my  face,  and  then  drove  off,  at  full 
speed." 

By  this  time  we  arrived  at  the  Luxem- 
bourg, and  Duchesne,  with  all  the  coolness 
in  the  world,  joined  a  knot  of  persons  en- 
gaged in  discussing  the  duel,  and  endeav- 
oring, by  sundry  clever  and  ingenious  ex- 
planations, to  account  for  the  circumstance. 

As  I  sauntered  along  to  my  quarters,  I 
pondered  over  the  adventure,  and  the  char- 
acter of  the*  chevalier  ;  and  however  I  might 
turn  the  matter  in  my  mind,  one  thought 
was  ever  uppermost — a  sincere  wish  that 
I  had  not  been  made  his  confidant  in  the 
secret. 


CHAPTER   LVII. 

THE   RETURX   Or    THE    WOUNDED. 

A  few  mornings  after  this  occurrence, 
when,  as  Duchesne  himself  prophesied,  all 
memory  of  it  was  completely  forgotten,  the 
ordre  dujour  from  the  Tuileries  command- 
ed all  the  troops  then  garrisoned  in  Paris 
to  be  under  arms  at  an  early  hour  in  the 
Champs  Elysees,  when  the  Emperor  would 
pass  them  in  review.  The  spectacle  had, 
however,  another  object,  which  was  not 
generally  known.  The  convoys  of  the 
wounded  from  Austerlitz  were  that  same 
day  to  arrive  at  Paris,  and  the  display  of 
troops  was  intended  at  once  to  honor  this 
entree,  and  give  to  the  sad  procession  of 
the  maimed  and  dying  the 'semblance  of  a 


triumph.  Such  »ntf<3  vne  artful  devices 
which  ever  ministered  to  the  deceit  of  the 
nation,  and  suffered    them  to  look  on  but 

one  side  of  their  glory. 

As  I  anticipated,  the  chevalier  was  great- 
ly out  of  temper  at  the  whole  of  this 
proceeding.  lie  detested  nothing  more 
than  those  military  displays  which  are  . 
up  for  the  populace  ;  he  despised  the  exhi- 
bition of  troops  to  the  vulgar  and  unmeaning 
criticism  of  tailors  and  barbers  ;  and,  more 
than  all,  he  shrank  from  the  companion- 
ship of  the  National  Guard  of  Paris — 
those  shop-keeping  soldiers,  with  their 
umbrellas  and  spectacles,  who  figured  with 
such  pride  on  these  occasions. 

"Another  affair  like  this,"  said  hej 
passionately,  "and  I'd  resign  my  com- 
mission. A  procession  at  the  Porte  St. 
Martin — the  bceuf  gras  on  Easter  Monday 
— I'm  your  man  for  either  ;  but  to  sit  bolt 
upright  on  your  saddle  for  three,  may- 
be four  hours — to  be  stared  at  by  every 
bourgeois  from  the  Rue  du  Bac — to  be 
pointed  at  with  pink  parasols,  and  com- 
pared with  some  ribbon-vender  of  the 
Boulevards — par  St.  Louis  !  I  can't  even 
bear  to  think  of  it !  Look  yonder,"  said 
he,  pointing  to  the  court  of  the  palace, 
where  already  a  regiment  was  draAvn  up, 
under  arms,  and  passing  in  inspection  be- 
fore the  colonel ;  "  there  begins  the  dress- 
rehearsal  already.  His  Majesty  says  mid- 
day— the  generals  of  division  draw  out  their 
men  at  eleven  o'clock — the  colonels  take  a 
look  at  their  corps  at  ten — the  chefs  de 
bataiUon  at  nine — and,  parbleu !  the  cor- 
porals are  at. work  by  clay-break.  Then, 
what  confounded  drilling  and  dressing  up, 
as  if  Napoleon  could  detect  the  slightest 
waving  of  the  line  over  two  leagues  of 
ground;  while  you  see  the  luckless  adju- 
tants flying  hither  and  thither,  cursing, 
imprecating,  and  threatening,  and  hastily 
reiterating  at  the  head  of  each  company 
'Remember,  men — be  sure  to  remember — 
that  when  the  drums  beat  to  arms,  you 
shout,  "  Vice  VEmpereur  /'"  Rely  upon 
it,  Burke,  if  we  had  but  one  half  of  these 
preparations  before  a  battle  we'd  not  be 
the  dangerous  fellows  those  Russians  and 
Austrians  think  us." 

"  Come,  come,"  said  I,  "you  shall  not 
persuade  me  that  the  soldiers  feel  no  pride 
on  these  occasions.  The  same  men  who 
fight  so  valiantly  for  their  Emperor — " 

"Stop  there,  I  beg  of  you,"  said  he, 
bursting  into  a  fit  of  laughter.  "I  must 
really  cry  halt  now.  So  long  as  you  live, 
my  dear  friend,  let  nothing  induce  you  to 
repeat  that  worn  cant,  ' Fight  for  their 
Emperor?'     Why,  they  fought  as  bravely 


TO M  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


iV 


for   Turenne,    and  Villars,    and   Marechal 

Saxe  ;  they  were  as  full  of  courage  under 
Moreau,  and  Kleber,  and  Desaix,  and  Iloehe 
— ay,  and  will  be  again  when  the  Emperor 
is  no  more,  and  Heaven  knows  who  stands 
in  his  place.  The  genius  of  a  French  army 
Is  fighting,  not  for  gain,  nor  plunder,  nor 
even  for  glory,  so  much  as  for  fighting 
itself ;  and  he  is  the  best  man  who  gives 
them  most  of  it.  What  reduced  the  reck- 
less hordes  of  the  revolution  to  habits  of 
discipline  and  obedience  but  the  war-like 
spirit  of  their  leaders,  whose  bravery  they 
respected  ?  And  think  you  Napoleon  him- 
self does  not  feel  this  in  his  heart,  and 
know  the  necessity  of  continual  war,  to 
'feed  the  insatiable  appetite  of  his  followers  ? 
In  a  word,  my  friend,"  added  he,  in  a  tone 
of  mock  solemnity,  "  we  are  a  great  people, 
and  nature  intended  us  to  be  so,  by  giving 
us  a  language  in  which  'Gloire'  rhymes 
with  '  Victoire;'  and  now  for  the  march, 
for  I  fancy  we  are  late  enough  already." 

There  are  few  sources  of  annoyance 
more  poignant  than  to  discover  any  illusion 
we  have  long  indulged  in  assailed  by  the 
sneers  and  sarcasms  of  another,  who  assumes 
a  tone  of  superior  wisdom  on  the  faith  of 
i  difference  of  opinion.  The  mass  of  our 
likings  and  dislikings  find  their  way  into 
our  heart,  more  from  impulse  than  reason, 
and  when  attacked  are  scarcely  defensible 
by  any  effort  of  the  understanding.  This 
very  fact  renders  us  more  painfully  alive 
to  their  preservation,  and  we  shrink  in- 
stinctively from  any  discussion  of  them. 
While -such  is  the  case,  we  feel  more  bitter- 
ly the  cruelty  of  him  who*,  out  of  mere 
wantonness,  can  sport  with  the  sources  of 
our  happiness,  and  assail  the  hidden  stores 
of  so  many  of  our  pleasures,  for,  unhappily, 
the  mockery  once  listened  to  lies  associated 
with  the  idea  forever. 

Already  had  Duchesne  stripped  me  of 
more  than  one  delusion,  and  made  me  feel 
that  I  was  but  indulging  in  a  deceptive 
happiness  in  my  dream  of  life  ;  and  often 
did  I  regret  that  I  ever  knew  him.  It  is 
not  enough  to  feel  the  sophistry  of  one's 
adversary,  you  should  be  able  to  detect  and 
expose  it,  otherwise  the  triumphant  tone 
he  assumes  gives  him  an  air  qf  victory 
which  ends  by  imposing  on  yourself;  and 
of  this  I  now  felt  convinced  in  my  own 
case. 

These  thoughts  rendered  me  silent  as  we 
wended  our  way  toward  the  Tuileries,  where 
the  various  officers  of  the  staff  and  the  corps 
d'clite  were  assembled.  Here  we  found 
several  of  the  marshals  in  waiting  for  the 
Emperor,  while  the  Mameluke  Guard,  in 
all  the  splendor  of  its  gay  equipments,  stood 


around  the  great  entrance  of  the  palace. 
Many  handsome  equipages  were  also  there  ; 
one,  conspicuous  above  the  rest  for  its  livery 
of  white  and  gold,  with  four  outriders,  be- 
longing to  Madame  Murat,  the  Grand  Duch- 
ess of  Berg,  whose  taste  for  splendor  and 
show  extended  to  every  department  of  her 
household. 

At  last  there  was  a  movement  m  those 
nearest  the  palace  ;  the  drums  beat  to  arms, 
the  guard  within  the  vestibule  presented, 
and  the  Emperor  appeared,  followed  by  a 
briiliaiii  staff.  He  stood  for  a  few  second- 
on  the  steps — his  hands  clasped  behind  his 
back;  and  his  head  a  little  bent  forward,  as 
if  in  thought ;  then,  drawing  himself  up, 
he  looked  with  a  gaze  of  proud  composure 
on  the  crowd  that  filled  the  court  of  the 
palace,  and  where  now  all  was  silent  and 
still.  Never  before  had  I  remarked  the 
same  imperious  expression  of  his  features  ; 
but  as  his  eye  ranged  over  the  brilliant  ar- 
ray, now,  I  could  read  the  innate  conscious- 
ness of  superiority  in  which  he  excelled, 
Ney,  Murat,  Victor,  Bessieres — how  little 
seemed  they  all  before  that  mighty  genius, 
whose  glory  they  but  reflected. 

Oh  !  how  lightly  then  did  I  deem  the 
mocking  jests  of  Duchesne,  or  all  that  his 
spirit  of  sarcasm  could  invent.  There  stood 
the  conqueror  of  Italy  and  Egypt — the 
victor  of  Marengo  and  Austerlitz,  looking 
every  inch  a  monarch  and  a  soldier, 
Whether  from  thoughtless  inattention,  or 
studied  affectation,  I  cannot  say,  but  at 
that  moment,  when  all  stood  in  respect  in  1 
silence  before  the  Emperor,  Duchesne  had 
approached  the  grille  of  the  palace,  next  to 
the  Place  du  Carrousel,  and  was  busily 
chatting  with  a  pretty-looking  girl,  who, 
with  a  number  of  others,  sat  in  a  hired 
caleclie.  A  hearty  burst  of  laughter  at 
something  he  said  rang  through  the  court, 
and  turned  every  eye  in  that  direction.  In 
an  instant  the  Emperors  eagle  glance 
pierced  the  distance,  and  fastened  on  the 
chevalier,  who,  seated  carelessly  on  one  side 
of  his  saddle,  paid  no  attention  to  what 
was  going  forward,  when  suddenly  an  aide- 
de-camp  touched  him  on  the  arm,  and  said, 

"Monsieur  le  Capitaine  Duchesne,  his 
I  Majesty  the  Emperor  would  speak  with 
i  you." 

Duchesne  turned  ;  a  faint,  a  very  faint 

i  flush  covered  his  cheek,  and,  putting  spurs 

to  his  horse,  he  galloped  up  to  the  front  of 

the  terrace,  where  the  Emperor  was  stand- 

I  ing.     From  the  distance  at  which  I  stood, 

|  to  hear  what  passed  was  impossible  ;  but  I 

watched  with  a  most  painful  interest  the 

scene  before  me. 

The  Emperor's  attitude  was  unchanged 


488 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


as  the  chevalier  rode  up;  and  when  Du- 
chesne  himself  seemed  to  listen  with  a  re- 
spectful mannertothe  Words  of  his  Majesty, 
I  could  see,  by  his  easy  bearing,  that  his 
self-possession  had  never  deserted  him. 
The  interview  lusted  not  many  minutes, 
when  the  Emperor  waved  his  hand  haught- 
ily, and  the  chevalier,  saluting  with  his 
sabre,  hacked  his  horse  some  paces,  and 
then,  wheeling  round,  rapidly  galloped  to- 
ward the  gate,  through  which  he  passed. 

" This  evening,  then,  mademoiselle," 
said  he,  with  a  smile,  "  I  hope  to  have  the 
honor."  And,  with  a  courteous  bow,  rode 
on  toward  the  archway  opening  on  the 
quay. 

"What  has  happened  ?"  said  I,  eagerly, 
to  the  officer  at  my  side. 

He  shook  his  head,  as  if  doubtful,  and 
half  fearing  even  to  whisper  at  the  mo- 
ment. 

"His  privilege  of  the  elite  is  withdrawn, 
sir,"  said  an  old  general  officer.  "lie 
must  leave  Paris  to  join  his  regiment  in 
twenty-four  hours." 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  muttered  I,  half  aloud, 
when  a  savage  frown  from  the  veteran  offi- 
cer corrected  my  words. 

"What,  sir!"  said  he,  in  a  low  voice, 
wdiere  every  word  was  thickened  to  a  gut- 
tural sound — "what,  sir!  is  the  court  of 
the  Tuileries  no  more  than  a  canteen  or  a 
bivouac?  Pardieu,  if  it  was  not  for  his 
laced  jacket,  he'had  been  degraded  to  the 
ranks — ay,  and  deserved  it  too  !" 

The  coarse  accents  and  underbred  tone 
of  the  speaker  showed  me  at  once  that  it 
was  one  of  the  old  generals  of  the  republi- 
can army,  who  never  could  endure  the  de- 
scendants of  aristocratic  families  in  the  ser- 
vice, and  who  were  too  willing  always  to 
attribute  to  insolence  and  premeditated  af- 
front even  the  slightest  breaches  of  mili- 
tary etiquette.  Meanwhile  the  Emperor 
mounted,  and,  accompanied  by  the  officers 
of  his  staff,  rode  forward  toward  the 
Champs  Ely  sees,  while  all  of  lesser  note 
followed  at  a  distance. 

From  the  garden  of  the  Tuileries  to  the 
Barriere  do  TEtoile  the  troops  were  ranged 
in  four  lines,  the  cavalry  of  the  Guard  and 
the  artillery  forming  the  ranks  along  the 
road  by  which  the  convoy  must  pass.  It 
was  a  bright  day,  with  a  clear,  frosty  at- 
mosphere and  a  blue  sky,  and  well  suited 
the  brilliant  spectacle. 

Scarcely  had  the  Emperor  issued  from 
the  Tuileries,  when  ten  thousand  shouts  of 
"  Vive  V Empereur  !  "  rent  the  air  ;  the 
cannon  of  the  Invalides  thundered  forth  at 
the  same  moment,  and  the  crash  of  the 
military  bands  added  their  clangor  to  the 


.-on nds  of  joy.  Tie  rode  slowly  along  Lno 
line,  stopping  frequently  to  speak  with 
seme  of  the  soldiers,  and  giving  orders  to 
his  suite  concerning  them.  Of  the  offi< 
in  his  stall'  that  day,  the  greater  numbei 
had  been  wounded  at  Austerlitz,  and  still 
bore  the  traces  of  their  injuries.  Rapp 
displayed  a  tremendous  scar  from  a  sal, re 
across  hischeek  ;  Sebastiani  wore  his  sword- 
arm  in  a  sling ;  and  Friant,  unable  to 
mount  his  horse,  followed  the  Emperor  on 
foot,  leaning  on  a  stick,  and  walking  with 
great  difficulty. 

The  sight  of  these  brave  men.  whose  de- 
votion to  Napoleon  had  been  proved  on  so 
many  battle-fields,  added  to  the  interest  of, 
the  scene,  and  tended  to  excite  popular  en- 
thusiasm to  its  utmost  ;  but  on  Napoleon 
still  all  eyes  were  bent.  The  general,  who 
led  their  armies  to  victory — the  monarch, 
who  raised  France  to  the  proudest  place 
among  the  nations,  was  there,  within  a  few 
paces  of  them.  Each  word  he  spoke  was 
sinking  deeply  into  some  heart,  prouder  of 
that  moment  than  of  rank  or  riches. 

So  slow  was  the  Emperor's  progress  along 
the  ranks,   that  it   was  near  three  o'clock 
before  he  had  arrived  at  the  extremity  of 
the  line.     The  cavalry  were  now  ordered 
to  form  in    squadrons,  and   move  past  in 
close   order.      While    this    movement   was 
effecting,  a  cannon  shot  at  the  barriere  an- 
nounced the  approach  of  the  convoy.     The 
cavalry  were  halted  in  line  once  more,  and 
the  same  moment  the  first  wagon  of  the 
train  appeared  above   the  summit  of   the 
hill.     So  secretly  had  the  whole  been  man- 
aged, that  none,  save  the  officers  of   the 
various    staffs,    knew    what    was    coming. 
While  each   look  was  turned,  then,  toward 
the  barriere  in  astonishment,  gradually  the 
wagon  rolled  on,  another  followed,  and  an- 
other.    These  were,  however,  but  the  am- 
j  bulances  of   the   hospitals,    aud   now   the 
wounded  themselves  came  in  sight,  a  white 
flag — that   well-known   signal — waving   in 
I  front  of  each  wagon,  while  a  guard  of  honor, 
i  consisting  of  picked  men  of  the  different 
{ regiments,  rode  at  either  side.     One  loud 
\  cheer — a  shout  echoed  back  from  the  Tui- 
leries itself — rang  out,  as  the  soldiers  saw 
I  their  bra.ve  companions  restored   to  them 
I  once    more.     With    that   impulse   which, 
'even  in  discipline,   French  soldiers  never 
|  forget,    the   men   ruslied   forward    to   the 
wagons,  and  in  a  moment  officers  and  men 
|  were  in  the  arms  of  their  comrades.     What 
j  a  scene  it  was  to  see  the  poor  and  wasted 
I  forms,    mangled    by  shot   and  maimed  of 
limb,  brightening  up  again,  as  home  and 
friends   surrounded    them — to   hear    their 
.  faint  voices  mingle  with  the  questions  for 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


489 


this  one  or  for  that,  while  the  fate  of  some 
brave  fellow  met  but  one  word  in  elegy. 
On  they  passed— a  sad  tram,  but  full  of 
glorious  memories.  There  were  the  gre- 
nadiers of  Oudinot,  who  earned  the  Russian 
center ;  eleven  wagons  were  filled  with 
their  wounded.  Here  come  the  voltigeurs 
of  Bernadotte's  brigade.  See  how  the  fel- 
lows preserve  their  ancient  repute,  cheering 
and  laughing,  ever  the  same,  whether  roy- 
stenng  at  midnight  in  the  Faubourg  St. 
Antoine,  or  rushing  madly  upon  the  ranks 
of  the  enemy.  There  are  the  dragoons  of 
Nansouty,  who  charged  the  Tmperial  Guard 
of  Russia.  See  the  proud  line  that  floats 
on  their  banner,  "Ail  wounded  by  the 
sabre."  And  here  come  the  cuirassiers  of 
the  Guard,  with  a  detachment  of  their 
own,  as  escort.  How  splendidly  they  look 
in  the  bright  sun,  and  how  proudly  they 
come  !  As  I  looked,  the  Emperor  rode  for- 
ward, bare-headed,  his  whole  staff  uncov- 
ered. "  Chapeau  bus,  messieurs!"  said 
he,  in  a  loud  voice.  "  Honor  to  the  brave 
in  misfortune!"  Just  then  the  escort 
halted,  and  I  heard  a  laugh  in  front,  close 
to  where  the  Emperor  was  standing  ;  but, 
from  the  crowded  staff  around  him,  could 
not  see  what  was  ffoino;  forward. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  said  I,  curious  to  learn 
the  least  incident  of  the  scene. 

"Advance  a  pace  or  two,  captain,"  said 
the  young  officer  I  addressed,  "you  can  see 
it  all." 

I  did  so,  and  then  beheld— oh  !  with 
what  delight  and  surprise — my  poor  friend, 
Pioche,  seated  on  the  driving-seat  of  a 
gun,  with  his  hand  in  salute  as  the  Empe- 
ror spoke  to  him. 

"Thou  wilt  not  have  promotion,  nor  a 
pension — what,  then,  can  I  do  for  thee?" 
said  Napoleon,  smiling.  "Hast  any  friend 
in  the  service  whom  I  could  advance  for 
thy  sake  ?  " 

"  Yes,  parbleu  !  "  said  Pioche,  scratching 
his  forehead,  with  a  sort  of  puzzle  and  con- 
fusion even  the  Emperor  smiled  at,  "I 
have  a  friend;  but  mayhap  those  wouldn't 
like—" 

"Ask  me  for  nothing  thou  thmkest  I 
could  not,  ought  not  to  grant,"  said  the 
Emperor,  sternly.      "  What  is't  now  ?" 

The  poor  corporal  seemed  thoroughly 
nonplussed,  and  for  a  second  or  two  could 
not  reply.  At  last,  as  if  summoning  all 
his  courage  for  the  effort,  he  said,  "  Well, 
thou  canst  but  refuse,  and  then  the  fault 
will  be  all  thine  ;  she  is  a  brave  girl,  and 
had  she  been  a  man — " 

"  Whom  can  he  mean  ?"  said  Napoleon. 
"  Is  the  man's  head  wandering  ?  " 

"No,  mon general — all  right  there — that 


shell    has  turned  many  a  edge.     I 

was  talking  of  Mmette,  the  vivandiere  of 
ours.  If  thou  art  so  bent  oh  doing  me  a 
service,  why,  promote  her,  and  thou'lt 
make  the  whole  regimenl  proud  of  it." 

Tins  speech  was  loal  in  the  laugh  which, 
beginning  with  the  Emperor,  extended  to 
I  lie  staff,  and  at  last  to  all  the  bystanders. 

"Dost  wish  I  should  make  her  one  of 
my  aides-de-camp?"  said  Napoleon,  still 
laughing. 

"Parbleu!  thou  hast  more  ill-favored 
ones  among  them,"  said  Pioche,  with  a  sig- 
nificant look  at  the  grim  faces  of  Rapp  and 
Daru,  whose  hard  and  weather-beaten  fea- 
tures never  deigned  a  smile,  while  every 
other  face  was  moved  in  laughter. 

"  But  thou  hast  not  said,  yet,  what  I  am 
to  do,"  rejoined  the  Emperor. 

"  Thou  used  not  to  be  so  hard  to  under- 
stand," grumbled  out  Pioche.  "I  have 
seen  the  time  thou'd  have  said,  'Is  it  Mi- 
nette  that  was  wounded  at  the  Adige  ?— is 
that  the  girl  stood  m  the  square  at  Maren- 
go ?  Parbleu!  I'll  give  her  the  cross  of 
the  Legion  ! ' " 

"And  she  shall  have  it,  Corporal  Pio- 
che," said  Napoleon,  as  he  detached  the 
decoration  he  wore  on  the  breast  of  his 
coat.  "Give  the  order  for  the  vivandiere 
to  advance." 

Scarce  were  the  words  spoken,  when  the 
sound  of  a  horse  pressed  to  his  speed  was 
heard,  and,  mounted  upon  a  small  but 
showy  Arab,  a  present  from  the  regiment, 
Mmette  rode  up.  In  the  bloom  of  health, 
and  flushed  by  exercise  and  the  excitement 
of  the  moment,  I  never  saw  her  look  so 
handsome.  Reining  in  her  horse  short,  as 
she  came  in  front  of  the  Emperor,  the 
animal  reared  up,  almost  straight,  and 
pawed  the  air  with  his  fore-legs,  while  she, 
with  all  the  composure  in  life,  raised  her 
hand  to  her  cap,  and  saluted  the  Emperor 
with  an  action  the  most  easy  and  graceful. 

"Thou  hast  some  yonder,"  said  Pioche, 
with  a  grim  smile  at  the  staff,  "would  be 
sore  puzzled  to  keep  their  saddles  as  well." 

"  Mmette,"  said  the  Emperor,  while  he 
gazed  on  her  handsome  features  with  evi- 
dent pleasure,  "your  name  is  well  known 
to  me  for  many  actions  of  kindness  and 
self-devotion  ;  wear  this  cross  of  the  Le- 
gion of  Honor;  you  will  not  value  it  the 
less  that,  until  now,  it  has  been  only  worn 
by  me.  Whenever  you  find  one  worthy  to 
be  your  husband,  Minette,  I  will  charge 
myself  with  the  dowry." 

"Oh,  sire,'' said  the  trembling  girl,  as 
she  pressed  the  Emperor's  fingers  to  her 
lips—  "oh,  sire,  is  this  real?" 

"Yes,  parbleu!"  said  Pioche,  wiping  a 


490 


CHARLES  LEVE1VS  WORKS. 


large  tear  from  his  eye,  as  he  spoke  ;  "  he 
can  make  thee  he  ;i  man,  and  make  me  feel 
like  a  girl." 

As  Duroc  attached  the  cross  to  the  but- 
ton-hole of  the  vivandiere's  frock,  she  sat 
pale  as  <!  ai  h,  totally  overcome  by  her  sen- 
sations  of  pride,  and  unable  to  say  more 
than,  "Oh,  sire  !  "  which  she  repeated  three 
or  four  times  at  intervals. 

Again  the  procession  moved  on  ;  other 
"wagons  followed  with  their  brave  fellows; 
hut  all  1  lie  interest  of  the  scene  was  now, 
for  me  at  least,  wrapped  up  in  that  one  in- 
cident, and  I  took  but  little  notice  of  the  rest. 

For  full  two  hours  the  cortege  continued 
to  roll  on — wagon  after  wagon,  filled 
with  the  shattered  remnants  of  an  army. 
Yet  such  was  the  indomitable  spirit  of  the 
people— such  the  heartfelt  passion  for 
glory — all  deemed  that  procession  the 
proudest  triumph  of  their  arms.  Nor  was 
this  feeling  confined  to  the  spectators ;  the 
wounded  themselves  leaned  eagerly  over 
the  sides  of  the  charrettes,  to  gaze  into  the 
crowds  on  either  side,  seeking  some  old 
familiar  face,  and  looking,  through  all 
their  sufferings,  proudly  on  the  dense  mob 
beneath  them.  Some  tried  to  cheer,  and 
waved  their  powerless  hands ;  but  others, 
faint  and  heart-sick,  turned  their  glazed 
eyes  toward  the  "Invalides,"  whose  lofty 
dome  appeared  above  the  trees,  as  though 
to  say,  that  was  now  their  resting-place — 
the  only  one  before  the  grave. 

He  who  witnessed  that  day  could  have 
little  doubt  about  the  guiding  spirit  of  the 
French  nation  ;  nor  could  he  distrust  their 
willingness  to  sacrifice  anything — nay,  all 
— to  national  glory. 

Suffering  and  misery — wounds,  ghastly 
and  dreadful,  were  on  every  side,  and  yet 
not  one  word  of  pity,  not  a  look  of  com- 
passion was  there.  These  men  were,  in 
their  eyes,  far  too  highly  placed  for  sym- 
pathy ;  theirs  was  that  path  to  which  all  as- 
pired ;  and  their  trophies  were  their  own 
worn  frames  and  mangled  bodies. 

And  then,  how  they  brightened  up  as  the 
Emperor  would  draw  near — how  even  the 
faintest  would  strive  to  catch  his  eye,  and 
gaze  with  parted  lips  on  him  as  he  spoke, 
as  though  drinking  in  his  very  words — the 
balm  to  their  bruised  hearts;  and  the  faint 
cry  of  "  ISEmpereur !  L'Empereur!" 
passed  like  a  murmur  along  the  line. 

Not  until  the  last  wagon  had  defiled  be- 
fore him  did  the  Emperor  leave  the  ground. 
It  was  then  nearly  dark,  and  already  the 
lamps  were  lighted  along  the  quays,  and 
the  windows  of  the  palace  displayed  the 
brilliant  luster  of  the  preparations  for  a 
grand  dinner  to  the  marshals. 


As  we  moved  slowly  along  in  close  order, 
I  round  myself  among  a  group  of  officers 
of  the  Emperor's  staff,  eagerly  discussing 
the  day  and  its  events. 

"1  am  sorry  for  Duchesne,"  said  one; 
"with  all  his  impertinences — and  he  had 
enough  of  them — he  was  a  brave  fellow, 
and  a  glorious  leader  at  a  moment  of  diffi- 
culty." 

"  Well,  well,  the  Emperor  has,  perhaps, 
forgiven  him  by  this  time;  and  it  is  not 
likely  he  would  mar  the  happiness  of  a  day 
like  this  by  disgracing  an  officer  of  the  elite. 

"  You  are  wrong,  my  friend  ;  his  Majesty 
is  not  sorry  for  the  occasion,  which  can 
prove  that  he  knows  as  well  how  to  punish 
as  to  reward.  Duchesne's  fate  is  sealed. 
You  are  not  old  enough  to  remember,  as  I 
can,  the  morning  at  Louado,  where  the 
same  ordre  du  jour  conferred  a  mark  of 
honor  on  one  brother,  and  condemned 
another  to  be  shot.-" 

"And  was  this,  indeed,  the  case  ?  " 

"Ay,  was  it.  Many  can  tell  you  of  it, 
as  well  as  myself.  They  were  both  in  the 
same  regiment — the  fifteenth  demi-brigade 
of  light  infantry.  They  held  a  chateau, 
at  Salo,  against  the  enemy  for  eight  hours, 
when,  at  length,  the  elder,  who  command- 
ed at  the  front,  capitulated,  and  laid  down 
his  arms  ;  the  younger  refused  to  comply, 
and  continued  the  fight.  They  were  re- 
inforced an  hour  afterward,  and  the  Aus- 
trians  beaten  off.  The  day  after  they  were 
both  tried,  and  the  result  was  as  I  have 
told  you — the  utmost  favor  the  younger 
could  obtain  was,  not  to  witness  the  execu- 
tion of  his  brother." 

As  I  heard  this  story  my  very  blood 
curdled  in  my  veins,  and  I  looked  with  a 
kind  of  dread  on  him  who  now  rode  a  few 
paces  in  front  of  me — the  stern  and  pitiless 
Napoleon. 

At  last  we  entered  the  court  of  the  Tui- 
leries,  when  the  Emperor,  dismissing  his 
staff,  entered  the  palace,  and  we  separated, 
to  follow  our  own  plans  for  the  evening. 
For  a  moment  or  two  I  remained  uncertain 
which  way  to  turn.  I  wished  much  to  see 
Duchesne,  yet  scarcely  hoped  to  meet  with 
him  by  returning  to  the  Luxembourg.  it 
was  not  the  time  to  be  away  from  him,  at  a 
moment  like  this,  and  I  resolved  to  seek 
him  out. 

For  above  an  hour  I  went  from  cafe  to 
cafe,  where  he  was  in  the  habit  of  resort- 
ing, but  to  no  purpose.  He  had  not  been 
seen  in  any  of  them  during  the  day,  so  that 
at  length  I  turned  homeward,  with  the 
faint  hope  that  I  should  see  him  there  on 
my  arrival. 

Somehow,  I  never  had  felt  more  sad  an& 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS. 


491 


depressed  ;  and  the  events  of  the  day,  so 
far  from  making  me  participate  in  the  gen- 
eral joy,  had  left  me  gloomy  and  despond- 
ing. My  spirit  was  little  in  harmony  with 
the  gay  and  merry  groups  that  passed  along 
the  streets,  chanting  their  campaigning 
songs,  and  usually  having  some  old  soldier 
of  the  "  Guard  "  amongst  them  ;  for  they 
felt  it  as  a  fete,  and  were  hurrying  to  the 
''cabarets"  to  celebrate  the  day  of  Auster- 
litz. 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 

"THE    CHEVALIER." 

When"  men  of  high  courage  and  proud 
hearts  meet  with  reverses  in  life,  our  anxie- 
ty is  rather  to  learn  what  new  channel  their 
thoughts  and  exertions  will  take  in  future, 
than  to  hear  how  they  have  borne  up  under 
misfortune.  I  knew  Duchesne  too  well  to 
suppose  that  any  turn  of  fate  would  find 
him  wholly  unprepared  ;  but  still,  a  public 
reprimand,  and  from  the  lips  of  the  Em- 
peror, too,  was  of  a  nature  to  wound  him 
to  the  quick  ;  and  I  could  not  guess,  nor 
picture  to  myself  in  what  way  he  would 
bear  it.  The  loss  of  grade  itself  was  a'thing 
of  consequence,  as  the  service  of  the  "  elite  " 
was  reckoned  a  certain  promotion,  not  to 
speak  of— what  to  him  was  far  more  im- 
portant— the  banishment  from  Paris  and 
its  salons,  to  some  gloomy  and  distant  en- 
campment. In  speculations  like  these  I 
returned  to  my  quarters,  where  I  was  sur- 
prised to  discover  that  the  chevalier  had  not 
been  since  morning.  I  learned  from  his 
servant  that  he  had  dismissed  him,  with  his 
horses,  soon  after  leaving  the  Tuileries, 
and  had  not  returned  home  from  that  time. 

I  dined  alone  that  day,  and  sat  moodily 
by  myself,  thinking  over  the  events  of  the 
morning,  and  wondering  what  had  become 
of  my  friend,  and  watching  every  sound 
that  might  tell  of  his  coming.  It  is  true 
there  were  many  things  I  liked  not  in  Du- 
chesne :  his  cold,  sardonic  spirit,  his  mo- 
queur  temperament,  chilled  and  repelled 
me  ;  but  I  recognized,  even  through  his  own 
efforts  at  concealment,  a  manly  tone  of  in- 
dependence— a  vigorous  reliance  on  self, 
that  raised  him  in  my  esteem,  and  made 
me  regard  him  with  a  certain  species  of  ad- 
miration. With  his  unsettled  or  unstable 
political  opinions,  I  greatly  dreaded  the  ex- 
cess to  which  a  spirit  of  revenge  might  car- 
ry him.  I  knew  that  the  Jacobin  party, 
and  the  Bourbons  themselves,  lay  in  wait 
for  every  erring  member  of  the  Imperial 
side ;    and  I  felt  no  little  anxiety  at  the 


temptations  they  might  hold  out  to  him,  at 
a  moment  when  his  excitement  might 
have  the  mastery  over  his  cooler  judgment. 

Late  in  the  evening,  a  government  mes- 
senger arrived  with  a  large  letter  address  id 
to  him  from  the  minister  of  war  ;  and  even 
this  caused  me  fresh  uneasiness,  since  I  con- 
nected the  dispatch  in  my  mind  with  some 
detail  of  duty,  which  his  absence  might 
leave  unpei  tunned. 

It  was  long  past  midnight,  as  I  sat,  vain- 
ly endeavoring  to  occupy  myself  with  a 
boolc,  which  each  moment  I  laid  down  to 
listen,  Avhen  suddenly  I  heard  the  roll  of  a 
fiacre  in  the  court  beneath,  the  great  doors 
banged  and  closed,  and  the  next  moment 
the  chevalier  entered  the  room. 

He  was  dressed  in  plainclothes,  and  look- 
ed somewhat  paler  than  usual,  but,  though 
evidently  laboring  under  excitement,  af- 
fected his  wonted  ease  and  carelessness  of 
manner,  as,  taking  a  chair  in  front  of  me, 
he  sat  down. 

"What  a  day  of  worry  and  trouble  this 
has  been,  my  dear  friend,"  he  began  : 
"from  the  moment  I  last  saw  you  to  the 
present  one,  I  have  not  rested,  and  with 
four  invitations  to  dinner,  I  have  not  dined 
anywhere." 

He  paused  as  he  said  thus  much,  as  if 
expecting  me  to  say  something  ;  and  I  per- 
ceived that  the  embarrassment  he  felt  rather 
increased  than  otherwise.  I  therefore  en-- 
deavored  to  mumble  out  something  about 
his  hurried  departure,  and  the  annoyance 
of  such  a  sentence,  when  he  stopped  me 
suddenly. 

"Oli,  as  to  that,  I  fancy  the  matter  is 
arranged  already  ;  I  should  have  had  a  let- 
ter from  the  war  office." 

"  Yes  ;  there  is  one  here — it  came  three 
hours  ago." 

He  turned  at  once  to  the  table,  and  break- 
ing the  seal,  perused  the  packet  in  silence, 
then  handed  it  to  me,  as  he  said, 

"  Eead  that,  it  will  save  a  world  of  ex- 
planation." 

It  was  dated  five  o'clock,  and  merely 
contained  the  following  few  words  :     . 

,  "  His  Majesty  I.  and  R.  accepts  the  re- 
signation of  Senior  Captain  Duchesne,  late 
of  the  Imperial  Guard  ;  who,  from  the  date 
of  the  present,  is  no  longer  in  the  service  of 
France. 

(Signed)  "  Berthier, 

"Marshal  of  France." 

A  small  sealed  note  dropped  from  the 
packet,  which  Duchesne  took  up,  and  broke 
ojjen  with  eagerness. 

"  Ha  !  parbleu  !  "  cried  he,  with  energy  ; 


ifr 


492 


( 'If. !  R  L  ES   L  E  VERS  WORKS. 


"I  thought  not;    sec  hen',    Burke — it   is 
Duroc  who  writes  : 

'•My  Dear  Duchesne,— I  knew  there 
was  no  use  in  making  such  a  proposition, 
and  told  you  as  much.  The  moment  I 
said  the  word  *  England,'  he  shouted  out 
'No!'  in  such  a  tone,  you  might  have 
heard  it  at  the  Luxembourg.  You  will 
perceive,  then,  the  thing  is  impracticable; 
and  perhaps,  after  all,  for  your  own  sake, 
it  is  better  it  should  be  so.  —  Yours  ever. 

"D." 

"  This  is  all  mystery  to  me,  Duchesne; 
I  cannot  fathom  it  in  the  least." 

"  Let  me  assist  you — a  few  words  will  do 
it.  I  gave  in  my  demission  as  Captain  of 
the  Guard,  which,  as  you  see,  his  Majesty 
has  accepted  :  we  shall  leave  it  to  the  Mcn- 
iteur  of  to-morrow  to  announce  whether 
graciously  or  not.  I  also  addressed  a  for- 
mal letter  to  Duroc,  to  ask  the  Emperor's 
permission  to  visit  England,  on  private 
business  of  my  own."  His  eyes  sparkled 
with  a  malignant  luster  as  he  said  these 
last  words,  and  his  cheek  grew  deep  scarlet. 
"  This,  however,  his  Majesty  has  not  grant- 
ed, doubtless  from  private  reasons  of  his 
own,  and  thus  we  stand.  Which  of  us, 
think  you,  has  most  spoiled  the  other's  rest 
for  this  night  ?" 

v"  But  still  I  do  not  comprehend.  What 
can  take  you  to  England  ?  You  have  no 
friends  there — you've  never  been  in  that 
country." 

"  Do  you  not  know  the  very  word  is  pro- 
scribed—that the  island  is  covered  from  his 
eyes  in  the  map  he  looks  upon — t\vAt  per - 
fide  Albion  is  the  demon  that  haunts  his 
dark  hours,  and  menaces,  with  threatening 
gesture,  the  downfall  of  all  his  present 
glory  ?  Ah  !  by  St.  Denis  !  boy,  had  I 
been  you,  it  is  not  such  an  epaulette  as  this 
I  had  worn." 

"Enough,  Duchesne;  I  will  not  hear 
more.  Not  to  you,  nor  any  one,  am  I  an- 
swerable for  the  reasons  that  have  guided 
my  conduct  ;  nor  had  I  listened  to  so  much, 
save  that  such  excitement  as  yours  may 
make  that  pardonable  which,  in  calmer  mo- 
ments, is  not  so." 

"  You  say  right,  Burke,"  said  he  quick- 
ly, and  with  more  seriousness  of  manner ; 
"  it  is  seldom  I  have  been  betrayed  into  such 
a  passionate  warmth  as  this  ;  I  hope  I  have 
not  offended  you.  This  change  of  circum- 
stance will  make  none  in  our  friendship.  I 
knew  it,  my  dear  boy.  And  now  let  us  turn 
from  such  tiresome  topics.  Where  think 
rou  I  have  been  spending  the  evening  ?  But 
now  could  you  ever  guess  ?    Well,  at  the 


'Odeon,'  attending  Mademoiselle  Pierrot, 
and  a  very  pretty  friend  of  hers — one  of  our 
vivandieres,  who  happens  to  be  in  the  bri- 
gade with  mademoiselle's  brother,  and 
dined  there  to-day.  She  only  arrived  in 
Paris  this  morning;  and,  by  Jove!  there 
are  some  handsome  faces  in  our  gay  salons 
would  scarcely  stand  the  rivalry  with  hers. 
I  must  show  you  the  fair  Minette." 

"  Minette  !"  stammered  I,  while  a  sickly 
sensation,  a  fear  of  some  unknown  misfor- 
tune to  the  poor  girl,  almost  stopped  my 
utterance.  "  1  know  her — she  belongs  to 
the  Fourth  Cuirassiers." 

"Ah,  you  know  her  ?  Who  would  have 
suspected  my  quiet  friend  of  such  an  ac- 
quaintance ?  And  so,  you  never  hinted 
this  to  me.  Mafoi,  I'd  have  thought  twice 
about  throwing  up  my  commission  if  1  had 
seen  her  half  an  hour  earlier.  Come,  tell 
me  all  you  know  of  her — where  does  she 
come  from  ?  " 

"  Of  her  history  I  am  totally  ignorant  ; 
I  can  only  tell  you  that  her  character  is 
without  a  stain  or  reproach,  in  circum- 
stances where  few,  if- any,  save  herself,  ever 
walked  seathless.  That  on  more  than  one 
occasion  she  has  displayed  heroism  worthy 
of  the  best  among  us." 

"  Oh  dear,  oh  dear,  how  disappointed  I 
am  ;  indeed,  I  half  feared  as  much  :  she  is 
a  regular  vivandiere  of  the  melodrama — 
virtuous,  high-minded, and  intrepid.  You, 
of  course,  believe  all  this — don't  be  angry, 
Burke — but  I  don't,  and  the  reason  is,  I 
can't — the  gods  have  made  me  incredulous 
from  the  cradle.  I  have  a  rooted  obstinacy 
about  me,  perfectly  irreclaimable  ;  thus,  I 
fancy  Napoleon  to  beaCorsican — a  modern 
marshal  to  be  a  promoted  sergeant — a  judge 
of  the  upper  court  to  be  a  public  prosecu- 
tor— and  a  vivandiere  of  the  grande  armee 
— But,  I'll  not  offend,  don't  be  afraid,  my 
poor  fellow,  even  at  the  risk  of  the  rivalry. 
Upon  my  life,  I'm  glad  to  see  you  have  a 
heart  susceptible  of  any  little  tenderness  ; 
but  you  cannot  blame  me  if  I'm  weary  of 
this  eternal  travestie  of  character  Avhich 
goes  on  amongst  us.  Why  will  our  repub- 
lican and  sans  culotte  friends  try  courtly 
airs  and  graces,  while  our  real  aristocracy 
stoop  to  the  affected  coarseness  of  the  ca- 
naille ?  Is  it  possible  that  they  who  wish 
to  found  a  new  order  of  things  clo  not  see 
that  all  these  pantomime  costumes  and  cha- 
racters denote  nothing  but  change — that  we 
are  only  performing  a  comedy  after  all  ?  I 
scarcely  expect  it  will  be  a  five-act  one ;  and, 
apropos  of  comedies,  when  shall  we  pay 
our  respects  to  Madame  de  Lacostellerie  ? 
It  will  require  all  my  diplomacy  to  keep  my 
ground  there,  under  my  recent  misfortune 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


493 


Nothing  short  of  a  tender  inquiry  from  the 
Duchesse  de  Montserrat  will  open  the 
doors  for  me.  Alas,  and  alas  !  I  suppose 
I  shall  have  to  fall  back  on  the  Faubourg." 

"But  is  the  step  irrevocable,  Duchesne  ? 
Can  you  really  bring  yourself  to  forego  a 
career  which  opened  with  such  promise  ?  " 

"And  terminated  with  such  disgrace," 
added  he,  smiling  placidly. 

"Nay,  nay — don't  affect  to  take  it  thus  ; 
your  services  would  have  placed  you  high, 
and  won  for  you  honors  and  rank." 

'•'And,  mafoi,  have  they  not  done  so  ? 
Am  I  not  a  very  interesting  individual  at 
this  moment — more  so  than  at  any  other  of 
my  life  ?  Are  not  half  the  powdered  heads 
of  the  Faubourg  plotting  over  my  downfall, 
and  wondering  how  they  are  to  secure  me 
to  the  '  true  cause  ?  '  Are  not  the  hot  heads 
of  the  Jacobites  speculating  on  my  admis- 
sion, by  a  unanimous  vote,  into  their  order? 
And  has  not  Fouche  gone  to  the  special  ex- 
pense of  a  new  police  spy,  solely  destined  to 
dine  at  the  same  cafe,  play  at  the  same 
salon,  and  sit  in  the  same  box  of  the  Opera 
with  me  ?  Is  this  nothing  ?  Well,  it  will 
be  good  fun  after  all  to  set  their  wise  brains 
on  the  wrong  track,  not  to  speak  of  the 
happiness  of  weeding  one's  acquaintance, 
which  a  little  turn  of  fortune  al ways  effects 
so  instantaneously." 

"  One  would  suppose  from  your  manner, 
Duchesne,  that  some  unlooked-for  piece  of 
good  luck  had  befallen  you  ;  this  event 
seems  to  have  been  the  crowning  one  of 
your  life." 

"Am  I  not  at  liberty,  boy  ?  Have  I  not 
thrown  the  slavery  behind  me  ?  Is  that 
nothing  ?  You  may  fancy  }Tour  collar,  be- 
cause there  is  some  gold  upon  it  ;  but, 
trust  me,  it  galls  the  neck  as  cursedly  as 
the  veriest  brass.  Come,  Burke,  I  must 
have  a  glass  of  champagne,  and  you  must 
pledge  me  in  a  creaming  bumper.  If  you 
don't  join  in  the  sentiment  now,  the  time 
will  come  later  on — we  may  be  many  a  mile 
apart — ay,  perhaps  a  whole  world  will  di- 
vide us ;  but  you'll  remember  my  toast — 
'  To  him  that  is  free.'  I  am  sick  of  most 
things — women,  wine,  war,  play — the  game 
of  life  itself,  with  all  its  dashing  and  ex- 
citing interests — I  have  had  them  to  satie- 
ty ;  but  liberty  has  its  charm — even  to  the 
palsied  arm  and  the  withered  hand  freedom 
is  dear,  and  why  not  to  him  who  yet  can 
strike  ?  " 

His  eyes  flashed  fire  as  he  spoke,  and  he 
drained  glass  after  glass  of  wine,  without 
seeming  aware  of  what  he  Avas  doing. 

"  If  you  felt  thus,  Duchesne,  why  have 
you  remained  so  long  a  soldier  ?" 

"  I'll  tell  you.     He  who  travels  unwil- 


lingly along  some  dreary  path  stops  often 
as  he  goes,  and  looks  around  to  see  if,  in 
the  sky  above  or  the  road  beneath,  some 
obstacle  may  not  cross  his  way,  and  bid 
hi  in  turn.  The  faintest  sound  of  a  brew- 
ing storm,  the  darkening  shadow  of  a  cloud, 
a  swollen  rivulet,  is  enough,  and  straight- 
way he  yields  :  so  men  seem  swayed  in 
life  by  trifles  which  never  moved  them,  by 
accidents  which  came  not  near  their  hearts. 
These,  which  the  world  called  their  disap- 
pointments, were  often  but  the  pivots  of 
their  fortune.  I  have  had  enough,  nay. 
more  than  enough,  of  all  this.  You  must 
not  ask  the  hackneyed  actor  of  the  melo- 
drama to  start  at  the  blue  lights,  and  feel 
real  fear  at  burning  forests  and  flaming 
chateaux  ;  this  mock  passion  of  the  Em- 
peror— " 

"  Come,  my  friend,  that  is  indeed  too 
much  ;  unquestionably  there  was  no  feign- 
ing there." 

Duchesne  gave  a  bitter  laugh,  and  laying 
his  hand  on  my  arm,  said, 

"My  good  boy,  I  know  him  Avell  ;  the 
knowledge  has  cost  me  something — but  I 
have«it.  A  soldier's  enthusiasm!"  said 
he,  in  irony;  "bah  !  Shall  I  tell  you  a 
little  incident  of  my  boyhood  ?  I  detest 
story-telling,  but  this  you  must  hear.  Fill 
my  glass — listen,  and  I  promise  you  not  to 
be  lengthy." 

It  was  the  first  time  in  our  intimacy  in 
which  Duchesne  referred  distinctly  to  his 
past  life  ;  and  I  willingly  accepted  the  offer 
he  made,  anticipating  that  any  incident, 
no  matter  how  trivial,  might  throw  a  light 
on  the  strange  contrarieties  of  his  charac- 
ter. 

He  sat  for  several  minutes  silent — his 
eyes  turned  toward  the  ground,  a  faint 
smile — more  of  sadness  than  aught  else — 
played  about  his  lips,  as  he  muttered  to 
himself  some  words  I  could  not  catch  ; 
then  rallying,  with  a  slight  effort,  he  began 
thus —  'But,  short  as  his  tale  was,  we  must 
give  him  a  chapter  to  himself. 


CHAPTER  LIX. 


A.    BOYISH    REMINISCENCE. 


"I  believe  I  have  already  told  you, 
Burke,  that  my  family  were  most  of  them 
Eoyalists.  Such  as  were  engaged  in  trade 
followed  the  fortunes  of  the  day,  and  cried 
1  Vive  la  RipuUique  ! '  like  their  neighbors. 
Some  deemed  it  better  to  emigrate,  and 
wait  in  a  foreign  land  for  the  happy  hour 
of  returning  to  their  own — a  circumstance, 


494 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


by  the  way,  which  must  have  tried  their 
patience  ere  this  ;  and  a  few,  trusting'  to 
their  obscure  position,  living  in  out-of-the- 
way,  remote  spots,  supposed  that  in  the 
general  uproar  they  might  escape  unde- 
tected; and,  with  one  or  two  exceptions, 
they  were  right.  Among  these  latter  was 
an  unmarried  brother  of  my  mother,  who 
having  held  a  military  command  for  a  great 
many  years  in  the  lie  de  Bourbon,  retired 
to  spend  the  remainder  of  his  days  in  a 
small  but  beautiful  chateau  on  the  sea-side, 
about  three  leagues  from  Marseilles.  The 
old  viscount  (we  continued  to  call  him  so 
among  ourselves,  though  the  use  of  titles 
was  proscribed  long  before)  had  met  with 
some  disappointment  in  love  in  early  life, 
which  had  prevented  his  ever  marrying, 
and  turned  all  his  affections  toward  the 
children  of  his  brothers  and  sisters,  who 
invariably  passed  a  couple  of  months  of 
each  summer  with  him,  arriving  from  dif- 
ferent parts  of  France  for  the  purpose. 
And  truly  it  was  a  strange  sight  to  see  the 
mixture  of  look,  expression,  accent,  and 
costume,  that  came  to  the  rendezvous  :  the 
long- featured  boy,  with  blue  eyes"  and 
pointed  chin — cofd,  wary,  and  suspicious — 
brave,  but  cautious,  that  came  from  Nor- 
mandy ;  the  high-spirited,  reckless  youth, 
from  Brittany  ;  the  dark-eyed  girl  of  Pro- 
vence ;  the  quick-tempered,  warm-hearted 
Gascon  ;  and,  stranger  than  all,  from  his 
contrast  to  the  rest,  the  little  Parisian, 
with  his  airs  of  the  capital,  and  his  con- 
tempt for  his  rustic  brethren,  nothing 
daunted  that  in  all  their  boyish  exercises 
he  found  himself  so  much  their  inferior. 
Our  dear  old  uncle  loved  nothing  so  well  as 
to  have  us  around  him,  and  even  the  little 
ones,  of  five  and  six  years  old,  when  not 
living  too  far  off,  were  brought  to  these 
reunions,  which  were  to  us  the  great  events 
of  each  year  of  our  lives. 

"  It,  was  in  the  June  of  the  year  1794 — 
I  shall  not  easily  forget  the  date — that  we 
were  all  assembled  as  usual  at  'LeLuc. ' 
Our  party  was  reinforced  by  some  three  or 
four  new  visitors,  among  whom  was  a  little 
girl  of  about  twelve  years  old,  Annette  de 
Noailles,  the  prettiest  creature  I  ever  be- 
held. Every  land  has  its  own  trait  of  birth 
distinctly  marked.  I  don't  know  whether 
you  have  observed  that  the  brow  and  the 
forehead  are  more  indicative  of  class  m 
Frenchmen  than  any  other  portion  of  the 
face  ;  hers  was  perfect,  and,  though  a  mere 
child,  conveyed  an  impression  of  tempered 
decision  and  mildness  that  was  most  fasci- 
nating ;  the  character  of  her  features  was 
thoughtful,  and,  were  it  not  for  a  certain 
vivacity  in  the  eyes,  would  have  been  even 


sad.  Forgive  me,  if  I  dwell — when  I  need 
not — on  these  traits  :  she  is  no  more.  Her 
father  carried  her  with  him  in  his  exile, 
and  your  lowering  skies  and  gloomy  air  soon 
laid  her  low.  Annette  was  the  child  of 
royalist  parents.  both  her  father  and 
mother  had  occupied  places  in  the  royal 
household  ;  and  she  was  accustomed  from 
her  earliest  infancy  to  hear  the  praise  of 
the  Bourbons  from  lips  which  trembled 
when  they  spoke.  Poor  child  !  how  well 
do  I  remember  her  little  prayer  for  the 
martyred  saint — for  so  they  styled  the  mur- 
dered king — which  she  never  missed  saying 
each  morning,  when  the  mas?  was  over  in 
the  chapel  of  the  chateau.  It  is  a  curious 
fact,  tlrat  the  girls  of  a  family  were  fre- 
quently attached  to  the  fortunes  of  the 
Bourbons,  while  the  boys  declared  for  the 
revolution  ;  and  these  differences  penetra- 
ted into  the  very  core,  and  sapped  the  hap- 
piness of  many  whose  affection  had  stood 
the  test  of  every  misfortune,  save  the  up- 
rooting torrent  of  anarchy  that  poured  in 
with  the  revolution.  These  party  differ- 
ences entered  into  all  the  little  quarrels  of 
the  school-room  and  the  nursery  ;  and  the 
taunting  epithets  of  either  side  were  used 
in  angry  passion  by  .those  who  neither 
guessed  nor  could  understand  their  mean- 
ing. Need  it  be  wondered  if,  in  after  life, 
I  these  opinions  took  the  tone  of  intense  con- 
victions, when  even  thus  in  infancy  they 
were  nurtured  and  fostered  ?  Our  little 
circle  at  Le  Luc  was,  indeed,  wonderfully 
free  from  such  causes  of  contention  ;  what- 
ever paths  m  life  fate  had  in  store  for  us 
afterward,  then,  at  least,  we  were  of  one 
mind.  A  few  of  the  boys,  it  is  true,  were 
struck  by  the  successes  of  those  great  armies 
the  revolution  poured  over  Europe;  but 
even  they  were  half  ashamed  to  confess  en- 
thusiasm m  a  cause  so  constantly  allied  in 
their  memory  with  everything  mean  and 
low-lived.  Such,  in  a  few  words,  was  the 
little  party  assembled  around  the  supper- 
table  of  the  chateau,  on  one  lovely  evening 
in  June.  The  windows,  opening  to  the 
ground,  let  in  the  perfumed  air  from  many 
a  sweet  and  flowery  shrub  without,  while 
already  the  nightingale  had  begun  her  lay 
m  the  deep  grove  hard  by.  The  evening 
was  so  calm,  we  could  hear  the  plash  of  the 
making  tide  upon  the  shore,  and  the  mi- 
nute peals  of  the  waves  smote  on  the  ear 
with  a  soft  and  melancholy  cadence  that 
made  us  silent  and  thoughtful.  As  we  sat 
for  some  minutes  thus,  we  suddenly  heard 
the  sound  of  feet  coming  up  the  little  gravel 
walk  toward  the  chateau,  and,  on  going  to 
the  window,  perceived  three  men  in  uni- 
form  leading   their    horses  slowly   along. 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS. 


495 


The  dusky  light  prevented  oar  being  able 
to  distinguish  their  rank  or  condition  ;  but 
my  uncle,  whose  fears  were  easily  excited 
by  such  visitors,  at  once  hastened  to  the 
door  to  receive  them. 

"  His  absence  was  not  of  many  minutes' 
duration,  but  even  now  I  can  remember  the 
strange  sensations  of  dread,  that  rendered 
us  all  speechless,  as  we  stood  looking  to- 
ward the  door  by  which  he  was  to  enter. 
He  came  at  last,  and  was  followed  by  two 
officers,  one,  the  elder,  and  the  superior 
evidently,  was  a  thin,  slight  man,  of  about 
thirty,  with  a  pale  but  stern  countenance, 
in  which  a  certain  haughty  expression  pre- 
dominated ;  the  other  was  a  fine,  soldier- 
like, frank-looking  fellow,  who  saluted  us 
all  as  he  came  in  with  a  smile  and  a  pleas- 
ant gesture  of  his  hand. 

"  '  You  may  leave  us,  children,'  said  my 
uncle,  as  he  proceeded  toward  the  bell. 

"'Yon  were  at  supper,  if  I  mistake 
not  ?  '  said  the  elder  of  the  two  officers, 
with  a  degree  of  courtesy  in  his  tone  I 
scarcely  expected. 

"  '  Yes,  general.   But  my  little  friends — ' 

"  '  Will,  I  hope,  share  with  us,'  said  the 
General,  interrupting  ;  '  and  I  at  least  am 
determined,  with  your  permission,  that 
they  shall  remain.  It  is  quite  enough  that 
we  enjoy  the  hospitality  of  your  chateau 
for  the  night,  without  interfering  with  the 
happiness  of  its  inmates  ;  and  1  beg  that 
we  may  give  you  as  little  inconvenience  as 
possible  in  providing  for  our  accommoda- 
tion.' 

"  '  Though  these  words  were  spoken  with 
an  easy  and  a  kindly  tone,  there  was  a 
cold,  distant  manner  in  the  speaker  that 
chilled  us  all,  and,  while  we  drew  over  to  the 
table  again,  it  was  in  silence  and  con- 
straint. Indeed,  our  poor  uncle  looked 
the  very  picture  of  dismay,  endeavoring 
to  do  the  honors  to  his  guests,  and  seem 
at  ease,  while  it  was  clear  his  fears  were 
ever  uppermost  in  his  mind. 

"  The  aide-de-camp — for  such  the  young 
officer  was — looked  like  one  who  could 
have  been  agreeable  and  amusing,  if  the 
restraint  of  the  general's  presence  was  not' 
over  him.  As  it  was,  he  spoke  in  a  low, 
subdued  voice,  and  seemed  in  great  awe  of 
his  superior. 

"Unlike  our  usual  ones,  the  meal  was 
eaten  in  a  mournful  stillness,  the  very 
youngest  amongst  us  feeling  the  presence 
of  the  stranger  as  a  thing  of  gloom  and 
sadness. 

"Supper  over,  my  uncle,  perhaps  hop- 
ing to  relieve  the  embarrassment  he  la- 
bored under,  asked  permission  of  the  gene- 
ral for  us  to  remain,  saying  : 


"  '  My  little  people,  sir,  are  great  novel- 
ists, and  they  ususally  amuse  me  of  an 
evening  by  their  stories.  Will  this  be  too 
great  an  endurance  for  you  ? ' 

"'By  no  means,'  said  the  General, 
gayly  ;  'there's  nothing  I  like  better;  I 
hope  they  will  admit  me  as  one  of  the 
party.  I  have  something  of  a  gift  that 
way  myself.' 

"The  circle  was  soon  formed,  the  gen- 
eral and  his  aide-de-camp  making  part  of 
it  ;  but,  though  they  both  exerted  them- 
selves to  the  utmost  to  win  our  confidence, 
I  know  not  why  or  wherefore,  we  could 
not  shake  off  the  gloom  we  had  felt  at 
first,  but  sat  awkward  and  ill  at  ease,  una- 
ble to  utter  a  word,  and  even  ashamed  to 
look  at  each  other. 

"'Come,'  said  the  General,  '  I  see  how 
it  is  ;  I  have  broken  in  upon  a  very  happy 
party  ;  I  must  make  the  only  amende  in  my 
power;  I  shall  be  the  story-teller  for  tin's 
evening.'  As  he  said  this,  he  looked  around 
the  little  circle,  and,  by  some  seeming 
magic  of  his  own,  in  an  instant  he  had  won 
us  every  one.  We  drew  our  chairs  closer 
toward  him,  and  listened  eagerly  for  his 
tale.  Few  people,  save  such  as  live  much 
among  children,  or  take  the  trouble  to  study 
their  tone  of  feeling  and  thinking,  are 
aware  how  far  reality  surpasses  in  interest 
the  force  of  mere  fiction.  The  fact  is  with 
them  far  more  than  all  the  art  of  the  nar- 
rative, and  if  you  cannot  say  '  this  was 
true,'  more  than  half  of  the  pleasure  your 
story  confers  is  lost  forever.  Whether  the 
general  knew  this,  or  that  his  memory  sup- 
plied him  more  easily  than  his  imagination, 
I  cannot  say  ;  but  his  tale  was  a  little 
incident  of  the  siege  of  Toulon,  where  a 
drummer-boy  was  killed,  having  returned 
to  the  breach,  after  the  attack  was  repulsed, 
to  seek  for  a  little  cockade  of  ribbon  his 
mother  had  fastened  on  his  cap  that  morn- 
ing. Simple  as  was  the  story,  he  told  it 
with  a  subdued  and  tender  pathos  that  made 
our  hearts  thrill  and  filled  every  eye  around 
him.  '  It  was  a  poor  thing,  it's  true,'  said 
he,  '  that  knot  of  ribbon,  but  it  was  glory 
to  him  to  rescue  it  from  the  enemy  ;  his 
heart  was  on  the  time  when  he  should  show 
it,  bloodstained  and  torn,  and  say,  "  I  took 
it  from  the  ground  amid  the  grape-shot  and 
the  musketry.  I  was  the  only  living  thing 
there  that  moment,  and  see,  I  bore  it  away 
triumphantly."1  As  the  general  spoke,  he 
unbuttoned  the  breast  of  his  uniform,  and 
took  forth  a  small  piece  of  crumpled  ribbon, 
fastened  in  the  shape  of  a  cockade.  'Here 
it  is,'  .said  he,  holding  it  up  before  our  eyes  ; 
'it  was  for  this  he  died.'  We  could  scarce 
see  it  through  our  tears.  Poor  Annette  held 


49G 


CHA  R  L  ES   L  E  VER'S  WORKS. 


her  hands  upon  her  face,  and  sobbed  vio- 
lently. 'Keep  it,  my  sweet  child/  said  the 
General,  as  he  attached  the  cockade  to  her 
shoulder;  'it  is  a  glorious  emblem,  and 
well  worthy  to  be  worn  by  one  so  pure  and 
so  fair  as. you  are.' 

"Annette  looked  up,  and  as  she  did,  her 
eves  fell  upon  the  tricolor  that  hung  from 
her  shoulder — the  hated,  the  despised  tri- 
color— the  badgeof  that  party  whose  cruelty 
she  had  thought  of  by  day  and  dreamed  of 
by  night.  She  turned  deadly  pale,  and  sat, 
with  lips  compressed  and  clenched  hands, 
unable  to  speak  or  stir. 

"  '  What  is  it ;  are  you  ill,  child  ?'  said 
the  General,  suddenly. 

"  'Annette,  love — Annette,  dearest,'  said 
my  uncle,  trembling  with  anxiety,  'speak. 
What  is  the  matter  ? ' 

"  '  It  is  that,'  cried  I,  fiercely,  pointing 
to  the  knot,  on  which  her  eyes  were  bent 
with  a  shrinking  horror  I  well  knew  the 
meaning  of — '  it  is  that ! ' 

"  The  general  bent  on  me  a  look  of  pas- 
sionate meaning  as,  with  a  hissing  tone,  he 
said,  '  Do  you  mean  this  ? ' 

"'Yes,'  said  I,  tearing  it  away,  and 
trampling  it  beneath  my  feet — '  yes,  it  is 
not  a  Noailles  can  wear  the  badge  of  in- 
famy and  crime  ;  the  blood-stained  tricolor 
can  find  slight  favor  here.' 

"  '  Hush,  boy — hush,  for  Heaven's  sake  ;' 
cried  my  uncle,  trembling  with  fear. 

"The  caution  came  too  late.  The  gen- 
eral, taking  a  note-book  from  his  pocket, 
opened  it  leisurely,  and  then  turning  to- 
ward the  vicomte,  said  :  '  This  youth's 
name  is — ' 

"  '  Duchesne  ;  Henri  Duchesne  ! ' 

"  '  And  his  age  ?  ' 

"  'Fourteen  in  March, 'replied  my  uncle, 
as  his  eyes  filled  up  ;  while  he  added,  in  a 
half  whisper,  '  if  you  mean  the  conscrip- 
tion, general,  be  lias  already  supplied  a 
substitute.' 

"No  matter,  sir,  if  he  had  sent  twenty; 
such  defect  of  education  as  his  needs  cor- 
rection ;  he  shall  join  the  levies  at  Toulon 
in  three  days — in  three  days,  mark  me  ! 
Depend  upon  it,  sir,'  said  he,  turning  to 
me,  'you  shall  learn  a  lesson  beneath  that 
tricolor  you'll  be  somewhat  long  in  for- 
getting. Dumolle,  look  to  this.'  With 
this  direction  to  his  aide-de-camp  he  arose, 
•and,  before  my  poor  unhappy  uncle  could 
recover  his  self-possession  to  reply,  had  left 
the  room. 

"  '  He  will  not  do  this,  sir — surely,he  will 
not,'  said  the  vicomte  to  the   young  officer. 

"  '  General  Bonaparte  does  not  relent, 
sir,  and  if  he  did,  he'd  never  show  it,'  was 
the  cold  .reply. 


"  That  day  week  I  carried  a  musket  on  the 
ramparts  of  Toulon.  Here  began  a  career 
1  have  followed  ever  since — with  how  much 
of  enthusiasm  1  leave  you  to  judge  for 
yourself.'" 

As  Duchesne  concluded  this  little  story 
he  arose,  and  paced  the  room  backward 
and  forward  with  rapid  steps,  while  his 
compressed  lips  and  knitted  brow  showed 
he  was  lost  in  gloomy  recollections  of  the 
past. 

"  He  was  right,  after  all,  Burke,"  said 
he,  at  length  ;  "  personal  honor  will  make 
the  soldier,  conviction  may  make  the 
patriot.  I  fought  as  stoutly  for  this  same 
cause  as  though  I  did  not  loathe  it !  how 
many  others  may  be  in  the  same  position  ? 
You  yourself,  perhaps." 

"No,  no  ;  not  I." 

"Well,  be  it  so,"  rejoined  he,  carelessly. 
"Good-night."  And  with  that  he  strolled 
negligently  from  the  room,  and  I  heard 
him  humming  a  tune  as  he  mounted  the 
stairs  toward  his  bedroom. 


CHAPTER  LX. 


A   GOOD-BY. 


"I  have  come  to  bring  you  a  card  foi 
the  Court  ball,  capitaine,"  said  General 
Da.ru,  as  he  opened  the  door  of  my  dress- 
ing-room the  following  morning.  "  See 
what  a  number  of  them  I  have  here  ;  but 
except  your  own  the  addresses  are  not  filled 
up.  You  are  m  favor  at  the  Tuileries,  it 
would  seem." 

"I  was  not  aware  of  my  good  fortune. 
General,"  replied  I. 

"Be  assured,  however,  it  is  such,"  said 
he.  "  These  things  are  not,  as  so  many 
deem  them,  mere  matters  of  chance. 
Every  name  is  well  weighed  and  conned 
over.  The  officers  of  the  household  serve 
one  who  does  not  forgive  mistakes.  And 
now  that  I  think  of  it,  you  were  intimate — 
very  intimate,  I  believe — with  Duchesne  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  we  were  much  together." 

"Well,  then,  after  what  has  occurred, 
I  need  scarcely  say  your  acquaintance  with 
him  had  better  cease.  There  is  no  middle 
course  in  these  matters.  Circumstances 
will  not  bring  you,  as  formerly,  into  each 
other's  company  ;  and  to  continue  your 
intimacy  would  be  offensive  to  his  Majes- 
ty." 

"  But  surely,  sir,  the  friendship  of  per- 
sons so  humble  as  we  are  can  neither  be  a 
subject  for  the  Emperor's  satisfaction  nor 
displeasure,  if  he  even  were  to  know  of  it." 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


497 


"You  must  take  my  word  for  that,"  re- 
plied the  General,  somewhat  sternly. 
"  The  counsel  1  have  given  to-day  may 
come  as  a  command  to-morrow,  The 
Chevalier  Duchesne  has  given  his  Majesty 
great  and  grave  offense — see  that  you  arc 
not  led  to  follow  his  example."  With  a 
marked  emphasis  on  the  last  few  words, 
and  with  a  cold  bow,  he  left  the  room. 

"That  I  am  not  led  to  follow  his  ex- 
ample !"  said  I,  repeating  them  over  slow- 
ly to  myself.  "Is  that,  then,  the  danger 
of  which  he  would  warn  me  ?" 

The  remembrance  of  the  misfortunes 
which  opened  my  career  in  life  came  full 
before  me — the  unhappy  acquaintance  with 
De  Beauvais,  and  the  long  train  of  suspi- 
cious circumstances  that  followed  ;  and  I 
shuddered  at  the  bare  thought  of  being 
again  involved  m  apparent  criminality. 
And  yet,  what  a  state  of  slavery  was  this  ! 
The  thought  flashed  suddenly  across  my 
mind,  and  1  exclaimed  aloud,  "And  this 
is  the  liberty  for  which  1  have  periled  life 
and  limb  ;  this  the  cause  for  which  I  have 
become  an  alien  and  an  exile  ! " 

"Most  true,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Du- 
chesne, gayly,  as  he  slipped  into  the  room, 
and  drew  his  chair  toward  the  fire.  "A 
wise  reflection — but  most  unwisely  spoken  ; 
but  there  are  men  nothing  can  teach — not 
even  the  •  Temple,'  nor  the  '  Palais  de  Jus- 
tice.'" 

"  How,  then — you  know  of  my  unhappy 
imprisonment  ?  " 

"  Know  of  it  !  To  be  sure  I  do.  Bless 
your  sweet  innocence  !  I  have  been  told, 
a  hundred  times  over,  to  make  overtures  to 
you  from  the  Faubourg.  There  are  at 
least  a  dozen  -old  ladies  there  who  believe 
firmly  you  are  a  true  Legitimist,  and  wear 
the  white  cockade  next  your  heart.  I 
have  had,  over  and  over,  the  most  tempting 
offers  to  make  you.  Faith,  I'm  not  quite 
certain  if  we  are  not  believed  to  be,  at  this 
very  moment,  concocting  how  to  smuggle 
over  the  frontier  a  brass  carronadc  and  a 
royal  livery,  two  pounds  of  gunpowder  and 
a  court  periwig,  to  restore  the  Bourbons  !  " 
He  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughing  as  he  con- 
eluded,  and  however  little  disposed  to 
mirth  at  the  moment,  I  could  not  refrain 
from  joining  in  the  emotion. 

"But  now  for  a  moment  of  serious  consid- 
eration, Burke  ;  for  lean  be  serious  at  times, 
at  least  when  my  friends  are-  concerned. 
You  and  I  must  part  here.  It  is  all  the 
better  for  you  it  should  be  so.  I  am  what 
the  world  is  pleased  to  call  a  '  dangerous 
companion ;'  and  there  is  more  truth  in 
the  epithet  than  they  wot  of  who  employ 
it.  It  is  not  because  I  am  a  man  of  plea. 
vol.  i—32 


sure,  and  occasionally  a  man  of  expensive 
habits  and  costly  tastes,  nor  that  I  now 
and  then  play  deep,  or  drink  deep,  or  fol- 
low up  with  passionate  determination  any 
ruling  propensity  of  the  moment;  but  be- 
cause I  am  a  discontented  and  unset  tied 
man,  who  has  a  vague  ambition  of  being 
something,  he  knows  not  what,  by  means 
he  knows  not  how  ;  ever  willing  t;>  throw 
himself  into  an  enterprise  where  the  prize 
is  great  and  the  risk  greater,  and  yet  never 
able  to  warm  his  wishes  into  enthusiasm 
nor  his  belief  into  a  conviction.  In  a 
word,  a  Frenchman,  born  a  Legitimist, 
reared  a  Democrat,  educated  an  Imperial- 
ist, and  turned  adrift  upon  the  world  a 
scoffer — such  men  as  I  am  are  dangerous 
companions  ;  and  when  they  increase  (as 
they  are  likely  to  do  in  our  state  of  society), 
will  be  still  more  dangerous  citizens.  But 
come,  my  good  friend,  don't  look  dismayed, 
nor  distend  your  nostrils  as  if  you  were  on 
the  scent  for  a  smell  of  brimstone— 'Satan 
s'en  va  ! '  "  With  these  words  he  arose  and 
held  out  his  hand  to  me.  "  Don't  let  your 
Napoleonite  ardor  ooze  out  too  rapidly, 
Burke,  and  you'll  be  a  marshal  of  France 
yet.  There  are  great  prizes  in  the  wheel, 
to  be  had  by  those  who  strive  for  them. 
Adieu  !  " 

"  But  we  shall  meet,  Duchesne  ?" 

"I  hope  so.  The  time  may  come,  per- 
haps, when  we  may  be  intimate  without 
alarming  the  police  of  the  department. 
But,  for  the  present,  I  am  about  to  leave 
Paris  ;  some  friends  in  the  south  have  been 
kind  enough  to  invite  me  to  visit  them, 
and  I  start  this  afternoon."  We  shook 
hands  once  more,  and  Duchesne  moved  to- 
ward the  door  ;  then,  turning  suddenly 
about,  he  said:  "A  propos  of  another 
matter — this  Mademoiselle  de  Lacostel- 
lerie." 

"What  of  her?"  said  I,  with  some 
curiosity  in  my  tone. 

"  Why,  I  have  a  kind  of  half  suspicion, 
ripening  into  something  like  an  assurance, 
that  when  we  meet  again  she  may  be 
Madame  Burke." 

"  What  nonsense!  my  dear  friend — the 
absurdity — " 

"  There  is  none  whatever.  An  acquaint- 
ance begun  like  yours  is  very  suggestive  of 
such  a  termination.  When  the  lady  is 
saucy  and  the  gentleman  shy,  the  game 
stands  usually  thus  :  the  one  needs  control 
and  the  other  lacks  courage.  Let  them 
change  the  cards,  and  see  what  conies  of  it." 

"  You  are  wrong,  Duchesne — all  wrong." 

"  Be  it  so.  I  have  been  so  often  right,  I 
can  afford  a  false  prediction  without  losing 
all  my  character  as  prophet.     Adieu  I" 


198 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


No  sooner  was  I  alone  than  I  sat  down 
to  think  over  what  lie  had  said.  The 
improbability,  nay,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  the 
ail  hut  impossibility,  of  such  an  event  as 
lie  foretold,  seemed  not  less  now  than 
when  first  I  heard  it,  but  somehow  I  felt  a 
kind  of  internal  satisfaction,  a  sense  of 
gratified  vanity,  to  think  that  to  so  acute 
an  observer  as  Duchesne  such  a  circum- 
stance did  not  appear  even  unreasonable. 
How  hard  is  it  to  call  in  reason  against 
the  assault  of  flattery  !  How  difficult  to 
resist  the  force  of  an  illusion  by  any  appeal 
to  our  good  sense  and  calmer  judgment ! 
It.  must  not  be  supposed  from  this  that  I 
seriously  contemplated  such  a  possible  turn 
of  fortune — far  less  wished  for  it.  No. 
My  satisfaction  had  a  different  source.  It 
lay  in  the  thought  that  I,  the  humble 
captain  of  hussars,  should  ever  be  thought 
of  as  the  suitor  of  the  greatest  beauty  and 
the  richest  dowry  of  the  day  ;  here  was 
the  mainspring  of  my  flattered  pride.  As 
to  any  other  feeling,  I  had  none.  I  ad- 
mired Mademoiselle  do  Lacostellerie  greatly. 
She  was,  perhaps,  the  very  handsomest  girl 
I  ever  saw.  There  was  not  one  in  the 
whole  range  of  Parisian  society  so  much 
sought  after  ;  and  there  was  a  degree  of 
distinction  in  being  accounted  even  among 
the  number  of  her  admirers.  Besides  this, 
there  lay  a  lurking  desire  in  my  heart  that 
Marie  de  Meudon  (for  as  such  only  could  I 
think  of  her)  should  hear  me  thus  spoken 
of.  It  seemed  to  me  like  a  weak  revenge 
on  her  own  indifference  to  me,  and  I 
longed  to  make  anything  a  cause  of  con- 
necting my  fate  with  the  idea  of  her  who 
yet  held  my  whole  heart. 

Only  men  who  live  much  to  themselves 
and  their  own  thoughts  know  the  pleasure 
of  thus  linking  their  fortunes,  by  some 
imaginary  chain,  to  that  of  those  they 
love.  They  are  the  straws  that  drowning 
men  catch  at ;  but  still,  for  the  moment, 
they  sustain  the  sinking  courage,  and  nerve 
the  heart  where  all  is  failing.  I  felt  this 
acutely.  I  knew  well  that  she  was  not, 
nor  could  be,  anything  to  me  ;  but  I  knew, 
also,  that  to  divest  my  mind  of  her  image, 
was  to  live  in  darkness,  and  that  the  mere 
chance  of  being  remembered  by  her  was 
happiness  itself. 

It  was  while  hearing  of  her  I  first  im- 
bibed the  soldier's  ardor  from  her  own 
brother.  She  herself  had  placed  before 
me  the  glorious  triumphs  of  that  career 
in  words  that  never  ceased  to  ring  in  my 
ears.  All  my  hopes  of  distinction,  my 
aspirations  for  success,  were  associated  with 
the  half  prediction  she  had  uttered,  and  I 
burned  for  an  occasion  by  which  I  could 


signalize  myself,  that  she   might  read  mv 
name — perchance  might  say,  "And  he  loved 


me 


!  » 


In  such  a  world  of  dreamy  thought  I 
passed  day  after  day.  Duchesne  was  gone, 
and  I  had  no  intimate  companion  to  share 
my  hours  with,  nor  with  whom  I  could 
expand  in  social  freedom.  Meanwhile,  the 
gay  life  of  the  capital  continued  its  onward 
course — fetes  and  balls  succeeded  each  other, 
and  each  night  I  found  myself  a  guest  at 
some  splendid  entertainment— but  where  I 
neither  knew  nor  was  known  to  any  one. 

It  was  on  one  morning,  after  a  very 
magnificent  fete  at  the  arch -chancellor's, 
that  I  remembered,  for  the  first  time,  I  had 
not  seen  my  poor  friend  Pioche  since  his 
arrival  at  Paris.  A  thrill  of  shame  ran 
through  me  at  the  thought  of  having 
neglected  to  ask  after  my  old  comrade  of 
the  march,  and  I  ordered  my  horse  at  once, 
to  set  out  for  the  Hutel-Dieu,  which  had 
now  been,  in  great  part,  devoted  to  the 
wounded  soldiers. 

The  day  was  a  fine  one  for  the  season,  and 
as  I  entered  the  large  court-yard  I  perceived 
numbers  of  the  invalids  moving  about  in 
groups,  to  enjoy  the  air  and  the  sun  of  a  bud- 
ding spring.  Poor  fellows!  they  were  but  the 
mere  remnants  of  humanity.  Several  had 
lost  both  legs,  and  few  were  there  without 
an  empty  sleeve  to  their  loose  blue  coats. 
In  a  large  hall,  where  three  long  tables 
were  being  laid  for  dinner,  many  were 
seated  around  the  ample  fire-places,  and  at 
one  of  these  a  larger  group  than  ordinary 
attracted  my  attention.  They  were  not 
chatting  and  laughing,  like  the  rest,  but 
apparently  in  deep  silence.  I  approached, 
curious  to  know  the  reason,  and  then  per- 
ceived that  they  were  all  listening  attentive- 
ly to  some  one  reading  aloud.  The  tones 
of  the  voice  were  familiar  to  me  ;  I  stopped 
to  hear  them  more  plainly.  It  was  Minette 
herself — the  vivandiere — wdio  sat  there  in 
the  midst ;  beside  her,  half  reclining  in  a 
deep,  old-fashioned  arm-chair,  was  "le 
gros  Pioche  " — his  huge  beard  descending 
midway  on  his  chest,  and  his  great  mous- 
tache curling  below  his  upper  lip.  He 
had  greatly  rallied  since  I  saw  him  last, 
but  still  showed  signs  of  debility  and  feeble- 
ness by  the  very  attitude  in  which  he  lay. 

Mingling  unperceived  with  the  crowd, 
who  were  far  too  highly  interested  in  the 
recital  to  pay  any  attention  to  my  approach, 
I  listened  patiently,  and  soon  perceived  that 
mademoiselle  was  reading  some  incident  of 
the  Egyptian  campaign,  from  one  of  those 
innumerable  volumes  which  then  formed 
the  sole  literature  of  the  garrison. 

"  The  redoubt,"  continued  Minette,  "  was 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


499 


strongly  defended  in  front  by  stockades 
and  a  ditch,  while  twelve  pieces  of  artillery, 

and  a  force  of  seven  hundred  Mamelukes, 
were  within  the  works,  Suddenly  an 
aide-de-camp  arrived  at  full  gallop,  with 
orders  for  the  Thirty-second  to  attack  the 
redoubt  with  the  bayonet,  and  carry  it. 
The  major  of  the  regiment  (the  colonel 
had  been  killed  that  morning,  at  the  ford) 
cried  out  : 

"  'Grenadiers,  you  hear  the  order — for- 
ward !'  but  the  same  instant  a  terrible  dis- 
charge of  grape  tore  through  the  ranks, 
.killing  three  and  wounding  eight  others. 
*  Forward,  men!  forward!'  shouted  the 
Major;  but  no  one  stirred.'" 

"  Tete  d'enfer,"  growled  out  Pioche, 
"where  was  the  tambour  ?  " 

"You  shall  hear,"  said  Minette,  and  re- 
sumed. "'Do  you  hear  me  ?'  cried  the 
Major,  'or  am  I  to  be  disgraced  forever? 
Advance  !  quick  time  !  march  ! ' 

"'But,  major,'  said  a  sergeant,  aloud, 
'they  are  not  roasted  apples  those  fellows 
yonder  are  pelting.' 

"  '  Silence  ! '  called  out  the  Major  ;  '  not 
a  word  !     Tambour,  beat  the  charge  ! ' 

"  Suddenly  a  man  sprang  up  to  his 
knees,  from  the  ground,  where  he  had  been 
lying,  and  began  to  beat  the  drum  with  all 
his  might.  Poor  fellow !  his  leg  was 
smashed  with  a  shot,  but  he  obeyed  his  or- 
ders m  the  midst  of  all  his  suffering. 

"  '  Forward,  men,  forward  ! '  cried  the 
Major,  waving  his  cap  above  his  head. 
'  Fix  bayonets  !  Charge  ! '  And  on  they 
dashed  after  him. 

"'Hollo!  comrades,' shouted  the  tam- 
bour, '  don't  leave  me  behind  you  ; '  and  in 
an  instant  two  grenadiers  stooped  down  and 
hoisted  him  on  their  shoulders,  and  then 
rushed  forward  through  the  smoke  and 
flame.  Crashing  and  smashing  went  the 
shot  through  the  leading  files,  but  on  they 
went,  leaping  over  the  dead  and  dying." 
"  With  the  tambour  still  ?  "  asked  Pioche. 
"To  be  sure,"  said  Minette.  "There 
he  was  ;  but  listen  : 

"Just  as  they  reached  the  breach  a  shot 
above  their  heads  came  whizzing  past,  and 
a  terrible  bang  rang  out  as  it  went. 

"  '  He  is  killed,'  said  one  of  the  grena- 
diers, preparing  to  lower  the  body;  'I 
heard  his  cry.' 

"  '  Not  yet,  comrade,'  cried  the  tam- 
bour ;  '  it  is  the  drum- head  they  have  car- 
ried away,  that's  all  ; '  and  he  beat  away  on 
the  wooden  sides  harder  than  ever.  And 
thus  they  bore  him  over  the  glacis,  and  up 
the  rampart,  and  never  stopped  till  they 
placed  him,  sitting,  on  one  of  the  guns  on 
the  wail." 


"  Hurrah  !  well  done  !  "  cried  Pioche  ; 
while  every  throat  around  him  re-echoed 
the  cry— "Hurrah  !" 

"  What  was  his  name,  mademoiselle  ?" 
cried  several  voices.  "Tell  us  the  nameof 
the  tambour  ! " 

"Ma fox,  messieurs,  they  have  nol  given 
it." 

"Not  given  his  name,"  growled  they 
out.     "  Ventrebleu!  that  is  too  bad  !" 

"An  he  had  been  an  officer  of  the  Guard 
they  would  have  told  us  his  whole  birth 
and  parentage,"  said  a  wrinkled,  sour-look- 
ing old  fellow,  with  one  eve. 

"Or  a  lieutenant  of  hussars,  mademoi- 
selle !  "  said  Pioche,  looking  fixedly  at  the 
vivandiore,  who  held  the  book  close  to  her 
face  to  conceal  a  deep  blush  that  covered 
it.  "But,  hollo,  there!  Qui  vive?" 
The  cuirassier  had  just  caught  a  glimpse  of 
me  at  the  moment,  and  every  eye  was  turn- 
ed at  once  to  where  I  was  standing.  "  Ah, 
lieutenant,  vou  here  !  Xot  invalided,  I 
hope  ?  " 

"No,  Pioche  ;  my  visit  was  intended- for 
you  ;  and  I  have  had  the  good  fortune  to 
I  come  in  for  the  tale  mademoiselle  was  read- 
ing." 

Before  I  had  concluded  these  few  words, 
|  the  wounded  soldiers,  or  such  of  them  as 
[  could,  had  risen  from  their  seats,  and  stood 
|  respectfully  around  me,  while  Minette,  re- 
creating behind  the  great  chair  where  Pi- 
;  ochc  lay,  seemed  to  wish  to  avoid  recogni- 
tion. 

"  Front  rank,  mademoiselle,  front  rank  ! " 
said  Pioche.  "Parbleu!  when  one  has 
the  '  cross  of  the  Legion  '  from  the  hands 
of  the  Emperor  himself,  one  need  not  be 
ashamed  of  being  seen.  Besides,"  added 
he,  in  a  lower  tone,  but  one  I  could  well 
overhear,  "  thou  art  not  dressed  in  thy 
uniform  now,  thou  hast  nothing  to  blush 
for  ! " 

Still  she  hung  down  her  head,  and  her 
confusion  seemed  only  to  increase;  so  that, 
unwilling  to  prolong  her  embarrassment, 
which  I  saw  my  presence  had  caused,  I 
merely  made  a  few  inquiries  from  Pioche 
regarding  his  own  health,  and  took  my 
leave  of  the  party. 

As  I  rode  homeward,  I  could  not  help 
turning  over  in  my  mind  the  words  of  Pi- 
oche, ''Thou  art  not  in  thy  uniform  now, 
thou  hast  nothing  to  blush  for!"  Here, 
then,  seemed  the  key  to  the  changed  manner 
of  the  poor  girl  when  I  met  her  at  Austerlitz, 
some  feeling  of  womanly  shame  at  being 
seen  in  the  costume  of  the  vivandiere  by 
one  who  had  known  her  only  in  another 
guise  ;  but  could  this  be  so  ?  I  asked  my- 
self— a  question  a  very  little  k" -^vl^ige  <>f 


500 


( 7/ \\HLFS   LEVER'S   WORKS. 


a  woman's  heart  might  have  spared  me; 
and  thus  pondering,  I  returned  to  the 
Luxembourg. 


CHAPTER  LXI. 

AN  OLD   FRIEND   UNCHANGED. 

They  who  took  their  tone  in  polities 
from  the  public  journals  of  France  must 
have  been  somewhat  puzzled  at  the  new 
and  unexpected  turn  of  the  papers  in  gov- 
ernment influence  at  the  period  I  now 
speak  of.  The  tremendous  attacks  against 
the  li  per  fide  'Albion,''  which  constituted 
the  staple  of  the  leading  articles  in  the 
Moniteur,  were  gradually  discontinued. 
The  great  body  of  the  people  were  separated 
from  the  "tyrannical  domination  of  an  in- 
solent aristocracy;''  an  occasional  eulogy 
would  appear,  too,  upon  the  "native good 
sense  and  right  feeling  of  John  Bull/'  when 
not  led  captive  by  appeals  to  his  passions 
and  prejudices ;  and  at  last  a  wish  more 
boldly  expressed,  that  the  two  countries, 
whose  mission  it  should  be  to  disseminate 
civilization  over  the  arth,  could  so  far  un- 
derstand their  real  interest  as  to  become 
"fast  friends,  instead  of  dangerous  ene- 
mies." 

The  accession  of  the  Whigs  to  power  in 
England  was  the  cause  of  this  sudden  revo- 
lution. The  Emperor,  when  first  Consul, 
had  learned  to  know  and  admire  Charles 
Fox  ;  sentiments  of  mutual  esteem  had 
grown  up  between  them,  and  it  seemed  now 
as  if  his  elevation  to  power  were  the  only 
thing  wanting  to  establish  friendly  rela- 
tions between  the  two  countries. 

How  far  the  French  Emperor  presumed 
on  Fox's  liberalism,  and  the  strong  bias  to 
party,  inducing  him  to  adopt  such  a  line 
of  policy  as  would  run  directly  counter  to 
that  of  his  predecessors  in  office,  and  thus 
dispose  the  nation  to  more  amicable  views 
toward  France,  certain  it  is,  that  he  mis- 
calculated considerably  when  he  built  upon 
any  want  of  true  English  feeling  on  the 
part  of  that  minister,  or  any  tendency  to 
weaken,  by  unjust  concessions,  the  proud 
attitude  England  had  assumed  at  the  com- 
mencement and  maintained  throughout  the 
entire  continental  war. 

A  mere  accident  led  to  a  renewal  of  ne- 
gotiations between  the  two  countries.  A 
villain,  calling  himself  Guillet  de  la  Gre- 
villiere,  had  the  audacity  to  propose  to  the 
English  minister  the  assassination  of  Na- 
poleon, and  to  offer  himself  for  the  deed. 
He  had  hired  a  house  at  Passy,  and  made 
every  preparation  for  the  execution  of  his 


foul  scheme.  To  denounce  this  wretch  to 
the  French  minister  of  foreign  affairs,  Tal- 
leyrand, was  tht:  first  step  of  Fox.  This 
led  to  a  reply,  in  which  Talleyrand  report- 
ed, word  for  word,  a  conversation  that 
passed  between  the  Emperor  and  himself, 
and  wherein  expressions  of  the  kindest  na- 
ture were  employed  by  Napoleon  with  re- 
gard to  Fox,  and  many  flattering  allusions 
to  the  times  of  their  former  intimacy  ;  the 
whole  concluding  with  the  expression  of  an 
ardent  desire  for  a  good  understanding  and 
a  "lasting  peace  between  two  nations  de- 
signed by  nature  to  esteem  each  other." 

Although  the  whole  scheme  of  the  assas- 
sination was  a  police  stratagem  devised  by 
Fouchc,  to  test  the  honor  and  good  faith 
of  the  English  minister,  the  result  was 
eagerly  seized  on  as  a  basis  for  new  negoti- 
ations ;  and,  from  that  hour,  the  temperate 
language  of  the  French  papers  evinced  a 
new  policy  toward  England.  The  insolent 
allusions  of  journalists,  the  satirical  squibs 
of  party  writers,  the  caricatures  of  the 
English  eccentricity,  were  suppressed  at 
once;  and  by  that  magic  influence  whi eh 
Napoleon  wielded,  the  whole  tone  of  public 
feeling  seemed  altered  as  regarded  England 
and  Englishmen.  From  the  leaders  in  the 
Moniteur  to  the  shop  windows  of  the 
"Palais,"  an  Anglomania  prevailed,  and 
the  idea  was  thrown  out,  that  the  two 
nations  had  divided  the  world  between 
them— the  sea  being  the  empire  of  the 
British,  the  land  that  of  Frenchmen. 
Commissioners  were  appointed  on  both 
sides  :  at  first  Lord  Yarmouth,  and  then 
Lord  Lauderdale,  by  England ;  General 
Clarke  and  M.  Champagny,  on  the  part  of 
France.  Lord  Yarmouth,  at  that  time 
a  detenu  at  Verdun,  was  selected  by  Talley- 
rand to  proceed  to  England,  and  learn  the 
precise  basis  on  which  an  amicable  negoti- 
ation could  be  founded. 

Scarcely  was  the  interchange  of  corres- 
pondence made  public,  when  the  new  tone 
of  feeling  and  acting  toward  England  dis- 
played itself  in  every  circle  and  every  salon. 
If  a  proof  were  wanting  how  thoroughly 
the  despotism  of  Napoleon  had  penetrated 
into  the  very  core  of  society,  here  was  a 
striking  one  :  not  only  were  many  of  the 
detenus  liberated,  and  sent  back  to  Eng- 
land, but  were  feted  and  entertained  at  the 
various  towns  they  stopped  at  on  their  way, 
and  every  expedient  practiced  to  make  them 
satisfied  with  the  treatment  they  'had  re- 
ceived on  the  soil  of  France. 

An  English  guest  was  deemed  an  irresis- 
tible attraction  at  a  dinnerparty,  and  the 
most  absurd  attempts  at  imitation  of  Eng- 
lish habits,  dress,  and   language,  were  in- 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


501 


troduced  into  society,  as  the  last  "mode," 
and  extolled  as  the  very  pinnacle  of  fashion- 
able excellence. 

It  would  be  easy  for  me  here  to  cite  some 
strange  instances  of  this  new  taste  ;  but  1 
already  fee'  that  I  have  wandered  from  my 
own  path,  and  owe  an  apology  to  my  reader 
for  invading  precincts  which  scarce  become 
me.  Yet  may  I  observe  here — and  the  ex- 
planation will  serve  once  for  all — I  have 
been  more  anxious  in  this  "  true  history  *' 
to  preserve  some  passing  record  of  the 
changeful  features  of-  an  eventful  period  in 
Europe,  than  merely  to  chronicle  personal 
adventures,  which,  although  not  devoid  of 
vicissitudes,  are  still  so  insignificant  in  the 
great  events  by  which  they  were  surround- 
ed. The  Consulate,  the  Empire,  and  the 
Restoration,  were  three  great,  tableaux, 
differing  in  their  groupings  and  color,  but 
each  part  of  one  mighty  whole — links  in 
the  great  chain,  and  evidencing  the  change- 
ful aspect  of  a  nation  crouching  beneath 
tyranny,  or  dwindling  under  imbecility 
and  dotage. 

I  have  said  the  English  were  the  vogue  in 
Paris  ;  and  so  they  were,  but  especially  in 
those  salons  which  reflected  the  influence  of 
the  court,  and  where  the  tone  of  the  Tuile- 
ries  was  revered  as  law. 

Every  member  of  the  government,  or  all 
who  were  even  remotely  connected  with  it, 
at  once  adopted  the  reigning  mode  ;  and  to 
be  a  TAnglaise  became  now  as  much  the 
type  of  fashion  as  ever  it  had  been  directly 
the  opposite.  Only  such  as  were  in  the 
confidence  of  Fouche  and  his  schemes  knew 
how  hollow  all  this  display  of  friendly  feel- 
ing was,  or  how  ready  the  government  held 
themselves  to  assume  their  former  attitude 
of  defiance  when  circumstances  should  ren- 
der it  advisable. 

Among  those  who  speedily  took  up  the 
tone  of  the  Imperial  counsels,  the  salons  of 
the  Hotel  Clichy  were  conspicuous.  Eng- 
lish habits,  as  regarded  table  ecpiipage, 
English  servants — even  to  English  cookery 
did  French  politeness  extend  its  complai- 
sance ;  and  many  of  the  commonest  habi- 
tudes and  least-cultivated  tastes  were  im- 
ported as  the  daily  observances  of  fashion- 
able people  '  outretner.' 

In  this  headlong  Anglomania,  my  Eng- 
lish birth  and  family — I  say  English,  be- 
cause, abroad,  the  petty  distinctions  of  Irish- 
man or  Scotchman  arc  not  attended  to — 
marked  me  out  for  peculiar  attention  in  so- 
ciety ;  and  although  my  education  and 
residence  in  France  had  well-nigh  rubbed 
off  all,  or  the  greater  part  of  my  national 
peculiarities,  yet  the  flatterers  of  the  day 
found  abiTiidant  traits  to  admire  in  what 


they  recognized  as  my  John  Bull  character- 
istics. And  in  this  way,  a  blunder  m 
French,  a  mistake  in  grammar,  or  a  false 
accentuation,  became  actually  a  succes  tie 
yitlon. 

Though  I  could  not  help  smiling  at  the 
absurdity  of  a  vogue  whose  violence  alone 
indicated  its  unlikeliness  to  last,  yet  I  had 
sufficient  of  the  spirit  of  my  adopted  coun- 
try to  benefit  by  it,  while  it  did  exist,  and 
never  spent  a  single  day  out  of  company, 

At  the  Hotel  Clichy  I  was  a  constant 
guest,  and  while  with  Mademoiselle  de  La- 
costellerie  my  acquaintance  made  little 
progress,  with  the  countess  1  became  a  spe- 
cial favorite — she  honoring  me  so  far  as  to 
take  me  into  her  secret  counsels,  and  teli 
me  all  the  little  nothings  which  Fouche 
usually  disseminated  as  state  secrets,  and 
circulated  twice  or  thrice  a  week  through- 
out Paris.  From  him,  too,  she  learned  the 
names  of  the  various  English  who  each  day 
arrived  in  Paris  from  Verdun,  and  thus 
contrived  to  have  a  succession  of  those  fa- 
vored guests  at  her  dinner  and  evening  par- 
ties. 

During  all  this  time,  as  I  have  said,  my 
intimacy  with  mademoiselle  advanced  but 
slowly,  and  certainly  showed  slight  pros- 
pect of  verifying  the  prophecy  of  Duchesne 
at  parting.  Her  manner  had,  indeed,  lost 
its  cold  and  haughty  tone,  but  in  lieu  of  it 
there  was  a  flippant,  half  impertinent,  mo- 
queur  spirit,  which,  however  easily  turned 
to  advantage  by  a  man  of  the  world  like  the 
chevalier,  was  terribly  disconcerting  to  a 
less  forward  and  less  enterprising  person 
like  myself.  Dobretski  still  continued  an 
invalid,  and,  although  she  never  mentioned 
his  name  nor  alluded  to  him  in  any  in- 
stance, I  could  see  that  she  suspected  I 
knew"  something  more  of  his  illness,  and  the 
cause  of  it,  than  I  had  ever  confessed.  It 
matters  little  what  the  subject  of  it  be,  let  a 
secret  once  exist  between  a  young  man  and 
a  young  woman,  let  there  be  the  tacit  un- 
derstanding that  they  mutually  know  of 
something  of  which  others  are  in  ignorance, 
and  from  that  moment  a  species  of  intelli- 
gence is  established  between  them  of  the 
most  dangerous  kind.  They  may  not  be 
disposed  to  like  each  other ;  there  may  be 
attachments  elsewhere  ;  there  may  be  a 
hundred  reasons  why  love  should  not  enter 
into  the  case— yet  will  there  be  a  conscious 
sense  of  this  hidden  link  which  binds  them, 
strangely  at  variance  with  their  ordinary 
regard  for  each  other,  eternally  mingling 
in  all  their  intercourse,  and  suggesting 
modes  of  acting  and  thinking  at  variance 
with  the  true  tenor  of  the  acquaintanceship. 

Such,  then,  was  my  position  at  the  Hotel 


502 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


Clichy,  .at  which  I  was  almost  daily  a  vis- 
itor or  a  guest,  m  the  morning  to  hear  the 
chit-chat  of  the  day — the  changes  talked  of 
in  the  administration,  the  intended  plans 
of  the  Emperor,  or  the  last  modes  in  dress 
introduced  by  the  Empress,  whose  taste  in 
costume  and  extravagant  habits  were  much 
more  popular  with  the  tradespeople  than 
with  Napoleon. 

An  illness  of  a  few  days'  duration  had 
confined  me  to  the  Luxembourg,  and  un- 
happily deprived  me  of  the  Court-ball,  for 
which  1  had  received  my  invitation  several 
weeks  before.  It  seemed  as  if  my  fate  for- 
bade any  chance  of  my  ever  seeing  her  once 
more  Avhose  presence  in  Pans  was  the  great 
hope  I  held  out  to  myself  when  coming. 
Already  a  rumor  was  afloat  that  several  of- 
ficers had  received  orders  to  join  their  regi- 
ments, and  now  I  began  to  fear  lest  I  should 
leave  the  capital  without  meeting  her,  and 
was  thinking  of  some  plan  by  which  I  could 
attain  that  object,  when  a  note  arrived  from 
Mademoiselle  de  Lacostellene,  written  with 
more  than  her  usual  cordiality,  and  inviting 
me  to  dinner  on  the  following  day  with  a 
very  small  party,  but  when  I  should  meet 
one  of  my  oldest  friends. 

I  thought  of  every  one  in  turn  who  could 
be  meant  under  the  designation,  but  without 
ever  satisfying  my  mind  that  I  had  hit  upon 
the  right  one.  Tascher  it  could  not  be.  for 
the  very  last  accounts  I  had  seen  from  Ger- 
many spoke  of  him  as  with  his  regiment. 
My  curiosity  was  sufficiently  excited  to 
make  me  accept  the  invitation,  and,  true  to 
time,  I  found  myself  at  the  Hotel  Clichy 
at  the  hour  appointed. 

On  entering  the  salon,  I  discovered  that 
I  was  alone  ;  none  of  the  guests  had  as  yet 
arrived,  nor  had  the  ladies  of  the  house 
made  their  appearance,  and  I  lounged  about 
the  splendid  drawing-room,  where  every  ap- 
pliance of  luxury  was  multiplied  ;  pictures, 
vases,  statues,  and  bronzes  abounded — for 
the  apartments  had  all  the  ample  propor- 
tions of  a  gallery — battle  scenes,  from  the 
great  events  of  the  Italian  and  Egyptian 
campaigns,  busts  of  celebrated  generals,  and 
portraits  of  several  of  the  marshals,  from  the 
pencils  of  Gerard  and  David;  but  more 
than  all  was  I  struck  by  one  picture.  It 
was  a  likeness  of  Pauline  herself,  in  the  cos- 
tume of  a  Spanish  peasant.  Never  had  art- 
ist caught  more  of  the  character  of  his  sub- 
ject than  m  that  brilliant  sketch — for  it 
was  no  more.  The  proud  tone  of  the  ex- 
pression ;  the  large,  full  eye,  beaming  a 
bright  defiance  ;  the  haughty  curl  of  the 
lip  ;  the  determined  air  of  the  figure,  as  she 
stood  one  foot  in  advance,  and  the  arms 
hanging  easily  on  either  side,  all  conveyed 


an  impression  of  high  resolve  and  proud  de- 
terminai  ion  quite  her  own. 

I  was  leaning  over  the  back  of  a  chair, 
my  eve  steadfastly  fixed  on  the  painting, 
when  1  heard  a  slight  rustling  of  a  dress 
near  me.  I  turned  about.  Jt  was  made- 
moiselle herself.     Although  the  light  of  the 

apartment  was  tempered  by  I  be  closed  ja- 
lousies, and  scarcely  more  than  a  meaetwi- 
light  admitted,  I  could  perceive  that  she 
colored,  and  seemed  confused,  as  she  said, 
"  I  hope  you  don't  think  that  picture  is  a 
likeness  ?" 

"And  yet,"  said  I,  hesitatingly,  "there 
is  much  that  reminds  me  of  you— I  mean, 
I  can  discover — " 

"  Say  it  frankly,  sir.  You  think  that 
saucy  look  is  not  from  mere  fancy.  I 
deemed  you  a  closer  observer  ;  but  no  mat- 
ter. You  have  been  ill,  I  trust  you  are  re- 
covered again." 

"  Oh,  a  mere  passing  indisposition, 
which,  unfortunately,  came  at  the  mo- 
ment of  the  Court-ball ;  you  were  there,  of 
course  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  was  there  we  had.  the  pleasure 
to  meet  your  friend,  the  general  ;  but, 
perhaps,  this  is  indiscreet  on  my  part.  I 
believe,  indeed,  I  promised  to  say  nothing 
.of  him." 

"The  general  !  Do  you  mean  General 
D'Auvergne  ?" 

"That  much  I  will  answer  you— I  do 
not.  But  ask  me  no  more  questions.  Your 
patience  will  not  be  submitted  to  a  long 
trial  ;  he  dines  with  us  to-day." 

I  made  no  reply,  but  began  to  ponder  over 
in  my  mind  who  the  general  in  question 
could  be. 

"  There,  pray  do  not  worry  yourself 
about  what  a  few  moments  will  reveal  for 
you,  without  any  guessing.  How  strange 
it  is,  the  intense  feeling  of  curiosity  people 
are  afflicted  with  who  themselves  have  se- 
crets." 

"But  I  have  none,  mademoiselle;  at 
least,  none  worth  the  telling." 

"Perhaps,"  replied  she  saucily;  "but 
here  come  our  guests."  Several  persons 
entered  the  salon  at  this  moment,  with  each 
of  whom  I  was  slightly  acquainted  ;  they 
were  either  members  of  the  government  or 
generals  on  the  staff.  The  countess  her- 
self soon  after  made  her  appearance,  and 
now  we  only  waited  for  the  individual  so 
distinctively  termed  "my  friend  "  to  com- 
plete the  party. 

"  Pauline  has  kept  our  secret,  I  hope," 
said  the  Countess  to  me.  "I  shall  be 
sadly  disappointed  if  anything  mars  this 
surprise." 

"Who  can  it  be  ?"  thought  I  ;  "or  is 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


503 


the  whole  thing  some  piece  of  badinage  got 
up  at  my  expense  ? "  Scarcely  had  the 
notion  struck  me,  when  a  servant  flung 
wide  the  folding-doors,  and  announced  le 
General  somebody,  but  so  mumbled  was 
the  word,  the  nearest  thing  I  could  make 
of  it  was  "Bulletin.'"  This  time,  however, 
my  cftriosity  suffered  no  long  delay,  for 
quickly  after  the  announcement,  a  portly 
personage  in  an  English  uniform  entered 
hastily,  and  approaching  madame,  kissed 
her  hand  with  a  most  gallant  air  ;  then, 
turning  to  mademoiselle,  he  performed  a 
similar  ceremony.  -All  this  time  my  eyes 
were  riveted  upon  him,  without  my  being 
able  to  make  the  most  remote  guess  as  to 
who  he  was. 

"Must  I  introduce  you,  gentlemen?" 
said  the  Countess.     "Captain  Burke.'' 

"  Eh  !  what !  my  old  friend — my  boy 
Tom  !  this  you,  with  all  that  moustache  ; 
delighted  to  see  you  ;  "  cried  the  large  un- 
known, grasping  me  by  the  hands,  and 
shaking  them  with  a  cordiality  I  had  not 
known  for  many  a  year. 

"Really,  sir,*'  said  I,  "I  am  but  too  hap- 
py to  be  recognized,  but  a  most  unfortu- 
nate memory — " 

"Memory,  lad  !  I  never  forgot  anything 
in  life.  I  remember  the  doctor  shaking  the 
snow  off  his  boots  the  night  I  was  born  ;  a 
devilish  cold  December  ;  we  lived  at  Ben- 
hungeramud,  in  the  Himalaya." 

"'What  !"  cried  I,  "  is  this  Captain  Bub- 
bleton,  my  old  and  kind  friend  ?  " 

."  General,  Tom  —  Lieu  ten  ant-General 
Bubbleton — with  your  leave,"  said  he,  cor- 
recting me. "  "How  the  boy  has  grown! 
I  remember  him  when  he  was  scarce  so 
high." 

"But,  my  dear  captain — " 

"  General,  lieutenant-general — " 

"Well,  lieutenant-general,  to  what  hap- 
py ch.ance  do  we  owe  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
you  here  ?  " 

"  War,  boy,  the  old  story  ;  but  we  shall 
have  time  enough  to  talk  over  these  things, 
and  I  see  we  are  detaining  the  countess." 
So  saying,  the  general  gave  his  arm  to 
madame.  and  led  the  way  toward  the  din- 
ner, whither  we  followed,  I  in  a  state  of 
surprise  and  astonishment  that  left  me  un- 
able to  collect  my  faculties  for  a  consider- 
able time  after. 

Although  the  party,  with  the  exception 
of  Bubbleton,  were  French,  he  himself,  as 
was  his  wont,  supported  nearly  the  whole 
of  the  conversation  ;  and  if  his  French  was 
none  of  the  most  accurate,  he  amply  made 
up  in  volubility  for  all  accidents  of  gram- 
mar. It  appeared  that  he  had  been  three 
years  at  Verdun,  a  prisoner  ;   though  how 


he  came  there,  whence,  and  at  what  exact 
period,  there  was  no  discovering  ;  and  now, 
his  arrival  at  Paris  was  an  event  equally 
shrouded  in  mystery,  for  no  negotiations 
had  been  opened  for  his  exchange  whatever, 
but  he  had  had  the  eloquence  to  persuade 
the  prefet  that  the  omission  was  a  mere  ac- 
cident, some  blunder  of  the  war-office 
people,  which  he  would  rectify  on  his  arri- 
val at  Paris  ;  and  there  he  was,  though 
with  what  prospect  of  reaching  England, 
none  but  one  of  his  inventive  genius  could 
possibly  guess. 

He  was  brimful  of  politics,  ministerial 
secrets,  state  news,  and  government  inten- 
tions, not  only  as  regarded  England,  but 
Austria  and  Russia,  and  communicated  in 
deep  confidence  a  grand  scheme,  by  which 
the  Fox  ministry  were  to  immortalize 
themselves,  which  was  by  giving  up  Malta 
to  the  Bourbons,  Louis  XVIII.  to  be  king, 
Goza  to  be  a  kind  of  dependency  to  be 
governed  by  a  lieutenant-general,  whom 
"  he  would  not  name  ;"  finishing  his  glass 
with  an  ominous  look  as  he  spoke  ;  thence 
he  wandered  on  to  his  repugnance  to  Stare, 
and  dislike  to  any  government  function, 
illustrating  his  quiet  tastes  and  simple 
habits  by  recounting  a  career  of  oriental 
luxury,  in  which  he  described  himself  as 
living  for  years  past ;  every  word  he  spoke, 
whatever  the  impression  on  others,  bring- 
ing me  back  most  forcibly  to  my  boyish 
days  in  the  old  barrack,  where  first  I  met 
him.  Years  had  but  cultivated  his  talents  : 
his  visions  were  bolder  and  more  daring 
than  ever,  while  he  had  chastened  down  his 
hurried  and  excited,  tone  of  narrative  to  a 
quiet  flow  of  unexaggerated  description, 
which,  taking  his  ago  and  appearance  into 
account,  it  was  most  difficult  to  discredit. 

Whether  the  Frenchmen  really  gave 
credit  to  his  revelations,  or  only  from  po- 
liteness affected  to  do  it,  at  first,  I  cannot 
say,  but  assuredly  he  put  all  their  courtesy 
to  a  rude  test,  by  a  little  anecdote,  before 
he  left  the  dinner-room. 

While  speaking  of  the  memorable  siege 
of  Valenciennes,  in  '03,  at  which  one  of 
the  French  officers  was  present,  and  in  a 
high  command,  Bubbleton  at  once  launch- 
ed forth  into  some  very  singular  anecdotes 
of  the  campaign,  where,  as  he  alleged,  he 
also  had  served. 

"  We  took  an  officer  of  one  of  your  in- 
fantry regiments  prisoner,  in  a  sortie  one 
evening,"  said  the  Frenchman.  "I  com- 
manded the  party,  and  shall  never  forget 
the  daring  intrepidity  of  his  escape.  He 
leaped  from  the  wall  into  the  fosse,  a  height 
of  thirty  feet  and  upward.  Parbleu,  we 
had  not  the  heart  to  fire  after  him,  though 


504 


CHARLES  LEVERS    WORKS. 


we  saw,  that  after  the  shock,  he  crawled 
out  upon  his  hands  and  feet,  and  soon 
afterward  gained  strength  enough  to  run. 
He  gave  me  bis  pocket-book,  with  his 
name  ;  I  shall  not  forget  it  readily— it  was 
Stopford." 

"Ab,  poor  Billy — he  was  my  junior 
lieutenant,"  said  Bubbleton  ;  "an  active 
fellow,  but  he  never  could  jnmp  with  me. 
Confound  him,  he  has  left  me  a  souvenir 
also,  though  of  a  different  kind  from  yours 
— a  cramp  in  the  stomach  I  shall  never  get 
rid  of." 

As-this  seemed  a  somewhat  curious  legacy 
from  one  brother  officer  to  another,  we 
could  not  help  calling  on  the  general  for  an 
explanation,  a  demand  Bubbleton  never  re- 
fused to  gratify. 

"It.  happened  in  this  wise,"  said  he, 
pushing  back  his  chair  as  he  spoke,  and 
seating  himself  with  the  easy  attitude  of 
your  true  story-teller:  "the  night  before 
the  assault — the  24th  of  July,  if  my  mem- 
ory serves  me  right — the  sappers  were  push- 
ing forward  the  mines  with  all  dispatch. 
Three  immense  globes  wTere  in  readiness 
beneath  the  walls,  and  some  minor  details 
were  only  necessary  to  complete  the  pre- 
parations. The  stormers  censisted  of  four 
British  and  three  German  regiments — my 
own,  the  Welsh  Fusiliers,  being  one  of  the 
former.  We  occupied  the  lines  stretching 
from  L'Herault  to  Damies." 

The  French  officer  nodded  assent,  and 
Bubbleton  resumed  : 

"  The  Fusiliers  were  on  the  right,  and 
divided  into  two  parties— an  assaulting 
column  and  a  supporting  one — the  ad- 
vanced companies  at  half  cannon-shot  from 
the  walls,  the  others  a  little  farther  off. 
Thus  we  were — when,  about  half-past  ten, 
or  it  might  be  even  eleven  o'clock,  we  were 
drinking  some  mulled  claret  in  my  quarters, 
a  low,  swooping  kind  of  a  noise  came  steal- 
ing along  the  ground.  We  listened — it 
grew  stronger  and  stronger ;  and  then  we 
could  hear  musket-shot,  and  shouting,  and 
the  tramp  of  men  as  if  running.  Out  we 
went,  and,  by  Jove  !  there  we  saw  the  first 
battalion  in  full  retreat  toward  the  camp. 
It  was  a  sortie  in  force  from  the  garrison, 
which  drove  in  our  advanced  posts,  and 
took  several  prisoners.  The  drums  now 
soon  beac  to  quarters — the  men  fell  in 
rapidly,  and  we  advanced  to  meet  them  ; 
no  pleasant  affair,  either,  let  me  remark, 
for  the  night  was  pitch  dark,  and  we  could 
not  even  guess  the  strength  of  your  force. 
It  was  just  then  that  I  was  running  with 
all  my  speed  to  come  up  with  the  flank 
companies,  that  my  cover  sergeant,  a  cool, 
old  Scotch  fellow,  shouted  out  .- 


"'Take  care,  sir! — stoop  there,  sir  !— 
stoop  there  ! ' 

"  But  the  advice  came  too  late.  I  could 
just  discern  through  the  gloom  something 
black,  hopping  and  bounding  along  toward 
me — now  striking  the  ground,  and  then  re- 
bounding again  several  feet  in  the  air. 

"'Stoop,  sir!  down!'  cried  be. 

"But  before  I  could  throw  myself  flat, 
plump  it-  took  me  here — over  I  went, 
breathless,  and  deeming  all  was  finished; 
but,  miraculous  to  say,  in  a  few  minutes 
after  I  found  myself  coming  to  ;  and  ex- 
cept the  shock,  nothing  the  worse  for  the 
injury. 

"  '  Was  that  a  shell,  sergeant  ?'  said  J, 
'  a  spent  shell  ?  ' 

"'Na,  sir,'  said  he,  in  his  own  broad 
way,  '  it  was  naething  o'  the  kind  ;  it  was 
only  Lieutenant  Stopford's  head  that  was 
snapped  aff  up  there.'  " 

"His  head!"  exclaimed  we  all  of  a 
breath — "his head  !" 

"Yes,  poor  fellow,  so  it  was,  a  d — d 
hard  kind  of  a  bullet-head,  too.  The  blow 
has  left  a  weakness  of  the  stomach  I  sup- 
pose I  shall  never  recover  from  ;  and  the 
occurrence  being  so  singular,  I  have  actu- 
ally never  asked  for  a  pension.  There  are 
people,  by  Jove  !  would  throw  discredit  on 
it/' 

This  latter  observation  seemed  so  per- 
fectly to  sum  up  our  own  thoughts  on  the 
matter,  that  we  really  had  nothing  to  re- 
mark on  it ;  and  after  a  silence  of  a  few 
seconds,  politely  relieved  by  the  countess 
hinting  at  coffee  in  the  drawing-room,  we 
arose  and  followed  her. 


CHAPTER  LXIL 


THE   RUE   DES    CAPUCINES. 


Before  I  parted  with  Bubbleton  that 
evening,  be  promised  to  breakfast  with  me 
on  the  following  morning  ;  and,  true  to 
his  word,  entered  my  quarters  soon  after 
ten  o'clock.  I  longed  to  have  an  opportu- 
nity of  talking  to  him  alone,  and  learning 
some  intelligence  of  that  country,  which, 
young  as  I  had  left  it,  was  still  hallowed  in 
my  memory  as  my  own. 

"Eh,  by  Jupiter  !  this  is  something 
like  a  quarter — gilded  moldings,  frescoes, 
silk  hangings,  and  Persian  rugs.  I  say, 
Tom,  are  you  sure  you  haven't  made  a  mis- 
take, my  boy,  and  just  imagined  that  you 
were  somebody  else — Murat  or  Bernadotre. 
for  example  ? — the   thing  is  far  easier  than 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


505 


you  may  think ;  it  happened  to  me  before 
now." 

"Be  tranquil  on  that  score,"  said  I  ; 
"we  are  both  at  home,  though  these  quar- 
ters are,  as  you  remark,  far  beyond  the 
mark  of  a  captain  of  hussars.'' 

"  A  captain  !  Why,  hang  it,  you're  not 
captain  already  ?" 

"Yes,  to  be  sure;  what  signifies  it? 
Only  think  of  your  own  rapid  rise  since  we 
parted ;  you  were  but  a  captain  then,  and 
to  be  now  a  lieutenant-general  I" 

"Ah,  true,  very  true,"  said  he,  hur- 
riedly, while  he  bustled  about  the  room, 
examining  the  furniture,  and  inspecting 
the  decorations  most  narrowly.  "Capital 
service  this  must  be,"  muttered  he,  between 
his  teeth  ;  "  not  much  pay,  I  fancy — but  a 
deal  of  plunder  and  private  robbery." 

"I  cannot  say  much  on  that  head," 
said  I,  laughing  outright  at  what  he  in- 
tended for  a  soliloquy ;  "but  I  must  con- 
fess I  have  no  reason  to  complain  of  my 
lot." 

"Egad,  I  should  think  not,"  rejoined 
he;  "better  than  Old  (reorge's  street. 
Well,  well,  I  vrish  I  were  but  back  there — 
that's  all." 

"  Come,  sit  down  to  your  breakfast ; 
and  perhaps  when  we  talk  it  over  some  plan 
may  present  itself  for  your  exchange." 

How  thoroughly  had  I  forgotten  my 
friend  when  I  uttered  the  sentiment ;  for 
scarcely  was  he  seated  at  table,  when  he 
launched  out,  as  of  old,  into  one  of  his 
visionary  harangues — throwing  forth  dark 
hints  of  his  own  political  importance,  and 
the  keen  watch  the  Emperor  had  set  upon 
his  movements. 

"  No,  my  friend,  the  thing  is  impossi- 
* ble,"  said  he,  ominously;  "Nap.  knows 
me — he  knows  my  influence  with  the  To- 
nes. To  let  me  escape  would  be  to  blow 
all  his  schemes  to  the  winds.  I  am  des- 
tined for  the  'Temple,'  if  not  for  the 
guillotine." 

The  solemnity  of  his  voice  and  manner 
at  this  moment  was  too  much  for  me,  and 
I  laughed  outright. 

"Av,  you  may  laugh — so  does  Anna 
Maria." 

"  And  is  Miss  Bubbleton  here,  too  ?" 
"Yes;  we  are  both  here,"  ejaculated 
he,  with  a  deep  sigh;  "Rue  Neuve  des 
Capucines,  No.  4G,  four  flights  above  the 
entresol  !  ay,  and  in  that  entresol  they 
have  two  spies  of  Fou  die's  police  ;  I  know 
them  well,  though  they  pretend  to  be 
hairdressers — I'm  too  much  for  old  Fouche 
yet,  depend  upon  it,  Tom." 

It  was  in  vain  I  endeavored  to  ascertain 
what    circumstances    led    him    to   believe 


himself  suspected  by  the  government  ; 
neither  was  I  more  fortunate  to  discover 
how  he  first  became  a  detenu.  The  mist 
of  imaginary  events,  places,  and  people 
which  he  had  conjured  up  around  him 
prevented  his  ever  being  able  to  see  hi 
way,  or  know  clearly  any  out  Let  con- 
nected with  his  present  position.  Dark 
hints  about  spies— suspicious  innuendoes  of 
concealed  enemies— plotting  prefets,  and 
opened  letters,  had  actually  filled  his  brain 
to  the  exclusion  of  everything  rational  and 
reasonable  ;  and  I  began  seriously  to  fear 
for  my  poor  friend's  intellect. 

Hoping  by  a  change  of  topic  to  induce  a 
more  equable  tone  of  thinking,  I  asked 
about  Ireland. 

"All  right  there  !  They've  hanged  'em 
all,"  said  he.  Then,  as  if  suddenly  re- 
membering himself,  he  added,  with  a  slight 
confusion," "  Yrou  were  well  out  of  that 
scrape,  Tom.  Your  old  friend  Barton  had 
a  warrant  for  you  the  morning  you  left, 
and  there  was  a  reward  of  five  hundred 
pounds  for  your  apprehension,  and  some- 
thing, too,  for  a  confounded  old  piper,  old 
Blast-the-Bellows,  I  think  they  called 
him." 

"Darby!  What  of  him,  Bubbleton- 
they  did  not  take  him.  I  trust  ?  " 

"  No,  by  Jove  !  They  hanged  two  feh 
lows,  each  of  whom  they  believed  to  be 
him,  and  he  was  in  the  crowd  looking  on, 
they  say;  but  he's  at  large  still,  and  the 
report  goes  Barton  does  not  stir  out  at 
night,  for  fear  of  meeting  him,  as  the  fel- 
low has  an  old  score  to  settle  with  him." 

"And  so,  all  hopes  of  liberty  would 
seem  extinguished  now,"  said  I,  gloomily. 
"  That  is  as  you  may  take  it,  Tom.  I'm 
a  bad  judge  of  these  things  :  but  I  fancy 
that  a  man  who  can  live  here,  might  con- 
trive to  eke  out  life  under  a  British  gov- 
ernment, though  he  might  yearn  now  and 
then  for  a  secret  police— a  cabinet  noir— or 
perhaps  a  tight  cravat  in  the  Temple." 
"  Hush  !  my  friend." 
"Ay  !  there  it  is.  Now,  if  we  were  in 
Dame-street,  we  might  abuse  the  ministers 
and  the  army,  and  the  Lord-Lieutenant,  to 
our  heart's  content,  and  if  Jimmy  O'Brien 
wasn't  one  of  the  company,  I'd  not  mind  a 
hit  at  Barton  himself." 

"  But  does  England  still  maintain  her 
proud  tone  of  ascendancy  toward  Ireland  ? 
Is  the  Saxon  the  hereditary  lord,  and  the 
Celt  the  slave,  still  ?" 

"  There  again  you  puzzle  me.  .  For  I 
never  saw  much  of  this  same  ascendancy, 
or  slavery  either.  Loyal  people,  some  way 
or  other,  were  usually  in  favor  with  the 
government,  and  had,  what  many  thought, 


o06 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


a,  most  unjust  proportion  of  the  good  things 

to  their  share  ;  but  even  the  others  got  off 
in  most  cases  easily  too — a  devilish  deal 
better  than  you  treated  those  luckless  Aus- 
i  mis  the  other  day.  You  killed  some 
thirty  thousand,  and  made  bankrupts  of 
the  rest  of  the  nation.  But  then,  to  be 
sure,  it  was  the  cause  of  liberty  you  were 
fighting  for — and  as  for  the  Italians — " 

"Yes!  hut  you  forget  these  were  wars 
not  of  our  seeking.  The  treachery  of  false- 
hearted allies  led  to  these  sad  results." 

"  I  suppose  so.  But  certain  it  is,  na- 
tions, like  individuals,  that  have  a  taste  for 
fighting,  usually  have  the  good  luck  to 
find  an  adversary — and  as  your  Emperor 
hete  seems  to  have  learned  the  Donny- 
brook  Fair  trick  of  trailing  his  coat  after 
him,  it  would  be  strange  enough  if  no- 
bodv  would  gratify  him  by  standing  on 
it." 

Without  being  able  to  say  why,  I  felt 
piqued  and  annoyed  at  the  tone  of  Bubble- 
ton's  remarks,  which  coming  from  one  of 
his  narrow  intelligence  on  ordinary  topics, 
worried  me  only  the  more.  I  had  long 
since  seen,  that  the  liberty  with  which  in 
boyhood*  I  was  infatuated,  had  no  existence, 
save  in  the  dreams  of  ardent  patriotism — 
that  the  great  and  the  mighty  felt  ambi- 
tion a  goal,  and  power  a  birthright — that 
the  watchwords  of  freedom  were  inscribed 
on  banners,  when  the  sentiments  had  died 
out  of  men's  hearts,  while,  as  a  passion,  the 
more  dazzling  one  of  glory,  made  every 
other  pale  before  it,  and  that  the  calm 
head  and  moderate  judgment  could  scarce 
survive  contact  with  the  intoxicating  tri- 
umphs of  a  nation's  successes. 

Such  was,  indeed,  the  real  change  Na- 
poleon had  wrought  in  France.  Their  en- 
thusiasm could  not  rest  content  with 
national  liberty.  Glory  alone  could  satisfy 
a  nation  drunk  with  victory.  Against  the 
stern  followers  of  the  republican  era,  the 
soldiers  of  the  Sambre  and  Meuse — the 
men  of  Jemmappes— r-he  had  arrayed  the  ar- 
dent, high-spirited  youth  of  the  Consulate 
and  the  Empire — the  heroes  of  Areola,  of 
Rivoli,  of '  Cairo,  and  Austerlitz.  flow 
vain  to  discuss  questions  of  social  order  or 
national  freedom  with  the  cordoned  and 
glittering  bands  who  saw  monarchy  and 
kingdoms  among  the  prizes  of  their  ambi- 
tion !  And  even  I,  who  had  few  ambitious 
hopes,  how  had  the  ardor  that  once  stimu- 
lated me,  and  led  me  to  the  soldier's  life — 
how  had  it  given  way  to  the  mere  conven- 
tional aspirings  of  a  class  ?  The  grade  of 
colonel  was  far  oftener  in  my  thoughts 
than  the  cause  of  freedom.  The  cross  of 
the  Legion  would  have  reconciled  me  to 


much  that  in  my  calmer  judgment  I  might 
deem  harsh  and  tyrannical. 

"  Believe  me,  Tom,"  said  Bubbleton, 
who  saw  in  my  silence  that  his  observations 
had  their  weight  with  me — "believe  me, 
my  philosophy  is  the  true  one — never  to 
meddle  where  you  cannot  serve  yourself,  or 
some  of  your  friends.  The  world  will 
always  consist  of  two  parties — one  govern- 
ing, the  other  governed.  We  belong  to  the 
latter  category,  and  shall  only  get  into  a 
scrape  by  poking  our  heads  where  they  have 
no  business  to  be." 

"Why,  a  few  moments  since  you  were 
full  of  state  secrets,  and  plots,  and  secret 
treaties,  and  Heaven  knows  what  besides." 

"  To  be  sure  I  was  :  and  for  whose  inter- 
est, man — for  whose  sake  ?  George  Fred- 
erick Augustus  Bubbleton's.  Ay,  no  doul  it 
of  it.  Here  am  I,  a  detenu,  and  have  been 
these  two  years  and  a  half,  wasting  away 
existence  at  Verdun,  while  my  property  is 
going  to  the  devil  from  sheer  neglect.  My 
West  India  estates,  who  can  say  how  I  shall 
find  them  ?  My  Calcutta  property,  the 
same.  Then  there's  that  fee-simple  thing 
in  Norfolk.  But  I  can't  even  think  of  it. 
Well,  I  verily  believe  no  single  step  has 
been  taken  for  my  release  or  exchange. 
The  Whigs,  you  know,  will  do  nothing  for 
me.  I  may  tell  you  in  confidence" —here 
he  dropped  his  voice  to  a  low  whisper — "  I 
may  tell  you,  Charles  Fox  hates  me  :  but 
more  of  this  another  time.  What  was  I  to 
do  in  all  this  mess  of  trouble  and  misfor- 
tune ?  Stand  still  and  bear  it  ?  No,  faith, 
that's  not  Bubbleton  policy  !  You'd  never 
guess  what  I  did." 

"I  fear  not." 

"Well,  it  chanced  that  some  little  liter- 
ary labors  of  mine — you  know  I  dally  some- 
times with  the  muse — became  known  to  the 
prefet  at  Verdun.  I  saw  that  they  watch. ed 
me,  and,  consequently,  I  made  great  efforts 
at  secrecy,  concealing  my  papers  in  the 
chimney,  under  the  floor,  sewing  them  in 
the  linings  of  my  coat,  and  so  on.  The 
bait  took  ;  they  made  a  regular  search  ; 
seized  my  MSS.,  put  great  seals  on  all  the 
packages,  and  sent  them  up  to  Paris.  The 
day  after,  I  made  submission  ;  offered  to 
reveal  all  to  the  minister  for  foreign  affairs  ; 
and  accordingly  they  sent  me  up  here  with' 
an  escort.  What  would  have  come  next  I 
cannot  tell  you,  if  Anna  Maria  had  not 
found  out  Lord  Lauderdale,  and  trumped 
up  some  story  to  him,  so  that  he  interfered, 
and  we  are  now  living  at  the  Rue  Neuve 
des  Capucines  ;  but  how  long  we  shall  be 
there,  and  where  they  may  send  us  next,  I 
wish  I  could  only  guess." 

A  few  minutes' consideration  satisfied  me 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


507 


that  the  police  were  concerned  in  Bubble- 
ton's  movements,  and  knowing  at  once  that 
no  danger  was  to  be  apprehended  from  such 
a  source;  were  merely  holding  him  up  for 
some  occasion,  when  they  could  make  use 
of  him  to  found  some  charge  against  the 
British  government — a  maneuver  constant- 
ly employed,  and  always  successful  with 
the  Parisians,  wherever  an  explanation  be- 
came necessary  in  the  public  papers. 

It  would  have  served  no  purpose  to  im- 
part these  suspicions  of  mine  to  Bubbleton 
himself  ;  on  the  contrary,  he  would  inevi- 
tably have  destroyed  all  clue  to  their  con- 
firmation by  some  false  move,  had  I  done 
so.  With  this  impression,  then,  J  resolved 
to  wait  patiently,  watch  events,  and,  when 
the  time  came,  see  what  best  could  be  done 
toward  effecting  his  liberation. 

As  I  was  disposed  to  place  more  reliance 
on  Miss  Bubbleton's  statements  than  those 
of  her  imaginative  brother,  I  agreed  to  his 
proposal  to  pay  her  a  visit,  and  according- 
ly we  set  out  together  for  the  Rue  Neuve 
ctes  Capucines. 

Lieutenant- General  Bubbleton's  quarters 
were  by  no  means  of  that  imposing  charac- 
ter which  befitted  his  rank  in  the  British 
army.  Traversing  a  dirty  court-yard, 
strewed  with  firewood,  we  entered  a  little 
gloomy  passage,  from  which  a  still  gloomier 
stair  ascended  to  the  topmost  regions  of  the 
house,  where,  unlocking  a  door,  he  pushed 
me  before  him  into  a  small,  meanly  fur- 
nished apartment,  the  center  of  which  was 
occupied  by  a  little  iron  stove,  whose  funnel 
pierced,  the  ceiling  above,  and  gave  the 
chamber  somewhat  the  air  of  a  ship's  cabin. 
Bubbleton,  however,  either  did  not,  or 
would  not,  perceive  any  want  of  comfort  or 
propriety  in  the  whole  ;  on  the  contrary, 
he  strode  the  floor  with  the  step  of  an  em- 
peror, and  placed  the  chair  for  me  to  sit  on 
as  though  he  were  about  to  seat  me  on  a 
throne.  While  exchanging  his  coat  for  a 
most  ragged  dressing-gown,  he  threw  him- 
self on  an  old  sofa  with  such  energy  of  ease, 
that  the  venerable  article  of  furniture 
creaked  and  groaned  in  every  joint. 

"  She's  out,"  said  he,  with  a  toss  of  his 
thumb  to  a  half-open  door  ;  "gone  to  take 
a  stroll  in  the  Tuileries  for  half  an  hour, 
so  that  we  shall  have  a  little  chat  before  she 
comes.  And  now,  what  will  ye  take  ? — a 
little  shcrry-and-water — a  glass  of  mara- 
schino— eh  ? — or  what  say  you  to  a  nip  of 
real  Nantz  ?  " 

"Nothing,  my  dear  friend;  you  forget 
the  hour,  not  to  speak  of  my  French  edu- 
cation." 

"Oh,  very  true,"  said  he.  "When  I 
was  m  the  Forty-fifth — "     When  he  had 


uttered  these  words,  he  stopped  suddenly, 
hesitated,  and  stammered,  and  at  last,  fair- 
ly overcome  with  confusion,  he  unfolded  a 
huge  pocket-handkerchief,  and  blew  his 
nose  with  the  sound  of  a  cavalry-trumpet, 
while  he  resumed.  "We  had  a  habit  in 
the  old  Forty-fifth — a  deuced  bad  one,  I 
confess — of  a  mess  breakfast,  that  began 
after  parade,  and  always  ran  into  luncheon 
— But,  hush  !  here  she  comes,"  cried  he, 
in  evident  delight  at  the  interruption  so 
opportunely  arriving  ;  then,  springing  up, 
he  threw  open  the  door,  and  called  out  : 
"  I  say,  Anna  Maria,  you'll  notguess  who's 
here  ?*" 

Either  the  ascent  of  the  steep  stair  called 
for  all  the  lady's  spare  lungs,  or  the  ques- 
tion had  little  interest  for  her,  as  she  cer- 
tainly made  no  reply  whatever,  but  contin- 
ued to  mount,  step  by  step,  with  that 
plodding,  monosyllabic  pace  one  falls  into 
at  the  highest  of  six  flights. 

"No,"  cried  he  aloud — "no,  you're 
wrong — it  is  not  Lauderdale."  Then,  turn- 
ing toward  me,  with  a  finger  to  his  nose, 
he  added,  with  pantomimic  action,  "  She 
thinks  you  are  Yarmouth.  Wrong  again, 
by  Jove  !  What  do  you  say  to  Tom  Burke 
— Burke  of  'Ours,'  as  I  used  to  call  him 
long  ago  ?  " 

By  this  time  Miss  Bubbleton  had  reached 
the  door,  and  was  holding  the  handle  to 
recover  her  breath  after  the  fatigue  of  the 
ascent.  Even  in  that  momentary  glance, 
however,  I  recognized  her.  Nothing  altered 
by  time,  she  was  the  same  crabbed,  cross- 
grained-looking  personage  I  remembered 
years  before.  She  carried  a  little  basket 
on  her  arm,  of  which  her  brother  hastened 
to  relieve  her,  and.  showed  no  little  concern 
to  remove  out  of  sight.  Being  divested  of 
this,  she  held  out  her  hand,  and  saluted 
me  with  more  cordiality  than  I  looked  for. 
Scarcely  had  our  greetings  been  exchanged, 
when  Bubbleton  broke  in — 

"I  have  told  him  everything,  Anna 
Maria.  He  knows  the  whole  affair  ;  no  use 
in  boring  him  with  any  more.  I  say,  isn't 
he  grown  prodigiously,  and  a  captain  al- 
ready— just  think  of  that." 

"And  so,  sir,  you've  heard  of  the  sad 
predicament  his  folly  has  brought  us  in- 
to ?" 

"  Hush  !  hush  !  Anna  Maria,"  cried 
Bubbleton;  " no  nonsense,  old  girl.  Burke 
will  put  all  to  rights  ;  he's  aide-de-camp 
to  Murat,  and  dines  with  him  every  dav — 
eh,  Tom  ?  " 

"  What  if  he  be  ?  "  interrupted  the  lady, 
without  permitting  me  time  to  disclaim  the 
honor.      "  How  can  he  ever — " 

"  I  tell  you,  it's  all  arranged  between  us  ; 


508 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


and  don't  make  a  fuss  aboui  nothing. 
You'll  only  make  bad  worse,  as  you  always 
do.  Come,  Tom,  the  secret  is,  I  shall  be 
ruined  if  I  don't  get  back  to  England  soon. 
Heaven  knows  who  receives  my  dividends 
all  this  time.  Then,  thai  confounded  tin 
mine,  they've  mismanaged  the  thing  so 
much,  I  haven't  received  live  hundred 
pounds  from  Cornwall  since  this  time 
twelve  months." 

''That  you  haven't,"  said  the  lady,  as 
with  clasped  hands  and  eyes  fixed,  she  sat 
staring  at  the  little  stove,  with  the  stern 
stoicism  of  a  martyr. 

"  She  knows  that,"  said  Bubbleton,  with 
a  nod,  as  if  grateful  for  even  so  much  tes- 
timony in  his  favor.  "And  as  for  that 
scoundrel,  Thistle th wait,  the  West  India 
agent,  I've  a  notion  he's  broke  ;  not  a  shil- 
ling from  him  either." 

"  Not  sixpence,"  echoed  the  lady. 

"You  hear  that,"  cried  he,  overjoyed  at 
the  concurrence.  "  And  the  fact  is — you 
will  smile  when  I  tell  you,  but  upon  my 
honor  it's  true — I  am  actually  hard  up  for 
cash." 

The  idea  tickled  him  so  much,  and  seemed 
so  ludicrous  withal,  that  he  fell  back  on  the 
sofa,  and  laughed  till  the  tears  ran  down 
his  face.  Not  so  Miss  Bubbleton  ;  her 
grim  face. grew  more  fixed,  every  feature 
hardened,  as  if  becoming  stone,  while  gradu- 
ally a  sneer  curled  her  thin  lip,  but  she 
never  spoke  a  word. 

"  I'll  not  speak  of  the  annoyance  of  being 
out  of  England,  nor  the  loss  of  influence  a 
man  sustains  after  a  long  absence,"  said 
Bubbleton,  as  he  paced  the  room  with  his 
hands  deep  thrust  in  his  dressing-gown 
pockets.  "  These  are  things  one  can  feel, 
and  as  for  me,  they  weigh  more  on  my 
mind  than  mere  money  considerations." 

"  But,  general,"  said  I — 

"  General ! "  echoed  the  lady,  with  a 
start  round,  and  holding  up  both  her 
hands.  "  General  !  You  haven't  beea  such 
a  fool — it's  not  possible  you  could  be  such  a 
fool—" 

"Will  you  please  to  be  quiet?  old 
damsel,"  said  Bubbleton,  with  more  of 
harshness  than  he  had  yet  used  in  his  man- 
ner. "Can  you  persuade  yourself  to  mind 
your  own  household  concerns,  and  leave 
George  Frederick  Augustus  Bubbleton  to 
manage  his  own  matters  as  he  deems 
best  ?  " 

Here  he  turned  short  round  toward  me, 
and  throwing  up  his  eyebrows  to  their  full 
height,  he  touched  his  forehead  knowingly 
with  the  tip  of  his  fore-finger,  and  uttered 
the  words,  "  You  understand — poor  thing  !" 
concluding  the    pantomime    with  a  deep 


sigh  ii'im  the  bottom  of  his  chest,  while  he 
added  something  in  a  low  whisper  about 
"a  fall  from  an  elephant  when  she  was  a 
child." 

"Mr.  Burke,  will  you  listen  to  me?" 
said  the  lady,  with  an  energy  of  voice  and 
manner  there  was  no  gainsaying — "listen 
tome  for  five  minutes,  and  probably,  short 
as  the  tune  is,  I  may  he  able  to  put  you  in 
possession  of  a  few  plain  facts  concerning 
our  position,  and  if  you  have  the  inclina- 
tion and  the  power  to  serve  us,  you  may 
then  know  how  best  it  can  be  done." 

Bubbleton  made  me  a  sign  to  gratify  her 
desire  of  loquaciousness,  while  with  a  most 
expressive  shrug  he  intimated  that  I  should 
probably  hear  a  very  incoherent  statement. 
This  done,  he  lighted  his  meerschaum, 
wrapped  his  ragged  robe  cle  cliavibre  around 
him,  and  lay  down  full  length  on  the  sofa, 
with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had  fortified 
himself  to  undergo  any  sacrifices  that  might 
be  demanded  at  his  hands,  taking  care  the 
while  to  assume  his  position  in  such  a  man- 
ner that  he  could  exchange  glances  with 
me  without  his  being  observed  by  his  sister. 

"  We  came  over,  Mr.  Burke,  only  a  few 
months  before  the  war  broke  out,  and  like 
the  rest  of  our  countrymen  and  women, 
were  made  detenus.  ;  This  was  bad  enough, 
but  my  .wise  brother  made  it  far  worse  ;  for 
instead  of  giving  his  name,  With  his  real 
rank  and  position,  he  would  call  himself  a 
lieutenant-general,  affect  to  have  immense 
wealth,  and  great  political  influence.  The 
consequence  was,  when  others  were  ex- 
changed and  sent  home,  his  name  not  being 
discoverable  in  any  English  list,  was  passed 
over  ;  while  his  assumed  fortune  involved 
us  in  every  expense  and  extravagance,  and 
his  mock  importance  made  us  the  object  of 
the  secret  police,  who  never  ceased  to  watch 
and  spy  after  us." 

"Capital,  excellent,  by  Jove!"  cried 
Bubbleton,  as  he  rolled  forth  a  long  curl  of 
blue  smoke  from  the  angle  of  his  mouth — 
"  she's  admirable  !  " 

"  I  ought  to  have  told  you  before,"  said 
the  lady,  not  paying  the  least  attention  to 
his  interruption,  "  that  lie  was  obliged  to 
sell  out  of  the  Forty-fifth  ;  a  certain  Mr. 
Montague  Crofts,  whom  you  may  remember, 
having  won  every  shilling  he  possessed,  even 
to  the  sale  of  his  commission.  This  was 
the  cause  of  our  coming  abroad  ;  so  that  at 
the  very  moment  that  he  was  giving  him- 
self these  airs  of  pretended  greatness,  we 
were  ruined." 

"Upon  my  life,  she  believes  all  that," 
whispered  Bubbleton,  with  a  wink  at  me. 
"  Poor  old  thing  !  I  must  get  Larry  to 
look  at  her." 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


509 


"Happily,  or  unhappily — who  shall  say 
which  Y — there  was  a  greater  fool  even  than 
himself  in  the  village,  and  he  was  the 
'maire.'  This  wise  functionary  became 
alarmed  at  the  piles  of  papers  and  rolls  of 
manuscripts  that  were  seen  about  our 
rooms,  and  equally  suspicious  about  the 
dark  hints  and  mysterious  innuendoes  he 
threw  out  from  time  to  time.  The  prefet 
was  informed  of  it,  and  the  result  was,  an 
order  for  our  removal  to  Pans.  Here  then 
we  are,  with  what  destiny  before  us  who 
shall  tell  ?  for,  as  he  still  persists  in  his 
atrocious  nonsense,  and  calls  himself  major- 
general — " 

"Lieutenant-general,  my  dear,"  said 
Bubbleton,  mildly  ;  "  I  never  was  major- 
general.*' 

"Is  it  not  too  bad  ?"  said  she,  "could 
any  patience  endure  this  ?  " 

"  Don't  he  violent — take  care,  Anna 
Maria,"  said  he,  rebukmgly.  "Potts  said 
I  should  use  restraint  again,  if  you  showed 
any  return  of  the  paroxysm.  That's  the 
way  she  takes  it,"  said  he,  in  a  low  whisper, 
"  with  a  blinking  about  the  eyes  and  a  pat- 
tering of  the  feet.  Bathe  your  temples, 
dear,  and  you'll  be  better  presently." 

Anna  Maria  sat  still,  not  uttering  a 
word  ;  and  actually  fearing  by  a  gesture 
to  encourage  a  commentary  on  her  man- 
ner. 

"  Scmetimes  she'll  mope  for  hours," 
muttered  he  in  my  ear  :  "at  others,  she's 
furious — there's  no  saying  how  it  will  turn. 
You  wouldn't  like  a  pipe  ? — I  forgot  to  ask 
you." 

"  And  worst  than  all,  sir,"  said  the  lady, 
as  if  no  longer  able  to  restrain  her  temper, 
"he  is  supposed  to  be  a  spy  of  the  police. 
I  heard  it  myself  this  morning." 

"  Eh  —  what !  "  exclaimed  Bubbleton, 
jumping  up  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight.  "  A 
spy  !  By  Jove  !  I  knew  it.  Lord  !  what 
fellows  they  are,  these  French  ;  not  two 
days  here  yet,  and  they  discovered  I  was  no 
common  man — eh,  Burke  ?  Maybe  I  hav'n't 
frightened  them,  my  boy.  It's  not  every 
one  would  create  such  a  sensation,  let  me 
tell  you — I  knew  I'd  do  it." 

Miss  Bubbleton  looked  at  him  for  an 
instant  with  a  sneer  of  the  most  withering 
contempt,  and  then  rising  abruptly,  left 
the  room  ;  but  the  general  little  cared  for 
such  evidences  of  her  censure  :  he  danced 
about  the  room,  snapping  his  fingers, 
and  chuckling  with  self-satisfaction — the 
thought  of  being  believed  to  be  a  police 
spy  giving  him  the  most  intense  and  heart- 
felt pleasure. 

"She  has  moments,  Tom,  when  she's 
downright  clear — you'd  not  think  it,   but 


sometimes  she's  actually  shrewd  ;  you  saw 
how  she  hit  upon  that." 
■  "'Would  that  her  brother  was  favored 
with  some  of  these  lucid  intervals,"  was 
the  thought  that  ran  through  my  head  at 
the  moment ;  for  I  knew  better  than  he  did 
how  needful  a  clearer  brain  and  sharper 
faculties  than  his  would  be  to  escape  the 
snares  his  folly  and  vanity  were  spreading 
around  him. 

".Shall  we  make  a  morning  call  at  our 
friend  the  countess's,  Tom?"  said  Bub- 
bleton. "  She  told  me  she  received  every 
day  about  this  hour." 

I  felt  nowise  disposed  for  the  visit  ;  and 
so,  having  engaged  my  friend  to  dine  with 
me  at  the  Luxembourg  the  next  day,  we 
parted. 

.  As  I  sauntered  homeward,  I  was  sur- 
prised how  difficult  I  found  it  to  disabuse 
my  mind  of  the  absurd  insinuations  Bub- 
bleton had  thrown  out  against  his  sister's 
sanity;  for,  though  well  knowing  his  fond- 
ness for  romance,  and  his  taste  for  embel- 
lishment on  every  occasion,  I  yet  could  not 
get  rid  of  the  impression  that  her  oddity 
of  manner  might  only  be  another  feature 
of  eccentricity  just  as  extravagant,  but 
differing  in  its  tendencies  from  his  own. 

To  assist  him,  whose  kindness  to  myself 
of  old  I  never  ceased  to  remember  with 
gratitude,  was  my  firm  resolve ;  but  to 
ascertain  his  exact  position  was  all-essential 
for  this  purpose,  and  I  could  not  help  say- 
ing, half  aloud,  "If  I  had  but  Duchesne 
here  now." 

"Speak  of  the  devil,  mon  ayni,"  said  he, 
drawing  his  arm  within  mine,  while  I  was 
scarcely  able  to  avoid  a  cry  of  astonishment. 
"  Where  do  you  dine  to-day,  Burke  ?  "  said 
he,  in  his  quiet,  easy  tone. 

"  But  where  did  you  come  from,  Du- 
chesne ?     Are  you  long  here  ?" 

"Answer  my  question  first.  Can  you 
dine  with  me  ?" 

"To  be  sure — with  pleasure." 

"  Then  meet  me  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue 
des  Trois  Totes,  at  six  o'clock,  and  I'll  be 
your  guide  afterward.  This  is  my  way 
now.     Au  revoir." 


CHAPTER    LXIII. 


THE    "  MOISSON    u'OR." 


When  I  arrived  at  the  rendezvous,  I 
found  Duchesne  already  awaiting  me  with 
a  carriage,  into  which  we  stepped  and  drove 
rapidly  away. 

"  A  man   of  your   word,    Burke  ;    and. 


510 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


what  is  scarcely  less  valuable  in  the  times 
we  live  in,  a  man  of  prudence  too." 

"As  how  the  latter,  may  1  ask  ?"    * 

"You  have  not  come  in  uniform,  which 
is  all  the  better,  where  we  are  going;  be- 
sides, it  gives  me  the  hope  of  presenting 
you  to  my  respected  aunt,  the  Duehesse  de 
Montserrat,  who  will  take  your  black  coat 
as  a.  compliment  to  the  whole  Bourbon 
dynasty.  Yon  must  come  with  me  there, 
if  it  only  be  for  half  an  hour.  And  now 
tell  me,  have  you  ever  dined  at  the  '  Mois- 
son  d'Or  ?" 

"Never — not  even  heard  of  the  house." 

"Well,  then,  you  shall  to-day;  and 
meanwhile  I  may  tell  you,  that  although 
in  a  remote  and  little-visited  quarter  of 
Paris,  it  stands  unrivaled  for  the  excel- 
lence of  its  fare,  and  the  rare  dcljcacy  of 
its  wines — a  reputation  not  of  yesterday, 
but  of  some  years'  standing.  Nor  is  that 
the  only  thing  remarkable  about  it,  as  I 
shall  explain  hereafter.  But  come — how 
are  your  friends  at  the  Hotel  CHchy  ?  and 
how  fares  your  suit  with   Mademoiselle  ?  " 

"My  suit?  it  never  was  such.  You 
know,  to  the  full  as  well  as  I  do,  my  pre- 
tensions aspired  not  half  so  high." 

"  So  much  the  better,  and  so  much  the 
worse.  I  mean  the  former  for  me,  as  I 
hate  to  have  a  friend  for  a  rival  ;  the  latter 
for  you,  who  ought  to  have  learned  by  this 
time  that  a  handsome  girl  and  a  million  of 
francs  are  more  easily  won  than  a  cross  of 
the  Legion,  or  a  colonel's  epaulette." 

"And  are  you  serious,  Duchesne  ?  Have 
you  really  intentions  in  that  quarter  ?  " 

"  Morbleu!  to  be  sure  I  have.  It  is  for 
that  I'm  here  m  Paris  in  the  dog-days — 
traveled  one  hundred  and  twenty  leagues — 
ay,  and  more,  too,  have  brought  with  me  my 
most  aristocratic  aunt,  who  never  remem- 
bers in  her  life  to  have  seen  full-grown 
leaves  in  the  Tuileries  gardens.  I  knew 
what  an  ally  she  would  be  in  the  negotia- 
tion, and  so  I  managed,  through  some 
friends  in  the  bureau  of  the  minister,  to 
give  her  a  rare  fright  about  an  estate  of 
hers,  which  by  some  accident  escaped  con- 
fiscation in  the  Revolution,  and  which 
nothing  but  the  greatest  efforts  on  .  her 
part  could  now  rescue  from  the  fangs  of 
the  crown.  You  may  be  sure  she  is  not 
particularly  in  love  with  the  present  gov- 
ernment on  this  score  ;  but  the  trick  se- 
cures her  speaking  more  guardedly  than 
she  has  the  habit  of  doing,  besides  indu- 
cing her  to  make  acquaintances  nothing 
but  such  a  threat  would  accomplish." 

"You  intend,  then,  she  should  know] 
Madame  de  Lacostellerie  ?" 

"Of  course.     I  have  already  persuaded 


her  that  the  Hotel  CHchy  is  the  pivot  of 
all  Tans,  and  that  nothing  but  consum- 
mate tact  and  management  on  her  part 
will  succeed  there." 

"  But  I  scarcely  thought  you  cared  for 
mademoiselle,  and  never  dreamed  of  your 
proposing  to  marry  her." 

"Nor  I,  till  about  a  week  ago.  How- 
ever, my  plans  require  money,  and  would 
not  be  incumbered  by  my  having  a  wife.  J 
see  nothing  better  at  the  moment,  and  so 
my  mind  is  soon  made  up.  But  here  we 
are  ;  this  is  our  resting-place." 

The  "Moisson  d'Or,"  although  not 
known  to  me,  was  then  the  most  celebrated 
place  for  dining  in  Paris.  The  habits  of 
the  house,  for* there  was  no  "table  d'hote." 
required  that  everything  should  be  ordered 
beforehand,  and  the  parties  all  dined  sep- 
arately. The  expensive  habits  and  extrav- 
agant prices  secured  its  frequenters  from 
meeting  the  class  who  usually  dine  at  res- 
taurants ;  and  this  gave  it  a  vogue  among 
the  wealthy  and  titled,  whose  equipages 
now  thronged  the  street,  and  rilled  the 
"porte  eochere."  I  had  but  time  to  rec- 
ognize the  face  of  one  of  the  marshals  and 
a  minister  of  state,  as  we  pushed  our  way 
through  the  court,  and  entered  a  small 
pavilion  beyond  it. 

"I'll  join  you  in  an  instant,"  said  Du- 
chesne, as  he  left  the  room  hastily  after 
the  waiter.  In  a  couple  of  minutes  he  was 
back  again.  "  Come  along,  it's  all  right," 
said  he.  "I  wish  to  show  you  a  corner  of 
the  old  house  that  only  the  privileged  ever 
see,  and  we  are  fortunate  in  finding  it  un- 
occupied. " 

We  recrossed  the  court,  and  mounted  a 
large  oak  stair  to  a  corridor,  winch  con- 
ducted us,  by  three  sides  of  a  quadrangle, 
to  a  smaller  stair,  nearly  perpendicular. 
At  the  top  of  this,  a  strong  door,  barred 
and  padlocked,  stood,  which,  being  opened, 
led  into  a  large  and  lofty  salon,  opening 
by  three  spacious  windows  on  a  terrace 
that  formed  the  roof  of  the  building: 
Some  citron  and  orange-trees  were  disposed 
tastefully  along  this,  and  filled  the  room 
with  their  fragrance. 

"Here,  Antoinc,  let  us  be  served  here," 
said  Duchesne  to  the  waiter;  "I  have  al- 
ready given  orders  about  the  dinner.  Ami 
now,  Burke,  come  out  here.  What  think 
you  of  that  view  ?  " 

Scarcely  had  I  set  foot  on  the  terrace, 
when  I  started  back  in  mingled  admiration 
and  amazement.  Beneath  us  lay  the  great 
city,  in  the  mellow  light  of  an  evening  in 
September.  Close,  so  close  as  actually  to 
startle,  was  the  large  dome  of  the  "  In- 
valides,"  shining  like  a  ball  of  molten  gold, 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


511 


the  great  court-yard  in  front  dotted  with 
figures;  beyond,  again,  was  the  Seine,  the 
surface  flashing  and  flickering  in  the  sun- 
light. I  traced  it  along  to  the  Pont  Neitf, 
and  then  ray  eye  rested  on.  Notre-Dame, 
whose  tall,  dark  towers  stood  out  against 
the  pinkish  sky,  while  the  deep-toned  bell 
boomed  through  the  still  air.  I  turned  to- 
ward the  Tuileries,  and  could  see  the 
guard  of  honor  in  waiting  for  the  Em- 
peror's appearing.  In  the  gardens  hun- 
dreds were  passing  and  repassing,  or  stand- 
ing around  the  band,  which  played  in  front 
of  the  pavilion.  A  tide  of  population 
poured  across  the  bridges  and  down  the 
streets,  along  which  equipages  and  horse- 
men dashed  impetuously  onward.  There 
was  all  the  life  and  stir  of  a  mighty  city, 
its  sounds  dulled  by  distance,  but  blended 
into  one  hoarse  din,  like  the  far-off  sea  at 
night. 

"You  don't  know,  Burke,  that  this  was 
a  favorite  resort  of  the  courtiers  of  the  last 
reign.  The  gay  young  'Gardes  du  Corps,' 
the  gallant  youths  of  the  royal  household, 
constantly  dined  here.  The  terrace  we 
now  stand  on  once  held  a  party  who  came 
at  the  invitation  of  no  less  a  personage  than 
him  whom  men  call  Louis  XVIII.  It  was 
a  freak  of  the  time  to  pronounce  the  Court 
dinners  execrable  ;  and  they  even  go  so  far 
as  to  say  that  Marie  Antoinette  herself 
once  planned  a  party  here — but  this  I  can- 
not vouch  for." 

At  this  moment  Duchesne  was  inter- 
rupted  by  the  entrance  of  the  waiters,  who 
came  to  serve  the  dinner.  I  had  not  a  i 
moment  left  to  admire  the  beauty  and  i 
richness  of  the  antique  silver  dishes  which  j 
covered  the  table,  when  a  gentle  tap  at  the  j 
door  attracted  my  attention. 

"  Ha!  Jacotot  himself !  "  said  Duchesne, 
as,  rising  hastily,  he  advanced  to  meet  the 
new  arrival.  lie  was  a  tall,  thin  old  man, 
much  stooped  by  years,  but  with  an  air 
and  carriage  distinctly  well  bred  ;  his  white 
hair,  brushed  rigidly  back,  fastened  into  a 
queue  behind,  and  his  lace  "jabot"  and 
ruffles  bespoke  him  as  the  remnant  of  a 
date  long  past.  His  coat  was  blue,  of  a 
shade  somewhat  lighter  than  is  usually 
worn.  He  also  wore  large  buckles  on  his 
shoes,  whose  brilliancy  left  no  doubt  of 
their  real  value.  Bowing  with  great  cere- 
mony, he  advanced  slowly  into  the  room. 

"You  are  come  to  dine  with  us  —  is  it 
not  so,  Jacotot  ? "  said  Duchesne,  as  he 
still  held  his  hand. 

"Excuse  me,  my  dear  chevalier  —  the 
Count  de  Chambord  and  Edouard  de 
Courcelles  are  below — I  have  promised  to 
join  them." 


"  And  is  Courcelles  here  ?  " 
"Yes,"  said  the  old  man,   with  a  timid 
glance  toward  where  I  sat,  and  a  look  as  if 
imploring  caution  and  reserve. 

"Oh.  fear  nothing  —  and  that  reminds 
me  I  have  not  presented  my  friend  and 
brother  officer — Captain  Burke.  Monsieur 
Jacotot.  You  may  feel  assured,  Jacotot,  I 
make  no  mistake  in  the  friends  I  introduce 
here. " 

The  old  man  gave  a  smile  of  pleasure, 
while,  turning  to  me,  he  said  : 

"lie  is  discretion  itself;  and  I  am  but 
too  happy  to  make  your  acquaintance. 
And  now,  chevalier,  one  word  with  you." 
He  retreated  toward  the  door,  holding 
Duchesne's  arm,  and  whispering  as  he 
went,  Duchesne's  face,  however,  expressed 
his  impatience  as  he  spoke,  and  at  last  he 
said  : 

"As  you  please,  my  worthy  friend — I 
always  submit  to  your  wiser  counsels  ;  so 
farewell  for  the  present." 

He  looked  after  the  old  man  as  he  slowly 
descended  the  stairs,  and  then  closing  the 
door,  and  locking  it,  he  exclaimed  : 

"Parbleu  !  I  found  it  very  hard  to  listen 
to  his  prosing  with  even  a  show  of  patience, 
and  was  half  tempted  to  tell  him  that  the 
Bourbons  could  wait,  though  the  soup  could 
not." 

"Then  Monsieur  Jacotot  is  a  royalist,  I 
presume  ?  " 

"  Ay,  that  he  is  ;  and  so  are  all  they  who 
frequent  this  house.  Doirt  start— tlie  po- 
lice know  it  well,  and  no  one  is  more 
amused  at  their  absurd  plottings  and  con- 
spirings  than  Fouche  himself.  Xow  and 
then,  to  be  sure,  some  fool,  more  rash  and 
brainless  than  the  others,  will  come  up  from 
La  Vendee,  and  try  to  knock  his  head 
against  the  walls  of  the  Temple,  like  De 
Courcelles  there,  who  has  no  other  business 
in  Paris  except  to  be  guillotined,  if  it  were 
worth  the  trouble.  Then  the  minister  af- 
fects to  stir  himself,  and  be  on  the  alert, 
just  to  terrify  -them  ;  but  he  well  knows 
that  danger  lurks  not  m  this  quarter.  Be- 
lieve me,  Burke,  the  present  rulers  of 
France  have  no  greater  security  than  in  the 
contemptible  character  of  all  their  oppo- 
nents. There  is  no  course  for  a  man  of 
energy  and  courage  to  adopt.  But  I  ask 
your  pardon,  my  dear  friend,  for  this  trea- 
sonable talk.  What  think  you  of  the  din- 
ner ? — the  royalists  would  never  have  fallen 
if  they  had  understood  government  as  *vell 
as  cuisine.  Taste  that  supreme,  and  say  if 
you  don't  regret  the  Capets — a  feeling  you 
can  indulge  the  more  freely  because  you 
never  knew  them." 

"I  cannot  comprehend,  Duchesne,  what 


512 


C'/IA  R  L ES  LE  VERS  WO RKS. 


are  the  grievances  you  charge  againsl  the 
present  governmenl  of  France.  Had  you 
been  an  old  courtier  of  the  last  reign — a 
hanger-on  of  Versailles  or  the  Tuil 
the  thiag  were  intelligible  ;  but  you,  a  sol- 
dier, a  man  of  daring  and  enterprise — " 

"Let  me  interrupt  you.  1  am  so,  only 
because  it  is  the  taste  of  the  day  ;  but  I 
despise  the  parade  of  military  glory  we  have 
got  into  t  In*  habit  of.  I  prefer  the  period 
when 'a  mot  did  as  much  and  more  than  a 
discharge  of  mitraille,  and  men's  esprit  and 
talent  succeeded  better  than  a  strong  sword- 
arm  or  a  seat  on  horseback.  There  were 
gentlemen  in  France  once,  my  dear  Burke 
— ay,  piirhlvii !  and  ladies  too.  Not  mar- 
chionesses of  the  drum-head,  nor  count- 
esses of  the  bivouac ;  but  women  in  whom 
birth  heightened  beauty— whose  loveliness 
had  the  added  charm  of  high  descent  beam- 
ing from  their  bright  eyes,  and  sitting 
throned  on  their  lofty  brows — before  whom 
our  moustached  marshals  had  stood  trem- 
bling and  ashamed — these  men  who  lounge 
so  much  at  ease  in  the  salons  of  the  Tuile- 
ries  !  Let  me  help  you  to  this  salmi,  it  is 
a  la  Louis  Quinzc,  and  worthy  of  the  Re- 
gency itself.  Well,  then,  a  glass  of  Bur- 
gundy." 

"  Your  friend  Monsieur  Jacotot  seems 
somewhat  of  an  original,"  said  I,  half  desi- 
rous to  change  a  topic  which  I  always  felt 
an  unpleasant  one. 

"  You  are  not  wrong — he  is  so.  Jacotot 
is  a  thorough  Frenchman  ;  at  least,  he  has 
had  the  fortune  to  mix  up  in  his  destiny 
those  extremes  of  elevated  sentiment  and 
absurdity  which  go  very  far  to  compose  the 
life  of  my  good  countrymen.  I  must  tell 
you  a  short  anecdote — But  shall  we  ad- 
journ to  the  terrace  ?  for,  to  prevent  the 
interruption  of  servants,  I  have  ordered  our 
dessert  there." 

This  was  a  most  agreeable  proposal  ;  and 
so,  having  seated  ourselves  in  a  little  arbor 
of  orange-shrubs,  with  the  view  of  the  river 
and  the  palace  gardens  beneath  us,  Du- 
chesne thus  began  : 

"  I  am  going  somewhat  far  back  in  his- 
tory, but  have  no  fears  on  that  head, 
Burke  ;  my  story  is  a  very  brief  one.  There 
was,  once  upon  a  time,  in  France,  a  mon- 
arch of  some  repute,  called  Louis  the  Four- 
teenth ;  a  man,  if  fame  be  not  unjust,  who 
possessed  the  most  kingly  qualities  of  which 
we  have  any  record  in  books.  He  was 
brave,  munificent,  high-minded,  ardent, 
selfish,  cruel,  and  ungrateful,  beyond  any 
other  man  in  his  own  dominions  ;  and,  like 
people  with  such  gifts,  he  had  the  good 
fortune  to  attach  men  to  him  just  as  firmly 
and  devotedly  as  though  he  was  not  in  his 


heart  devoid  of  every  principle  of  friend- 
ship and  affection.  1  need  nol  tell  yon 
what  the  ladies  of  his  reign  thought  of  him 
-•-my  present  business  is  with  the  ruder 
sex.  Among  the  courtiers  of  the  day  was 
a  certain  Vicomte  Arnoud  de< rencj  ,a  young 
man  who,  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  won  his 
grade  of  colonel  at  the  siege  of  Besancon 
by  an  act  of  coolness  and  courage  worthy 
recording.  He  deliberately  advanced  into 
one  of  the  breaches,  and  made  a  .ketch  of 
the  interior  works  of  the  fori  ideation,  while 
the  enemy's  shot  was  tearing  up  the  ground 
around  him.  When  the  deed  was  reported 
to  the  king,  he  interrupted  the  relation, 
saying : 

"  '  Don't  tell  me  who  did  this,  for  I  have 
made  De  Gency  a  colonel  for  it.'  So  rap- 
idly did  Louis  guess  the  author  of  so  daring 
a  feat. 

"  From  that  hour,  the  young  colonel's 
fortune  was  made.  He  was  appointed  one 
of  the  gentlemen  of  the  chamber  to  his 
majesty,  and  distinguished  by  almost  daily 
marks  of  royal  intimacy.  His  qualities 
eminently  fitted  him  for  the  tone  of  the  so- 
ciety he  lived  in — he  was  a  most  witty  con- 
verser,  a  good  musician,  and  had,  more- 
over, a  very  handsome  person — gifts  not 
undervalued  at  Saint  Germain. 

"Such  were  his  social  qualities  ;  and  so 
thoroughly  did  he  understand  the  king's 
humor,  that  even  La  Valliere  herself  saw 
the  necessity  of  retaining  him  at  the  Court, 
and,  in  fact,  made  a  confidant  of  him  on 
several  occasions  of  difficulty.  Still,  with 
all  these  favors  of  fortune — when  the  object 
of  envy  to  almost  all  the  rest  of  the  house- 
hold— Arnoud  de  Gency  was  suffering  in 
his  heart  one  of  the  most  trying  afflictions 
that  can  befall  a  proud  man  so  placed — he 
was  in  actual  poverty,  in  want  so  pressing, 
that  all  the  efforts  he  could  make,  all  the 
contrivances  he  could  practice,  were  barely 
sufficient  to  prevent  his  misery  being  pub- 
lic. The  taste  for  splendor  in  dress  and 
equipage  which  characterized  the  period 
had  greatly  injured  his  private  fortune, 
while  the  habit  of  liigh  play,  which  Louis 
encouraged,  and  liked  to  see  about  him, 
completed  his  ruin.  The  salary  of  his  ap- 
pointments was  merely  enough  to  maintain 
his  daily  expenditure,  and  thus  was  he, 
with  p  breaking  heart,  obliged  not  only  to 
mix  in  all  the  reckless  gayety  and  frivolity 
of  that  voluptuous  Court,  but,  still  more, 
tax  his  talents  and  his  energies  for  new 
themes  of  pleasure- — fresh  sources  of  amuse- 
ment. 

"  Worn  out  at  length  by  the  long  struggle 
between  his  secret  sorrow  and  his  pride,  ne 
resolved  to  appeal  to  the  king,  and,  in  a 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


6Va 


few  words,  tell  his  majesty  the  straits  to 
which  he  was  reduced,  and  implore  his 
protection.  To  this  he  was  impelled  not 
solely  on  his  own  account,  but  on  that  also 
of  his  only  child,  a  boy  of  eight  or  nine 
years  old,  whose  mother  died  in  giving  him 
birth. 

"  An  occasion  soon  presented  itself.  The 
king  had  given  orders  for  a  hunting-party 
at  St.  Cloud,  and,  at  an  early  hour  of  the 
morning,  De  Gency,  in  his  hunting-dress, 
took  up  his  position  in  one  of  the  ante- 
chambers through  which  the  king  must 
pass — not  alone,  however — at  his  side  there 
stood  a  lovely  boy,  also  dressed  in  the 
costume  of  the  chase.  He  wore  a  velvet 
doublet  of  green,  slashed  with  gold,  and 
ornamented  by  a  broad  belt,  from  which 
hung  his  couteau  de  chasse ;  even  to  the 
falcon  feather  in  his  cap,  nothing  was  for- 
gotten. 

"  He  had  not  waited  long  when  the 
folding-doors  were  thrown  wide,  and  a 
moment  after  Louis  appeared,  accompanied 
by  a  single  attendent,  the  Marquis  de 
Verneuil,  unhappily  one  of  the  very  few 
enemies  Arnoud  possessed  in  the  world. 

"  'Ah  !  De  Gency,  you  here  ?'  said  the 
King,  gayly.  'They  told  me  "brelan" 
had  been  unfavorable  lately,  and  that  we 
should  not  see  you.' 

"'It  is  true,  sire,' said  he,  with  a  sad 
effort  at  a  smile  ;  '  it  is  only  on  your  majesty 
fortune  always  smiles.' 

"  '  Pardieu  !  you  must  not  say  so — I 
lost  a  rouleau  last  night.  But  whom  have 
we  here  ? ' 

"  'My  son,  so  please  you,  sire,  my  only 
son,  who  desires,  at  an  earlier  age  than 
even  his  father  did,  to  serve  your  majesty.' 

"  '  How  like  his  mother  ! '  said  the  King, 
pushing  back  the  fair  ringlets  from  the 
boy's  forehead,  and  gazing  almost  fondly 
on  his  handsome  features — '  how  like  her  ! 
She  was  a  Courcelles  ? ' 

"  '  She  was,  sire,'  said  Arnoud,  as  the 
tears  fell  on  his  cheek  and  coursed  slowly 
along  his  face. 

"  '  And  you  want  something  for  him  ? ' 
said  the  King,  resuming  his  wonted  tone, 
while  he  busied  himself  with  his  sword- 
knot  ;  '  is  it  not  so  ? ' 

"  '  If  I  might  dare  to  ask — ' 

"  'Assuredly  you  may.  The  thing  is, 
what  can  we  do  ?     Eh,  Verneuil,  what  say 


you 


?     He  is  but  an  infant.' 


"  'True,  sire,'  replied  the  Marquis,  with 
a  look  of  respect,  in  which  the  most  subtle 
could  not  discover  a  trait  of  his  sarcastic 
nature  ',  'but  there  is  a  place  vacant.' 

"  'Ah,  indeed,'  said  the  King,  quickly. 
'What  is  it?     He  shall  have  it.' 
vol.  i—33 


"  '  Monsieur  Jacotot,  your  majesty's  head 
cook,  stands  in  need  of  a  turnspit,'  said  he, 
in  a  low  whisper,  only  audible  to  the  king. 

"'A  turnspit?'  said  the  King;  and 
scarcely  was  the  word  uttered  when,  as  if 
the  irony  was  his  own,  he  burst  into  a 
most  immoderate  fit  of  laughter,  an  emotion 
that  seemed  to  increase  as  he  endeavored  to 
repress  it,  when  at  the  instant  the  cor  de 
chasse,  then  heard  without,  gave  a  new 
turn  to  his  thoughts  ;  and  he  hurried  tor- 
ward  with  De  Verneuil,  leaving  De  Gency 
and  his  son  rooted  to  the  spot — indignant 
passion  in  that  heart  which  despair  and 
sorrow  had  almost  rendered  callous. 

''His  majesty  was  still  laughing  as  he 
mounted  his  barb  in  the  court-yard  ;  and 
the  courtiers,  like  well-bred  gentlemen, 
laughed  as  became  them,  with  that  low,  quiet 
laugh  which  is  the  meet  chorus  of  a  sove- 
reign's mirth,  when  suddenly  two  loud  re- 
ports, so  rapidly  following  on  each  other  as 
almost  to  seem  one,  startled  the  glittering 
cortege,  and  even  made  the  Arab  courser 
of  the  king  plunge  madly  in  the  air. 

"  '  Par  St.  Denis!  messieurs,'  said  Louis, 
passionately,  'this  pleasantry  of  yours  is 
ill  thought  of.     Who  has  dared  to  do  this  ?  ' 

"But  none  spoke.  A  terrified  look 
around  the  circle  was  the  only  reply  to  the 
king's  question,  when  a  page  rushed  for- 
ward, his  dress  spotted  and  blood-stained, 
his  face  pale  with  horror  : 

'"Your  majesty — ah,  sire?'  said  he, 
kneeling — but  sobs  choked  him,  and  he 
could  not  utter  more. 

"  '  What  is  this  ? — will  no  one  tell  ?  *  cried 
the  King,  as  a  frown  of  dark  omen  shadow- 
ed his  angry  features. 

" '  Your  majesty  has  lost  a  brave,  an 
honest,  and  a  faithful  follower,  sire,'  said 
Monsieur  de  Coulanges.  'Arnoud  de  Gency 
is  no  more.' 

"  '  Why,  I  saw  him  this  instant,'  said 
the  King.  '  He  asked  me  some  favor  for 
his  bo,y.' 

"'True,  sire,'  replied  De  Coulanges, 
mournfully ;  but  he  checked  himself  in 
time,  for  already  the  well-known  and  dread- 
ed expression  of  passion  had  mounted  to  the 
king's  face. 

"'Dismiss  the  "chasse"  gentlemen,' 
said  he,  in  a  low,  thick  voice  ;  '  and  dc  you, 
Monsieur  de  Verneuil,  attend  me.' 

"The  cortege  was  soon  scattered;  and 
the  Marquis  de  Verneuil  followed  the  king, 
with  an  expression  where  fear  and  dread 
were  not  to  be  mistaken. 

"Monsieur  de  Verneuil  did  indeed  seem 
an  altered  man  when  he  appeared  among 
his  friends  that  evening.  Whatever  the 
king  had  said  to  him  assuredly  had  worked 


514 


CHA  R L ES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


its  due  effect  ;  for  all  his  raillery  was  gone  ; 
and  even  the  veriest  tnfler  of  the  party 
might  have  dared  an  encounter  with  wits, 
which  then  were  subdued  and  broken. 
Next  morning,  however,  the  sun  shone  out 
brilliantly.  The  king  was  in  high  spirits, 
the  game  abounded  ,  and  his  majesty  with 
his  own  hand  brought  down  eight  phea- 
sants. The  Marquis  de  Verneuil  could  hit 
nothing  :  for,  although  the  best  marksman 
of  the  day,  his  hand  shook,  and  his  sight 
failed  him  :  and  the  king  won  fifty  lotus 
from  him  before  they  reached  Saint  Ger- 
main. 

"Never  was  there  a  happier  day,  nor 
followed  by  a  pleasahter  evening.  The 
king  supped  m  Madame  de  la  Valliere's 
apartment;  the  private  band  played  the 
most  delicious  airs  during  the  repast  ;  and 
when  at  length  the  party  retire:!  to  rest, 
not  one  bright  dream  was  clouded  by  the 
memory  of  Arnoud  de  Gency. 

"Here,  now,  were  I  merely  recounting 
an  anecdote,  I  should  stop,"  said  the  Che- 
valier, "  but  must  continue  a  little  longer, 
though  all  the  romance  of  my  story  is  over. 
The  Marquis  de  Verneuil  was  a  good  hater  ; 
even  poor  De  Gency's  fate  did  not  move 
him  ;  and  he  actually  did  do  what  he  had 
only  threatened  in  mockery — he  sent  the 
orphan  child  to  be  a  turnspit  m  the  royal 
kitchen.  Of  course  he  changed  his  name. 
The  title  of  an  old  and  honored  family 
would  soon  have  betrayed  the  foul  deed  ; 
and  the  boy  was  called  Jacotot,  after  the 
chef  himself.  The  king  inquired  no  further 
on  the  subject.  Arnoud's  name  recalled 
too  unpleasant  a  topic  for  the  lips  of  a 
courtier  ever  to  mention  ;  and  the  whole 
circumstance  was  soon  entirely  forgotten. 

"  This  same  Jacotot  was  the  grandfather 
of  my  old  friend,  whom  you  saw  a  few 
minutes  since.  Fate,  that  seems  to  jest 
with  men's  destinies,  made  them  as  success- 
ful at  the  fire  of  the  kitchen  as  ever  their 
ancestors  were  at  that  of  a  battery  •  and 
Monsieur  Jacotot,  our  present  host,  has  not 
his  equal  in  Pans.  Here  for  years  the 
younger  members  of  the  royal  family  used 
to  sup.  This  room  was  their  favorite 
apartment ;  and  one  evening  when,  at  a 
later  sitting  than  usual,  the  ruler  of  the 
feast  was  carried  beyond  himself  in  the 
praise  of  an  admirable  plat,  he  sent  for 
Jacotot,  and  told  him  whatever  favor  he 
should  ask  he  himself  would  seek  for  him 
at  the  hands  of  the  king. 

"This  was  the  long-wished-for  moment 
of  the  poor  fellow's  life.  He  drew  from 
Ins  bosom  the  title  deeds  of  his  ancient 
name  and  fortune,  and  placed  them  m  the 
pnnce's  hand  without  uttering  a  word. 


"'What!   and  are  you  a  De  Gency  r 
said  the  I'nnce. 

"'Alas!  1  shame  to  say  it,  I  am.' 

"  'Come,  gentlemen,1  .-aid  the  gay  young 
prince,  'a  bumper  to  our  worthy' friend, 
whom,  with  God's  blessing,  I  .-hall  see  re- 
stored right  soon  to  his  fitting  rank  and 
station.  Yes,  De  Gency,  my  word  upon  it, 
the  next  evening  I  sup  here  1  shall  bring 
with  me  his  majesty's  own  signature  to 
these  title-deeds.  Make  place,  gentlemen, 
and  let  him  sit  down.' 

"But  poor  Jacotot  was  too  much  excited 
by  his  feelings  of  joy  and  gratitude,  and.  he 
rushed  from  the  room  in  a  torrent  of  tears. 

"The  evening  the  prince  spoke  of  never 
came.  Soon  after  that  commenced  the 
troubles  to  the  royal  family — the  dreadful 
events  of  Versailles — the  flight  to  Varennes 
— the  10th  of  August — a  horrible  catalogue 
I  cannot  bear  to  trace.  There,  yonder, 
where  now  the  groups  are  loitering,  or  sit- 
ting around  in  happy  knots — there  died 
Louis  XVI.  The  prince  I  spoke  of  is  an 
exile.  They  call  him  Louis  XVIII.  ;  but 
he  is  a  king  without  a  kingdom. 

."But  Jacotot  lives  on  in  hope ;  he  has 
waded  through  all  the  terrors  of  the  Revo- 
lution ;  he  has  seen  the  guillotine  erected 
almost  before  his  door,  and  beheld  his  for- 
mer friends  led  one  by  one  to  the  slaughter. 
Twice  was  he  himself  brought  forth,  and 
twice  was  his  life  spared  by  some  admirer 
of  his  'cuisine.''  But,  perhaps,  all  his 
trials  were  inferior  to  the  heart-burning 
with  which  he  saw  the  places  once  occupied 
by  the  blood  of  St.  Louis  now  occupied  by 
the  '  canaille '  of  the  Revolution.  Marat 
and  Robespierre  frequented  his  house  ;  and 
Barras  seldom  passed  a  week  without  dining 
there.  This,  I  verily  believe,  was  a  heavier 
affliction  than  any  of  his  personal  suffer- 
ings ;  and  I  have  often  heard  him  recount, 
with  no  feigned  horror,  the  scenes  which 
took  place  among  the  '  incroyables,'  as  they 
called  themselves,  Avhose  orgies  he  contrast- 
ed so  unfavorably  with  the  more  polished 
excesses  of  his  regal  visitors.  Through  all 
the  anarchy  of  that  fearful  period — through 
the  scarce  less  sanguinary  time  of  the  Di- 
rectory— through  the  long,  dreary  oppres- 
sion of  the  Consulate — and  now,  in  the 
more  grinding  tyranny  of  the  Empire,  he 
hopes,  ay,  still  hopes  on,  that  the  day  will 
come,  when,  from  the  hands  of  the  king 
himself,  he  shall  receive  his  long-buried 
rank,  and  stand  forth  a  De  Gency.  Poor 
fellow,  there  is  something  noble  and  manly 
in  the  long  struggle  with  fortune — m  that 
long-sustained  contest,  in  which  he  would 
never  admit  defeat. 

"  Such  are  the  followers  of  the  Bourbons 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


515 


— their  best  traits,  their  highest  daring, 
their  most  long-suffering  endurance,  only 
elicited  in  the  pursuit  of  some  paltry  object 
of  personal  ambition.  They  have  tasted 
the  cup  of  adversity,  ay,  drained  it  to  the 
very  dregs ;  they  have  seen  carnage  and 
bloodshed  such  as  no  war  ever  surpassed  ; 
and  all  they  have  learned  by  experience  is, 
to  wish  for  the  long-past  days  of  royal 
tyranny  and  frivolity  back  again,  to  see  a 
glittering  swarm  of  debauchees  fluttering 
around  a  sensualist  king,  and  to  watch  the 
famished  faces  of  the  multitude  without 
a  thought  that  the  tiger  is  only  waiting 
for  his  spring.  As  to  a  thought  of  true 
liberty,  one  single  high  or  noble  aspira- 
tion after  freedom,  they  never  dreamed 
of  it.  You  see,  my  friend,  I  have  no- desire 
to  win  you  over  to  the  Bourbon  cause. 
Neither,  if  I  could,  would  I  make  you  a 
Jacobin.  But  how  is  this  ? — can  it  really 
be  so  late  ?  Come,  we  have  no  time  to  lose 
— it  is  not  accounted  good  breeding  to  be 
late  in  a  visit  at  the  'Faubourg.'  " 


CHAPTER   LXIV. 


THE    TWO    SOIREES. 


Duchesne's  story  had  unfortunately 
driven  all  memory  of  Bubbleton  out  of  my 
head  ;  and  it  was  only  as  we  entered  the 
street  where  the  Duchesse  de  Montserrat 
lived,  that  I  remembered  my  friend,  and 
thought  of  asking  the  chevalier's  advice 
about  him. 

In  a  few  words  I  explained  so  much  of 
his  character  and  situation  as  was  necessary, 
and  was  going  on  to  express  my  fears  lest 
a  temperament  so  unstable  and  uncertain 
should  involve  its  possessor  in  much  trouble, 
when  Duchesne  interrupted  me  by  saying  : 

"  Be  of  courage  on  that  head;  your  friend, 
if  the  man  you  describe  him,  is  the  very 
person  to  baffle  the  police.  They  can  see 
to  any  depth,  if  the  water  be  only  clear. 
Muddy  it,  and  it  matters  little  how  shallow 
it  be.  This  Bubbleton  might  be  of  the 
greatest  service  just  now.  You  must  pre- 
sent me  to  him,  Burke." 

"Most  willingly.  But  first  promise  that 
you  will  not'  involve  my  poor  friend  in  the 
snares  of  any  plot.  Heaven  knows,  his  own 
faculties  are  quite  sufficient  for  his  mystifi- 
cation." 

' '  Plot !  snares  !  Why,  what  are  you  think- 
ing of  ?  But  come,  this  is  our  halting  place  ; 
and  here  Ave  are,  without  my  even  having 
a  moment  to  give  you  any  account  of  my 
good  aunt." 


As  he  spoke  he  turned  the  handle  of  a 
large  door,  which  led  into  a  gloomy  porte 
cochere,  dimly  illuminated  by  a  single  old- 
fashioned  lantern.  A  fat,  unwieldy-looking 
porter  peeped  at  us  from  his  den  in  the 
conciergcrie,  and  then,  having  announced 
our  approach  by  ringing  a  bell,  he  closed 
the  shutter,,  and  left  us  to  find  the  way 
ourselves. 

Ascending  ,the  great  spacious  stair,  the 
wall  alongside  which  was  covered  with  fam- 
ily portraits — grim-looking  heroes  in  mail, 
or  prim  dames,  with  bouquets  in  then- 
jeweled  hands — we  reached  a  species  of 
gallery,  from  which  several  doors  led  off; 
here  a  servant,  dressed  in  deep  black,  was 
standing  to  announce  the  visitors. 

As  the  servant  preceded  us  along  the  cor- 
ridor, I  could  not  help  feeling  the  contrast 
of  this  gloomy  mansion,  wdiere  every  foot- 
step had  its  own  sad  echo,  with  the  gorgeous 
splendor  of  the  Hotel  Clichy.  Here,  all 
was  dark,  cold,  and  dreary  ;  there,  every- 
thing was  lightsome,  cheerful,  and  elegant. 
What  an  emblem,  to  my  thinking,  were 
they  both  of  the  dynasties  they  represented. 
But  the  reflection  was  only  made  as  one 
half  of  the  folding-door  was  thrown  open — 
the  double-door  was  the  prerogative  of  the 
blood-royal — and  we  were  announced. 

The  apartment,  a  large  somber-looking 
one,  was  empty,  however,  and  we  traversed 
this,  and  a  second  similar  to  it,  our  names 
being  repeated  as  before,  when,  at  length, 
the  low  tones  of  voices  indicated  our  ap- 
proach to  the  salon  where  the  visitors  were 
assembled. 

Dimly  lighted  by  a  few  lamps,  far  apart 
from  each  other,  the  apartment,  as  we  en- 
tered, seemed  even  larger  than  it  really 
was.  At  one  end,  around  a  huge  antique 
fireplace,  sat  a  group  of  ladies,  whom,  in  a 
glance,  I  recognized  as  of  the  class  so  dis- 
tinctively called  d  owager.  They  were  seated 
in  deep-cushioned  fauteuils,  and  were  mostly 
employed  in  some  embroidery  work,  which 
they  laid  down  each  time  they  spoke,  and 
resumed,  less  to  prosecute  the  labor,  than 
as  it  were  from  mere  habit. 

With  all  the  insinuating  gracefulness  of 
a  well-bred  Frenchman,  Duchesne  ap- 
proached the  seat  next  the  chimney,  and 
respectfully  kissed  the  hand  extended  to- 
ward him. 

"  Permit  me,  my  dear  aunt,  to  present  a 
very  intimate  friend — Captain  Burke,"  said 
he,  as  he  led  me  forward. 

At.  the  mention  of  the  word  "Captain," 
I  could  perceive  that  every  hand  dropped 
its  embroidery-frame,  while  the  group  stared 
at  me  with  no  feigned  astonishment.  Bu* 
already  the  "  1(ih^sa   had  vouchsafed  a  verj 


516 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS, 


polite  speech,  and  motioned  me  to  a  seat 
beside  her,  while  the  chevalier  insinuated 
himself  among  the  rest,  evidently  bent  on 
relieving  the  stiff  and  constrained  reserve 
which  pervaded  the  party.  Not  even  his 
tact  and  worldly  cleverness  was  equal  to  the 
task.  The  conversation,  if  such  it  could 
be  called,  was  conducted  almost  in  mono- 
syllables ;  some  stray  question  for  an  absent 
"Marquise,"'  or  a  muttered  reply  concern- 
ing a  late  "  Countess,"  Avas  the  burden — 
not  an  allusion  even  being  made  to  any 
topic  of  the  day,  nor  any  phrase  dropped 
which  could  show  that  the  speakers  were 
aware  of  the  year,  or  the  nation  in  which 
they  lived  and  breathed. 

It  was  an  inexpressible  relief  to  me  when, 
gradually,  some  three  or  four  other  persons 
dropped  in,  some  of  them  men,  who,  by 
their  manner,  seemed  favorites  of  the  party; 
and  soon  after  the  entrance  of  the  servant 
with  refreshments  permitted  a  movement 
in  the  group,  when  I  took  the  opportunity 
to  stand  up  and  approach  Duchesne,  as  he 
bent  over  a  table,  listlessly  turning  over  the 
leaves  of  a  volume. 

"Just  think  of  the  contradictions  of 
human  nature,  Burke,"  said  he,  in  a  low 
whisper.  ' "  These  are  the  receptions  for 
which  the  new  noblesse  would  give  half 
their  wealth — these  melancholy  visits  of 
worn-out  acquaintances — these  sapless  twigs 
of  humanity  are  the  envy  of  such  houses 
as  the  'Hotel  Clichy  ;'  and  to  be  admitted 
to  these  gloomy,  motheaten  salons,  is  a 
greater  honor  than  an  invitation  to  the 
Tuileries.  80  long  as  this  exists,  depend 
upon  it,  there  is  rottenness  m  the  core  of. 
society.  But  come,  let  tis  take  our  leave  ; 
I  see  you  are  well  wearied  of  all  this  :  and 
now  for  an  hour  at  Madame  de  Lacostel- 
lerie's — ' en  revanche.' " 

As  we  came  forward  to  make  our  adieu x 
to  the  duchess,  she  rose  from  her  seat,  and, 
in  so  doing,  her  sleeve  brushed  against  a 
small  marble  statue  of  Louis  XVI.,  which, 
had  I  not  opportunely  caught  it,  would 
have  fallen  to  the  ground. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  she,  graciously. 
"You  have  prevented  what  I  should  have 
deemed  a  sad  accident." 

"  Nay,  more,  aunt,"  said  Duchesne,  smil- 
ing ;  "he  has  shown  his  readiness  to  re- 
store the  Bourbon." 

This  speech,  evidently  spoken  in  jest,  was 
repeated  from  lip  to  lip  in  the  circle  ;  and 
certainly  I  never  felt  my  awkwardness  more 
oppressive  than  when  bowing  to  the  party, 
whose  elated  looks  and  pleased  countenances 
now  were  turned  toward  me. 

"My  poor,  bashful  friend,"  said  Du- 
chesne, as  we  descended  the  stair,  "get  rid 


of  the  habit  of  blushing  with  all  convenient 
dispatch  ;  it  has  marred  more  f  01  tunes  than 
pharo  or  bouillotte." 

"  This,  assuredly,  is  well  done  !  "  said  the 
Chevalier,  as  he  looked  around  him,  while 
we  slowly  ascended  the  stairs  of  .the  Hotel 
Clichy.  The  brilliant  light,  almost  rival- 
ing day — the  servants  in  gorgeous  liveries — 
the  air  of  wealth  around  on  every  side,  so 
different  from  the  sad-colored  mansion  of 
the  Faubourg —while,  as  the  opening  doors 
permitted  it  to  be  heard,  the  sound  of  de- 
licious music  came  wafted  to  the  ear. 

"I  say,  Burke,"  said  he,  stopping  sud- 
denly, and  laying  his  hand  on  my  arm, 
"this  might  content  a  man  who  has  seen 
as  much  as  I  have  ;  and  the  game  is  well 
worth ^the  playing — so  here  goes  !  " 

The  first  person  I  saw  as  we  entered  the 
ante-chamber  was  Bubbleton.  He  was  the 
center  of  a  knot  of  foreigners,  who,  what- 
ever the  topic,  seemed  highly  amused  at  his 
discourse. 

"  That  is  your  friend,  yonder,"  said  Du- 
chesne. "  He  has  the  true  type  of  '  John 
Bull  '  about  him.     Introduce  me  at  once." 

Duchesne  scarcely  permitted  me  to  finish 
the  introduction,  when  he  extended  his 
hand,  and  saluted  Bubbleton  with  great  cor- 
diality, while  the  "  General  "  did  not  suffer 
the  ceremony  to  interrupt  the  flow  of  his  elo- 
quence, but  continued  to  explain,  in  the 
most  minute  and  circumstantial  manner, 
the  conditions  of  the  new  peace  secretly 
concluded  between  France  and  England. 
The  incredulity  of  the  listeners  was,  I  could 
perceive,  considerably  lessened  by  observing 
the  deferential  attention  with  which  Du- 
chesne listened,  only  interrupting  the  speak- 
er by  an  occasional  assent,  or  a  passing 
question  as  to  the  political  relations  of 
some  of  the  great  powers." 

"As  to  Prussia,"  said  Bubbleton,  pom- 
pously— "  as  to  Prussia — " 

"  Well,  what  of  Prussia,  general  ?" 

"We  have  our  doubts  on  that  subject," 
replied  he,  looking  thoughtfully  around  him 
on  the  group,  who,  completely  deceived  by 
Duchesne's  manner,  now  paid  him  marked 
attention. 

"You'll  not  deprive  her  of  Genoa,  I 
trust,"  said  the  Chevalier,  with  a  gravity 
almost  inconceivable. 

"  That  is  done  already,"  said  Bubbleton. 
"For  my  own  part,  I  told  Lauderdale  we 
were  nothing  without  the  Bosphorus— '  the 
key  of  our  house,'  as  your  Emperor  called 
it." 

"  He  spoke  of  Eussia,  if  I  don't  err," 
said  Duchesne,  with  an  insinuating  air  of 
correction. 

' '  Pardon  me,  you  are  wrong.     I  know 


TOM  BURKE  OF  ''OURS.'" 


517 


Russia  well.  I  traveled  through  the 
steppes  of  Metchezaromizce  with  Prince 
Drudeszitsch.  We  journeyed  three  hundred 
versts  over  his  own  estates,  drawn  on  sledges 
by  his  serfs.  You  are  aware  they  are  always 
harnessed  by  the  beard,  which  they  wear 
long  and  plaited  on  purpose." 

"  That  is  toward  the  Crimea,"  interrupt- 
ed the  Chevalier. 

"Precisely.  I  remember  a  curious  in- 
cident which  occurred  one  night  as  we  ap- 
proached '  Chitepsk  ; '  you  know  Chitepsk  ? 
it  is  where  they  confine  the  state  prisoners 
— a  miserable,  dreary  tract,  where  the  snow 
never  melts,  and  the  frost  is  so  intense,  you 
often  see  a  drove  of  wolves  glued  fast  to  the 
snow  by  the  feet,  and  howling  fearfully — a 
strange  sight,  to  be  sure  !  Well,  the  night 
was  falling,  and  a  thin,  cutting  snowdrift 
beginning  to  drop,  when  Dru — I  always  call 
him  so — short — said  to  me  : 

"  '  Bub ' — he  did  the  same  to  me — '  Bub,' 
said  he,  '  do  you  remark  that  off-side  lead- 
er ?  ' 

"  '  I  see  him,'  said  I. 

"  '  Well,  I  have  been  watching  the  fel- 
low since  the  last  stage,  and  confound  me 
if  he  has  ever  tightened  a  trace  ;  and  you 
see  he  is  a  right  active  one,  notwithstanding. 
He  capers  along  gayly  enough.  Til  touch 
him  up  a  bit.  And  with  that  he  gave  a 
flourish  of  his  knouted  whip,  and  came 
down  on  him  with  a  smarting  cut.  Lord, 
how  he  jumped  ! — five  feet  off  the  ground 
at  one  spring  !  and  hang  me  if  he  didn't 
tear  off  his  beard  !  There  it  was,  hanging 
to  the  pole — a  very  shocking  sight,  I  must 
confess,  through  Dru  didn't  seem  to  mind 
it.  However,  we  were  obliged  to  pull  up, 
and  get  out  the  team.  Well,  you  would 
not  believe  what  we  saw  when  we  got  down. 
You'd  never  guess  who  was  the  off  leader 
— it  was  the  Princess  Odoznovskoi.  Poor 
thing  !  the  last  time  I  saw  her,  before  that,- 
she  was  dancing  in  the  Amber  Palace  with 
Prince  Alexander.  She  and  her  husband 
had  been  banished  to  Chitepsk,  and,  as  he 
was  ill,  she  had  put  on  a  false  beard,  and 
was  taking  a  short  stage  in  his  place." 

1  did  not  venture  to  wait  for  more^  but, 
leaving  Duchesne  to  make  the  most  of  the 
genera],  passed  onward  toward  the  salon, 
which  already  was  rapidly  filling  with  visi- 
tors. 

The  countess  received  me  with  more  than 
wonted  kindness  of  manner,  and  mademoi- 
selle assumed  a  tone  of  actual  cordiality  I 
had  never  perceived  before,  while,  as  she  ex- 
changed greetings  with  me,  she  said,  in  a 
low  voice  : 

"  Let  me  speak  with  you,  in  the  picture- 
gallery,  m  half  an  hour." 


Before  I  could  utter  my  assent  she  had 
passed  on,  and  was  speaking  to  another. 

Somewhat  curious  to  conceive  what  Ma- 
demoiselle de  Lacostellerie  might  mean  by 
her  appointment  in  the  gallery,  I  avoided 
the  groups  where  I  perceived  my  acquaint- 
ances were,  and  strolled  negligently  on  to- 
ward the  place  of  meeting.  The  gallery 
was  but  half  lighted,  as  was  customary  on 
mere  nights  of  visiting,  and  I  found  it  quite 
deserted.  I  was  sauntering  slowly  along,mu- 
sing  on  the  strange  effects  of  the  half-seen 
pictures,  where  all,  save  the  most  forcible 
and  striking  tints,  were  sombered  down  to 
blackness,  when  I  heard  a  step  behind  me.  I 
turned  my  head,  and  saw  mademoiselle  her- 
self. She  was  alone,  and,  though  she  evi- 
dently had  seen  me,  continued  to  walk  on- 
ward, without  speaking,  toward  a  small 
boudoir,  which  occupied  one  angle  of  the 
gallery.  I  followed,  and  we  entered  it  to- 
gether. 

There  was  something  in  the  secret  inter- 
view which,  while  it  excited  my  curiosity, 
served  at  once  to  convince  me  that,  had  I 
indulged  in  any  hope  of  succeeding  to  her 
affections,  nothing  could  be  less  promising 
— this  very  proof  of  her  confidence  was  the 
strongest  earnest  of  her  indifference.  But. 
indeed,  I  had  never  any  such  expectation. 
My  pride  might  have  been  flattered  by  such 
a  supposition — my  heart  could  never  have 
sympathized  in  the  emotion. 

"  We  are  alone  here,"  said  she,  hurried- 
ly, "and  we  may  be  missed  ;  so  let  me  be 
brief.  It  will  seem  strange  that  I  should 
ask  you  to  meet  me  here,  but  I  could  not 
help  it.  You  alone,  of  all  who  frequent 
this,  have  never  paid  me  the  least  attention, 
nor  seemed  disposed  to  flatter  me.  This 
leads  me  to  trust  you.  I  have  no  other 
reason  but  that,  and  because  I  am  friend- 
less." There  was  a  tremulous  sadness  in 
the  last  word  which  went  to  my  heart,  and 
I  could  mark  that  her  breathing  was  hur- 
ried and  irregular  for  some  few  seconds 
after.  "  Will  you  promise  me  your  friend- 
ship in  what  I  ask,  or,  if  that  be  too  much, 
will  you  pledge  yourself  at  least  to  secrecy  ? 
Enough,  I  am  quite  satisfied.  Now,  tell 
me,  who  is  this  Chevalier  Duchesne  ? — what 
is  he  ?  " 

I  ran  over  in  a  few  words  all  I  knew  of 
him,  dwelling  on  whatever  might  most  re- 
dound to  his  credit — his  distinguished  mi- 
litary career — his  undoubted  talent — and, 
lastly,  alluding  to  his  family,  to  which  I 
conceived  the  question  might  most  proba- 
bly apply. 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  that,"  said  she  vehement- 
ly, "  I  wish  to  know.  I  care  not  for  his 
bravery,   nor- his  birth  either.      Tell  me, 


518 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


what  are  the  sources  of  his  power — how  is 
he  admitted  everywhere — intimate  with 
every  one,  with  influence  over  all  ?  Why 
does  Fouche  fear,  and  Talleyrand  admit 
him  ?  1  know  they  do  this— and  can  you 
give  me  no  clue,  however  faint,  to  guide 
me  ?  The  Count  de  Lacostellerie  was  re- 
fused the  Spanish  contract— Duchesne  in- 
terferes, and -it  is  given  him.  There  is  a 
difficulty  about  a  card  for  a  private  concert 
at  St.  Cloud — Duchesne  sends  it.  Nor  does 
it  end  here.  Yon  know,"  here  her  voice 
assumed  a  forced  distinctness,  as  though  it 
cost  her  an  effort  to  speak  calmly,  "  of  his 
duel  with  the  Prince  Dobretski  ;  but  per- 
haps you  may  not  know  how  he  has  obtain- 
ed an  imperial  order  for  his  recall  to  St. 
Petersburg  ?" 

"  Of  that  I  never  heard.  Can  it  be  pos- 
sible ?  " 

"  Have  you,  then,  never  tasted  of  his  ar- 
bitrary power,"  said  she,  smiling  half  su- 
perciliously, "that  these  things  seem 
strange  to  you  ?  or  does  he  work  so  secretly 
that  even  those  most  intimate  with  him  are 
in  ignorance  ?  But  this  must  be  so."  She 
paused  for  a  second  or  two,  and  then  went 
on  :  "-And  now,  brief  as  our  acquaintance 
with  him  has  been,  see  what  influence  he 
already  possesses  over  my  mother.  Even 
to  her  I  dare  not  whisper  my  suspicions  ; 
while  to  you,  a  stranger,"  added  she  with 
emotion,  "  I  must  speak  my  fears." 

"  But  are  they  not  groundless  ?"  said  I, 
endeavoring  to  calm  the  agitation  she  suf- 
fered from.  "  In  all  that  you  have  men- 
tioned, I  can  but  trace  the  devotion  of  one 
seeking  to  serve,  not  injure — to  be  loved, 
not  dreaded." 

Scarce  had  I  said  these  words,  when 
T  heard  a  noise  behind  me,  and,  before  I 
could  turn  round,  Duchesne  stood  beside 
us. 

"I  implore  your  pardon,  mademoiselle," 
said  he,  in  a  voice  of  well-affected  timidity, 
"  nor  should  I  venture  to  interrupt  so  in- 
teresting a  conference,  but  that  the  Coun- 
tess de  Lacostellerie  had  sent  me  to  look  for 
you." 

"  You  could  scarcely  have  come  more  a 
propos,  sir  ;  the  conversation  was  entirely 
of  yourself,"  said  she,  haughtily,  as  if  in 
defiance  of  him. 

"  How  could  I  possibly  have  merited  so 
great  an  honor,  mademoiselle,"  replied  he, 
bowing  with  the  deepest  respect ;  "or  is  it 
to  the  kindness  of  &  friend  I  am  indebted 
for  such  interest." 

There  was  an  evident  sneer  in  the  way  he 
uttered  the  word  "friendj"  while  a  side- 
long glance  he  gave  beneath  his  deep  eye- 
lashes was  still  more  decisive  of  his  feeling. 


"  Few  probably  owe  more  to  their  friends 
than  the  Chevalier  Duchesne,"  said  Made- 
moiselle, tauntingly,  as  she  took  my  arm  to 
return  to  the  salon. 

"True,  most  true,"  replied  he,  with  a 
low  and  deferential  bow,  "  and  1  hope  J 
am  not  the  man  to  forget  my  debts  to  either 
friends  or  enemies." 

I  turned  round  rapidly  as  he  said  this  ; 
our  eyes  met,  and  we  exchanged  a  short, 
brief  glance  of  open  defiance.  His,  how- 
ever, as  quickly  changed,  and  an  easy  smile 
of  careless  indifference  succeeded,  as  he 
lounged  after  us  toward  the  salon,  where 
now  a  considerable  number  of  persons  were 
assembled,  and  a  more  than  usual  excite- 
ment prevailed.  Some  generals  of  the  im- 
perial staff  were  also  there,  and  the  rumor 
ran  that  the  negotiations  with  England 
had  been  suddenly  interrupted,  and  that 
the  negotiators  had  demanded  their  pass- 
ports. 

"  That  is  not  all,  madame,"  said  an  old 
officer  to  the  countess  ;  "  the  accounts  from 
Mayence  are  threatening.  Large  bodies  of 
Prussian  troops  are  reported  on  the  march 
from  the  eastward.  The  telegraph  has  been 
actively  at  work  since  noon,  and  several 
couriers  have  been  sent  off  from  the  War 
Office. 

"What  is  to  come  next?"  said  the 
Countess,  sighing,  .as  she  thought  of  Pans 
once  more  deserted  by  its  gay  court  and 
brilliant  crowd  of  officers,  the  only  society 
of  the  period. 

"  What  next,  madame  ?"  said  Duchesne, 
taking  up  the  word.  "  Parbhu  !  the  thing 
is  easily  told  :  a  conscription,  a  march,  a 
bivouac,  and  a  battle  will  form  act  the 
first ;  then,  a  victory,  and  a  bulletin,  and 
an  imperial  edict,  showing  that  Prussia, 
both  by  her  language  and  geographical 
position,  was  intended  by  Providence  to  be- 
long to  France — that  Prussians  have  no 
dearer  wish  than  to  be  thrashed  and  ta^xed 
—the  honor  of  becoming  a  portion  of  the 
Grande  Nation  being  an  ample  recompense 
for  any  misfortune." 

"  And  so  it  is,  monsieur,"  broke  in  a  bluff, 
hard-featured  veteran,  whose  coarse  and 
weather-beaten  traits  bespoke  one  risen 
from  the  ranks.  "  He  is  no  Frenchman 
w  ho  says  otherwise." 

"  To  your  good  health,  colonel,"  said 
Duchesne,  as  lie  lifted  a  glass  of  champagne 
to  his  lips.  "  Such  patriotism  is  really  re- 
freshing m  our  degenerate  days.  I  wish 
you  every  success  in  your  campaign  ;  though 
what  is  to  reward  your  valor  in  that  miser- 
able land  of  beer  and  Protestantism  I  can- 
not possibly  conceive." 

"To-morrow,  let  me  see  you  to-morrowT 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS: 


519 


in  the  afternoon,"  said  Mademoiselle,  in  a 
whisper,  as  she  passed  close  to  me. 

As  I  nodded  in  acknowledgment,  Du- 
chesne turned  slightly  around,  and  I  saw  in 
his  eyes  he  had  overheard  the  words,  though 
uttered  in  a  mere  whisper.  Still  he  went 
o.n  : 

"As  for  us  who  remain  mgloriously  be- 
hind you,  we  have  nothing  to  do  but  to 
read  your  exploits  in  the  Moniteur,  and 
would  to  Heaven  the  worthy  editor  would 
print  his  battles  in  better  fashion  !  The 
whole  page  usually  looks  more  like  a  beaten 
than  a  conquering  army  ;  wounded  vowels 
and  broken  consonants  at  every  step,  and 
the  capital  letters  awkward,  hard-featured 
fellows,  as  though  risen  from  the  ranks." 

"  Tonnerre  de  Dieu,  sir  !  do  you  mean  an 
insult  to  me  ?  "  said  the  old  colonel,  in  a 
voice  which,  though  intended  for  a  whis- 
per, was  heard  over  the  whole  circle." 

"An  insult,  my  dear  colonel?  nothing 
within  a  thousand  leagues  of  such.  I  was 
only  speaking  of  the  '  type '  of  our  army, 
which  may  be  very  efficient,  but  is  scarcely 
too  good-looking." 

No  words  can  convey  the  sarcastic  tone  in 
which  the  speech  was  delivered,  nor  the 
mortification  of  the  indignant  colonel,  who 
felt,  but  knew  not  how  to  reply  to,  such  a 
taunt.  Happily,  Madame  de  Lacostellerie 
interposed,  and,  by  skillfully  changing  the 
topic  of  conversation,  averted  further  un- 
pleasantness. 

My  desire  to  learn  something  accurately 
as  to  the  state  of  events,  made  me  anxious 
to  reach  my  quarters,  and  I  took  the  first 
opportunity  of  quitting  the  salon.  As  I 
passed  through  the  outer  room,  Duchesne 
was  standing  against  a  sideboard,  holding  a 
glass  in  his  hand.  It  was  necessary  that  I 
should  pass  him  closely,  and  I  was  prepar- 
ing to  salute  him  with  the  distant  courtesy 
of  our  present  acquaintance,  when  he  said, 
in  his  former  tone  of  easy  raillery, 

"  Going  so  early  ?  Won't  you  have  a 
glass  of  wine  before  you  leave  ?  " 

"No,  I  thank  you,"  said  I,  coldly,  and 
going  on  toward  the  door. 

"  Nor  wait  for  the  concert — Grassini  will 
be  here  in  half  an  hour  ?  " 

I  shook  my  head  in  negation,  and  as  I 
passed  out  I  heard  him  humming,  with  an 
emphasis  which  there  was  no  mistaking,  the 
couplet  of  a  popular  song  of  the  day,  which 
concluded  thus  : 

"  To-day  for  me, 
To-morrow  tor  thee, 
But  will  that  to-morrow  ever  be  ?  " 

That  Duchesne  intended  to  challenge  me 
seemed  now  almost  certain,  and  I  ran  over 


in  my  mind  the  few  names  of  those  I  could 
ask  to  be  my  friends  on  such  an  occasion, 
but  without  being  able  to  satisfy  myself  on 
the  subject.  A  moment's  recollection  might 
have  taught  me  that  it  was  a  maxim  with 
the  chevalier  never  to  send  a  message,  but, 
in  every  case,  to  make  the  adversary  the 
aggressor  ;  he  had  told  me  so  over  and  over 
himself.  That,  however,  did  not  occur  to 
me  at  the  moment,  and  I  walked  onward, 
thinking  of  our  meeting.  Could  I  have 
known  what  was  passing  in  his  mind,  I 
should  have  spared  many  serious  and  some 
sad  thoughts  to  my  own. 


CHAPTER   LXV. 

A    SUDDEN    DEPARTURE. 

So  firmly  had  I  persuaded  myself,  on  my 
way  homeward,  that  Duchesne  intended  a 
duel  with  me,  that  I  dreamed  of  it  all 
night,  and  awoke  in  the  morning  perfectly 
convinced  that  the  event  was  prearranged 
between  us.  Now,  although  the  habits  of 
the  service  I  lived  in  had,  in  a  great  mea- 
sure, blunted  tne  feelings  I  once- enter- 
tained toward  dueling,  still  enough  of  de- 
testation of  the  practice  remained  to  make 
my  anticipations  far  from  satisfactory  ;  be- 
sides, I  knew  that  Duchesne  had  in  reality 
no  cause  of  quarrel  with  me,  but  from  mis- 
apprehension alone  could  demand  a  meet- 
ing, which  our  military  code  of  honor  al- 
ways decided  should  be  accepted  first,  and 
inquired  into  afterward.  I  regretted  also, 
and  deeply  too,  that  1  should  appear  to  his 
eyes  in  an  unworthy  part,  as  though  be- 
traying the  interests  he  had  confided  to 
me.  There  were,  as  I  have  said,  many 
things  I  liked  not  in  the  chevalier  :  the  in- 
satiable desire  he  felt  for  revenge  where  he 
had  once  been  injured  ;  the  spirit  of  in- 
trigue he  cherished  ;  and,  perhaps  more 
than  either,  I  shunned  the  scoffing  habit 
he  had  of  depreciating  what  every  one 
around  him  loved  or  respected — of  strip- 
ping off  every  illusion  which  made  life  val- 
uable, and  reducing  to  the  miserable  stan- 
dard of  mere  selfish  gratification  all  that 
was  great,  or  noble,  or  venerable.  Already 
had  his  evil  influence  done  me  injury  in 
this  way  ;  even  now  I  felt,  that,  of  the  few 
day-dreams  I  once  indulged  in,  he  had 
robbed  me  of  the  best,  and  reduced  me  to 
the  sad  reflection  which  haunted  me 
throughout,  my  whole  career,  and  embitter- 
ed every  passing  enjoyment  of  my  life  :  I 
mean,  the  sorrowful  thought  of  being  an 
alien — of  having  but  the  hireling's  part  in 


520 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


that  career  of  glory  which  others  followed — 
that  1  alone  could  have  no  thrill  of  patri- 
otism, when  all  around  me  were  exulting  in 
its  display — that  1  had  neither  home  nor 
country  !  Oh,  if -they  who  feel,  or  fancy 
that  they  feel,  the  wrongs  and  oppressions 
oi  misgovernmenc  at  home — who,  with 
high  aspirations  after  liberty,  and  holy 
thoughts  for  the  happiness  of  their  fellow- 
men,  war  against  the  despotism  which 
would  repress  the  one,  or  the  cruelty  which 
would  despise  the  other — if  they  could 
only  foresee  that,  in  changing  allegiance, 
they  did  but  shift  the  burden,  not  rid  them- 
selves of  the  load;  that  the  service  of  a 
foreign  land  is  no  requital  for  the  loss  of 
every  feeling  which  ties  a  man  to  kindred 
and  to  friends  ;  which  links  his  manhood 
with  his  youth,  his  age  with  both  ;  which 
gives  him,  in  the  language  of  his  fore- 
fathers, a  sympathy  with  -the  land  that 
liore  them — if  they  could  know  and  feel 
these  things  ;  if  they  could  learn  how,  in 
surrendering  them,  they  have  made  them- 
selves such  mere  waifs  and  strays  upon 
life's  ocean,  that  objects  of  purely  selfish 
and  personal  advancement  must  be  to  them 
for  evermore  in  place  of  the  higher  and 
more  cnobling  thoughts  which  mix  with 
other  men's  ambitions— they  might  hesi- 
tate ere  they  left  home  and  country  to  fight 
for  the  cause  of  the  stranger. 

If  such  thoughts  found  entrance  into  my 
heart,  how  must  they  have  dwelt  in  many 
another s  ?  I,  who  had  neither  family  nor 
kindred — who,  from  earliest  childhood, 
had  never  tasted  the  sweets  of  affection, 
nor  known  the  blessings  of  a  father's  love — 
and  yet,  scarce  a  day  crept  by  without  some 
thought  of  the  far-away  land  of  my  birth, 
some  memory  of  its  hills  and  valleys — of 
its  green  banks  and  changeful  skies  ;  and 
in  my  -  dreams,  some  long-forgotten  air 
would  bring  me  back  in  memory  to  the 
cottier's  fireside,  where  around  the  red 
blazing  turf  were  seated  the  poor  but  hap- 
py peasantry,  beguiling  the  time  with  song 
or  story — now  telling  of  the  ancient  great- 
ness of  their  country — now  breathing  a 
hope  of  its  one  day  prosperity. 

"Captain  Burke's  quarters?"  said  a 
voice  without.  At  the  same  instant,  the 
jingling  of  spurs  and  the  clank  of  a  sabre 
bespoke  the  questioner  as  a  soldier.  My 
door  opened,  and  an  officer  in  the  full  dress 
of  the  staff  entered.  As  I  requested  him 
to  be  seated,  I  already  anticipated  the  ob- 
ject of  his  visit,  which  he  seemed  deter- 
mined to  open  irf  most  diplomatic  fashion  ; 
for,  the  first  salutations  over,  lie  began 
coolly  to  ransack  his  sabretasche,  and  search 
umonga  heap  of  papers  which  crowded  it. 


"Ah!  here  it  is,"  said  he,  at  length. 
"  I  ask  your  pardon  for  all  this  delay. 
But,  of  course,  you  guess  the  reason  of  my 
being  here  ?" 

"  1  must  confess  I  suspect  it,"  said  I, 
with  a  smile. 

"  Oh,  that  I  am  '  certain  of.  These 
things  never  are  secrets  very  long  ;  nor,  for 
my  part,  do  I  think  there  is  any  need  there 
should  be.  I  conclude  you  are  quite  pre- 
pared ?  " 

"  You  shall  find  me  so." 

"So  the  minister  said,"  replied  he; 
while,  once  more,  his  eyes  were  buried  in 
the  recesses  of  the  sabretasche,  leaving  me 
in  the  most  intense  astonishment  at  the 
last  few  words.  That  the  minister,  who- 
ever he  might  be,  should  know  of,  and,  as 
it  seemed,  acquiesce  in  my  fighting  a  duel, 
was  a  puzzle  1  could  make  nothing  of. 

"  Here  is  the  note  I  looked  for,"  said  he, 
as  he  took  forth  a  small  slip  of  paper, 
written  on  both  sides.  "  May  I  beg  you 
will  take  down  the  details  ;  they  are  brief, 
but  important." 

"  You  may  trust  my  memory  with  them," 
said  I,  rather  surprised  at  the  circumstan- 
tial style  of  his  conduct. 

"As  you  please;  so  pay  attention  for 
one  moment,  Avhile  I  read  :  '  Captain 
Burke,  of  the  Eighth,  will  proceed  by  ex- 
tra post  to  Mayence,  visiting  the  following 
garrisons  en  route  ' — here  come  the  names, 
which  you  can  copy — 'where  his  attention 
will  be  specially  directed  to  the  points 
marked  A.,  B.  and — ' 

"  Forgive  my  interrupting  you,  but  really 
I  am  unaware  of  what  you  are  alluding  to. 
Yrou  are  not  here  on  the  part  of  the  Chev- 
alier Duchesne  ?" 

"The  Chevalier  Duchesne  ?  Duchesne  ? 
— No.  This  is  a  war  .dispatch,  from  the 
minister.  You  must  set  out  in  two  hours. 
I  thought  you  said  you  were  prepared." 

"  Hem  !  there  has  been  a  mistake  here," 
said  I,  endeavoring  to  remember  how  far  I 
have  might  committed  myself  by  any  un- 
guarded expression. 

"  All  my  fault,  Captain  Burke,"  said  he, 
frankly.  "  I  should  have  been  more  ex- 
plicit at  first.  But  I  really  thought-  from 
something — I  forget  precisely  what  now — 
that  you  knew  of  the  movement  on  the 
frontier,  and  were,  in  fact,  prepared  for 
your  orders.  Heaven  knows  how  far  our 
mystification  might  have  gone  on ;  for, 
when  you  spoke  of  Duchesne — the  ex-cap- 
tain of  the  Imperial  Guard,  I  suppose — " 

"Yes,  what  of  him  ?" 

"  Why,  it  so  chanced  that  he  was  closet- 
ed with  the  minister  this  morning,  and  only 
left  five  minutes  before  your  orders  were 


TOM  BURKE   OF    "OURS." 


521 


made  out.  But,  come,  neither  of  us  can 
well  spare  more  time.  This  is  your  dispatch 
for  the  commandant  of  the  troops  at  May- 
ence,  to  whom  you  will  report  verbally  on 
the  equipment  of  the  smaller  bodies  of  men 
visited  en  route.  I  shall  give  you  my  note, 
which,  though  hurriedly  written,  will  as- 
sist your  memory.  Above  all  things,  get 
speedily  on  the  road,  and  reach  Mayence  by 
Wednesday.  Half  an  hour's  speed  in  times 
like  these  is  worth  a  whole  year  in  one's 
way  to  promotion  ;  and  so,  now,  good- 
by!" 

I  stood  for  several  minutes  after  he 
left  the  room  so  confused  and  astonished, 
that  had  not  the  huge  envelope,  with 
its  great  seal  of  office,  confirmed  the  fact, 
I  could  have  believed  the  whole  a  mere 
trick  of  my  imagination. 

The  jingle  of  the  postilion's  equipment 
in  the  court  beneath  now  informed  me  that 
a  government  caleche  stood  awaiting  me, 
and  I  speedily  began  my  preparations  for 
the  road. 

One  thought  filled  my  mind  to  the  ex- 
clusion of  all  others.    It  was  Duchesne's  in- 
fluence on  which  my  fortune  now  rested. 
The  last  few  words  he  uttered  as  I  left  the 
salon  were  ringing  in  my  ears,  and  here  was 
their  explanation.     This  rapid  journey  was 
planned  by  him  to  remove  me  from  Paris, 
where,  possibly,  he  supposed  my  knowledge 
of  him  might  be  inconvenient,  and  where, 
in  my  absence,  his  designs  might  be  pros- 
ecuted with  more  success.     Happy  as  I  felt 
to  think  that  a  personal  rencontre  was  not 
to  occur  between  us,  my  self-love  was  deep- 
ly wounded  at  the  thought  of  how  much  I 
was  in  this  man's  power,  and  how  arbitra-  j 
rily  he  decided  on  the  whole  question  of  my  ! 
destiny.     If  my  pride  were  gratified  on  the 
one  hand  by  my  having  excited  the  chev-  i 
alier's  vengeance,  it  was  offended  on  the , 
other  by  feeling  how  feeble  would  my  efforts  j 
prove  to  oppose  the  will  of  an  antagonist  | 
who  worked  with  such  secret  and  such  pow- 
erful means. 

The  same  philosophy  which  so  often  stood  j 
my  part  in  life,  here  came  to  my  aid — to  f 
act  well  my  own  part,  and  leave  the  result 
to  time  ;  and  so,  with  this  patient  resolve, 
I  mentally  bid  defiance  to  my  adversary, 
and  set  out  from  Paris. 

The  ardent  feeling  which  filled  my  heart 
on  the  approach  of  my  first  campaign,  was 
now  changed  into  a  soldierly  sense  of  duty, 
which,  if  less  enthusiastic,  was  a  steadier 
and  more  sustaining  motive.  I  felt  what- 
ever distinctions  it  should  be  my  lot  to  win 
must  be  gained  in  the  camp,  not  in  the 
court — that  my  place  was  rather  where 
squadrons  were  charging,  and  squares  were 


kneeling,  than  among  the  intrigues  of  the 
capital,  its  wiles  and  its  plottings.  In  the 
one.  1  might  win  an  honorable  name — in 
the  other,  1  should  be  but  the  dupe  of  more 
designing  heads,  and  less  scrupulous  hearts, 
tnan  my  own. 

Early  on  the  third  morning,  from  the 
time  of  my  leaving  Paris,  I  reached  May- 
ence. The  garrisons  which  I  visited  on  the 
road  seldom  detained  me  above  half  an 
hour.  The  few  questions  which  I  had  to 
ask  respecting  the  troops  were  soon  and 
easily  answered  ;  and,  in  most  instances,  the 
officers  in  command  had  been  apprised  that 
their  reports  would  be  required,  and  came 
ready  at  once  to  afford  the  information. 

The  disposable  force  at  that  time  was  not 
above  eighty  thousand  new  levies,  the  con- 
scripts of  the  past  year,  who,  although  well 
drilled  and  equipped,  had  never  undergone 
the  fatigues  of  a  campaign,  nor  met  an 
enemy  in  the  field.  But  beyond  the  fron- 
tier were  the  veteran  legions  of  the  Austrian 
campaign,  who,  while  advancing  on  their 
return  to  France,  were  suddenly  halted,  and 
now  only  awaited  the  Emperor's  orders 
whither  they  should  carry  their  victorious 
standards. 

As  at  the  outbreak  of  all  Napoleon's  wars. 
the  greatest  uncertainty  prevailed  regarding 
the  direction  of  the  army,  and  in  what 
place,  and  against  what  enemy,  the  first 
blow  was  to  be  struck. 

The  Russian  army,  defeated  and  routed 
at  Austerlitz,  was  said  to  be  once  more 
in  the  field,  reorganized  and  strengthened. 
Austria,  it  was  rumored,  was  faltering  in 
her  fealty.  But  the  military  preparations 
of  Prussia  were  no  longer  a  secret ;  and  to 
many  it  seemed  as  if,  as  in  the  days  of  the 
Republic,  France  was  about  to  contend, 
single-handed,  against  the  whole  of  Europe. 
In  Prussia,  the  warlike  enthusiasm  of  the 
people  was  carried  to  the  very  highest  pitch. 
The  Court,  the  aristocracy,  but,  more  pow- 
erful than  either,  the  press,  stimulated  na- 
tional courage,  by  recalling  to  their  minds 
the  famous  deeds  of  the  Great  Frederiek,and 
bidding  them  remember  that  "  Rossbach  " 
was  won  against  an  army  of  Frenchmen. 
The  students — a  powerful  and  an  organized 
class — stood  foremost  in  this  patriotic  move- 
ment. Their  excited  imaginations  warmed 
by  the  spirit-stirring  songs  of  Korner  and 
Uhland,  and  glowing  with  the  instincts  of 
that  chivalry  which  is  a  German's  birth- 
right, they  spread  over  the  country,  calling 
upon  their  fellow-subjects  to  arise  and  de- 
fend the  "  Vaterland"  against  the  aggres- 
sion of  the  tyrant.  So  unequivocally  was 
this  feeling  expressed,  that  even  before  the 
negotiations  had  lost  their  pacific  character, 


622 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


the  youthful  aristocracy  of  Berlin  used  to 
go  and  sharpen  their  swords  at  the  door-sill 
of  the  French  ambassador  at  Berlin. 

To  the  exalted  tone  of  patriotic  enthu- 
siasm the  beautiful  Queen  of  Prussia  most  j 
powerfully  contributed.  The  crooked  and 
tortious  windings  of  diplomatic  intrigue 
found  no  sympathy  in  her  frank  and  gene- 
rous nature.  Relying  on  the  native  energy 
of  German  character,  she  bade  an  open  and 
a  bold  defiance  to  her  country's  enemy,  and 
was  content  to  stake  all  on  the  chances  of  a  ( 
battle. 

The  colder  and  less  confident  mind  of  ] 
the  king  was  rather  impelled  by  the  current 
of  popular  opinion  than  induced  by  con- 
viction  to  the  adoption  of  this  daring 
policy.  But  once  engaged  in  it,  he  exhibit- 
ed the  rarest  fortitude  and  the  most  un- 
yielding courage. 

•  Such,  in  brief,  was  the  condition  of  that 
people,  such  the,  warlike  spirit  they 
breathed,  when,  in  the  autumn  of  180G,  the 
cry  of  war  resounded  from  the  shores  of 
the  Baltic  to  the  frontiers  of  Bohemia. 

Never  was  the  effective  strength  of  the 
Prussian  army  more  conspicuous.  Their 
cavalry,  in  number  and  equipment,  was 
confessedly  among  the  first,  if  not  the  very 
first,  m  Europe  ;  while  the  artillery  main- 
tained a  reputation  which,  since  the  days 
of  Frederick,  had  proclaimed  it  the  most 
perfect  arm  of  the  service.  The  Emperor 
knew  these  things  well,  and  did  not  under- 
value them  ;  and  it  was  with  a  very  different 
impression  of  his  present  enemy  from  that 
which  filled  his  mind  in  the  Austrian  cam- 
paign, that  he  remarked  to  Soult:  "We 
shall  want  the  mattock  in  this  war." 
Thereby  implying  that,  against  such  an 
adversary,  field-works  and  intrenchments 
would  be  needed,  as  well  as  the  dense  array 
of  squadrons,  and  the  bristling  walls  of  in- 
fantry. 


CHAPTER    LXVL 

THE  SUMMIT  OF  THE  LANDGRAFENBERG. 

After  a  brief  delay  at  Mayence,  it  was 
with  sincere  pleasure  I  received  my  orders 
to  push  forward  to  the  advanced  posts  at 
Wetzlar,  where  General  d'Auvergue  was 
with  his  division.  Already  the  battalions 
were  crossing  the  Rhine,  and  directing  their 
steps  to  different  rendezvous  along  the 
Prussian  frontier  ;  some,  pressing  on  east- 
ward, where  the  Saxon  territory  joins  the 
Prussian  ;  others,  directly  to  the  north,  and 
taking  up  positions  distant  by  a  short  day's 
march  from  each  other.      The  same  urgent 


haste  which  characterized  the  opening  of 
the  Austrian  campaign  a  year  before,  was 
here  conspicuous  ;  many  of  the  corps  being 
obliged  to  march  seven  and  eight  leagues  in 
the  day,  and  frequently  whole  companies 
being  forwarded  in  wagons  drawn  by  six  or 
eight  horses,  in  order  to  come  up  with  the 
main  body  of  their  regiments.  Every  road 
eastward,  was  covered  with  some  fragment 
of  the  army.  Now  an  infantry  corps  of 
young  conscripts,  glowing  with  enthusiasm, 
and  eager  for  the  fray,  would  cheer  the 
calcche  in  which  I  traveled,  and  which,  as 
indicating  a  staff  officer,  was  surmounted 
by  a  small  flag  with  an  eagle.  Now,  it  was 
the  hoarse  challenge  of  an  outpost,  some 
veteran  of  Bernadotte's  army,  which  occu- 
pied the  whole  line  of  country  from  Dus- 
seldorf  to  Nuremberg.  Pickets  of  dragoons, 
with  troops  of  led  horses  for  remounts,  hur- 
ried on,  and  long  lines  of  wagons  crammed 
the  road. 

At  last  I  joined  General  d'Auvergne, 
who,  with  all  the  ardor  of  the  youngest 
soldier,  was  preparing  for  the  march.  The 
hardy  veteran,  disdaining  the  use  of  a  car- 
riage, rode  each  day  at  the  head  of  his 
column,  and  went  through  the  most  minute 
detail  of  regimental  duty  with  the  colonels 
under  his  command. 

From  whatever  cause  proceeding  I  knew 
not,  but  it  struck  me  as  strange  that  he 
never  alluded  to  my  visit  to  Paris,  nor  once 
spoke  to  me  of  the  countess ;  and  while 
this  reserve  on  his  part  slightly  wounded 
me,  I  felt  relieved  from  the  embarrassment 
the  mere  mention  of  her  name  would  cause 
me,  and  was  glad  when  our  conversation 
turned  on  the  events  of  the  wrar.  Nor  was 
he,  save  in  this  respect,  less  cordial  than 
ever — manifesting  the  greatest  pleasure  at 
the  prospect  the  war  would  open  to  my  ad- 
vancement, and  kindly  presaging  for  me  a 
success  I  scarcely  dared  to  hope  for. 

"Nor  is  the  hour  distant,"  said  he  to 
me  one  morning  in  the  latter  end  of  Sep- 
tember, as  we  rode  side  by  side;  "the 
grand  movement  is  begun." 

Augereau,  with  his  powerful  corps 
d'armee  of  twenty  thousand,  pressed  on 
from  Frankfort  and  Mayence  ;  Bernadotte 
moved  up  on  his  flank  from  Nuremberg 
and  Bamberg  ;  Davoust  hastened,  by  forced 
marches,  from  the  Danube ;  wjiile  Soult 
and  Ney,  with  a  strong  force,  remained  in 
the  south,  and  in  observation  on  the  Aus- 
trian frontier.  Further  to  the  north  again 
were  the  new  levies  and  the  whole  Imperial 
Guard,  strengthened  by  four  thousand  ad- 
ditional men,  which,  together  with  Murat's 
cavalry,  formed  a  vast  line  embracing  the 
Prussian  frontier  on    the  west  and  south, 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OUBS." 


523 


and  converging  with  giant  strides  toward 
the  very  heart  of  the  kingdom.  Still — 
mid  all  the  thunders  of  marching  squad- 
rons, and  the  din  of  advancing  legions — 
diplomatists  interchanged  their  respective 
assurances  of  a  peaceful  issue  to  their  dif- 
ferences, and  politely  conveyed  the  most 
satisfactory  sentiments  of  mutual  esteem. 

On  the  1st  of  September  the  Emperor 
left  Paris  ;  but,  even  then,  covering  his  de- 
signs by  an  affected  hope  of  peace,  he  was 
accompanied  by  the  Empress  and  her  suite 
to  Mayence,  where  all  the  splendor  of  a 
court  was  suddenly  displayed  amid  the 
pom})  and  preparation  of  war.  On  the  6th, 
he  started  by  daybreak  ;  relays  of  horses 
were  in  waiting  along  the  road  to  Wetzlar, 
and  with  all  speed  he  hastened  forward  to 
Bamberg,  where  he  issued  his  grand  pro- 
clamation to  the  army. 

With  all  his  accustomed  eloquence  he 
represented  to  the  army  the  insulting  de- 
mands of  Prussia,  and  called  on  them,  as 
at  Austerlitz,  to  reply  to  such  a  menace  by 
one  tremendous  blow  of  victory,  which 
should  close  the  campaign. 

"  Soldiers  ! "  said  he,  "  you  were  about 
to  return  to  France,  to  enjoy  the  well-won 
repose  after  all  your  victories,  but  an  ene- 
m}T  is  in  the  field.  The  road  to  Paris  is  no 
longer  open  to  you — neither  you  nor  I  can 
tread  it,  save  under  an  arch  of  triumph." 

The  day  which  succeeded  the  issue  of 
this  proclamation,  a  cavalry  affair  occurred 
at  the  advance  posts,  in  which  the  Prus- 
sians were  somewhat  the  victors.  Two 
days  later,  a  courier  arrived  at  the  Impe- 
rial head-quarters  with  the  account  of 
another  and  more  important  action,  be- 
tween the  grenadiers  of  Lannes  and  a  part 
of  Suchet's  corps,  against  the  advanced 
guard  of  Prince  Hohenlohe,  commanded 
by  the  most  daring  general  in  the  Prussian 
service,  Prince  Louis.  A  cavalry  combat, 
which  lasted  for  near  an  hour,  closed  this 
brief  but  bloody  encounter  with  the  death 
of  the  brave  prince,  who,  refusing  to  sur- 
render, was  run  through  the  body  by  the 
sabre  of  a  quartermaster  of  the  10th  Hus- 
sars. ■ 

General  d'Auvergne's  brigade  had  no 
share  in  this  memorable  action,  for  on  the 
9th  we  were  marched  to  Rudolstadt,  some 
miles  to  the  left  of  the  scene  of  the  en- 
counter ;  Hut  having  made  a  demonstra- 
tion in  that  quarter,  were  speedily  recalled, 
and  ordered  with  all  haste  to  cross  the 
Saale,  and  move  on  to  the  eastward.  It 
was  now  that  Napoleon's  maneuvers  be- 
came apparent.  The  same  intrigue  which 
succeeded  at  Ulm  was  again  to  be  employed 
here  :  the  enemy's  flank  was  to  be  turned, 


the  communication  with  his  reinforcements 
cut  off,  and  a  battle  engaged,  m  which  de- 
feat must  prove  annihilation.  Such,  then, 
was  the  complete  success  of  the  Emperor's 
movements,  that  on  the  12th  the  French 
army  was  posted  with  the  rear  upon  the 
Elbe,  while,  the  Prussians  occupied  a  line 
between  them  and  the  Rhine.  Tins  mas- 
terly movement  at  once  compelled  the  ene- 
my to  fall  back  and  concentrate  his  troops 
around  Jena  and  Weimar,  which,  from  that 
instant,  Napoleon  pronounced  must  be  the 
scene  of  a  great  battle. 

All  this  detail  I  have  been  obliged  to 
force  on  my  reader,  and  now  again  .return 
to  my  story. 

On  the  morning  of  the  13th,  Murat  ap- 
peared for  the  first  time  at  our  head-quar- 
ters, below  Jena,  and,  after  a  short  consul- 
tation with  the  staff,  our  squadrons  were 
formed  and  ordered  to  push  on  with  haste 
toward  Jena. 

Everything  now  showed  that  the  decisive 
hour  could  not  be  distant  :  couriers  passed 
and  repassed  ;  messengers  and  orderlies  met 
us  at  every  step  ;  while,  as  is  ever  the  case, 
the  most  contradictory  rumors  were  circu- 
lated about  the  number  and  position  of  the 
enemy.  As  we  neared  Lausnitz,  however 
we  learned  that  the  whole  Prussian  army 
occupied  the  "plateau"  of  Jena,  save  a 
corps  of  twenty  thousand  men  which  were 
stationed  at  Auerstiidt.  From  the  eleva- 
ted spot  we  occupied,  the  columns  of  Mar- 
shal Bernadotte's  division  could  be  seen 
marching  to  the  eastward.  A  halt  was 
now  commanded,  and  the  troops  prepared 
their  bivouacs,  when,  as  night  was  falling, 
a  staff  officer  rode  up,  with  orders  from  the 
Emperor  himself  to  push  on  without  delay 
for  Jena. 

The  road  was  much  cut  by  the  passage 
of  cavalry  and  wagons,  and,  as  the  night 
was  dark,  our  pace  was  occasionally  im- 
peded. I  was  riding  with  one  of  the  lead- 
ing squadrons,  when  General  cl'Auvergne 
directed  me  to  take  an  orderly  with  me, 
and  proceed  in  advance  to  make  arrange- 
ments for  the  quarters  of  the  men  at  Jena. 
Selecting  a  German  soldier  as  my  guide,  I 
dashed  forward,  and  soon  left  the  squadron 
out  of  hearing.  We  had  not  gone  far, 
when  1  remarked,  from  the  tramp  of  the 
horses,  that  we  were  upon  an  earthen  road, 
and  not  on  the  pavement.  I  questioned 
my  orderly,  but  he  was  positive  there  had 
been  no  turning  since  we  started.  I  paid 
no  more  attention  to  the  circumstance,  but 
rode  on,  hard  as  ever.  At  last  the  clay  be- 
came deeper  and  heavier,  the  sides  of  the 
way  closer,  and  all  the  appearance,  as  well 
as  the  gloom  would  allow  us  to  guess,  rath- 


524 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


er  those  of  a  by-road  than  the  regular 
"chaussee."  To  return  would  have  been 
hopeless  ;  the  darkness  gave  no  prospect  of 
detecting  at  what  precise  spot  we  hud  left 
the  main  road,  and  so  I  determined  to 
make  my  way  straight  onward,  at  all  haz- 
ards. 

A  tier  about  an  hour's  fast  trotting,  the 
orderly,  who  rode  some  paces  in  advance, 
called  out,  "A  light  !  "  and  then,  the  mo- 
ment after,  he  cried,  "There  are  several 
lights  yonder  !  "  I  reined  in  my  horse  at 
once,  for  the  thought  struck  me  that  we 
had  come  down  upon  the  Prussian  lines. 
Giving  my  horse  to  the  soldier,  with  orders 
to  follow  me  noiselessly  at  a  little  distance, 
I  walked  on  for  above  a  mile,  my  eyes 
steadily  fixed  upon  the  lights,  which  moved 
from  place  to  place,  and  showed,  by  their 
taper  glare,  that  they  were  not  watch-fires. 
At  length,  I  gained  a  little  ridge  of  the 
ground,  and  could  distinctly  see  that?  it 
was  a  line  of  guns  and  artillery  wagons, 
endeavoring  to  force  their  Avay  through  a 
narrow  ravine  ;  a  few  minutes  after,  I  heard 
the  sounds  of  French,  and,  relieved  of  all 
apprehensions,  I  mounted  my  horse,  and 
soon  came  up  with  them. 

They  were  four  troops  of  Lannes's  artil- 
lery, which,  by  a  mistake  similar  to  my 
own,  had  left  the  high-road,  and  entered 
one  of  the  field-tracks,  which  thus  led 
them  astray  ;  and  here  they  were,  jammed 
up  in  a  narrow  gorge,  unable  to  get  back  or 
forward.  The  officer  in  command  was  a 
young  colonel,  who  was  completely  over- 
whelmed by  his  misfortune  ;  for  he  inform- 
ed me  that  the  whole  artillery  of  the  divi- 
sion ivas  following  him,  and  would  inevit- 
ably be  involved  in  the  same  mishap.  The 
poor  fellow,  who  doubtless  would  have 
faced  the  enemy  without  a  particle  of  fear, 
was  now  so  horrified  by  the  event,  that  he 
ran  wildly  from  place  to  place,  ordering 
and  counter-ordering  every  instant,  and 
actually  increasing  the  confusion  by  his 
own  excitement.  Some  of  the  leading 
trains  were  unharnessed,  and  efforts  made 
to  withdraw  the  guns  from  their  position  ; 
but  the  axles  were,  on  both  sides,  imbed- 
ded in  the  rock,  and  seemed  to  defy  every 
effort  to  disengage  them. 

At  this  moment,  when  the  confusion  had 
reached  its  height,  and  the  horses  were 
unharnessed  from  the  guns,  the  men  stand- 
ing in  groups  around,  or  shouting  wildly 
to  each  other,  a  sullen  silence  spread  itself 
over  the  whole,  and  a  loud,  stern  voice 
called  out, 

"  Who  commands  this  division  ?  " 

"  General  Latour,"  was  the  answer. 

"Where  is  he? "said  the  first   speaker, 


so  close  to  my  car  that  I  started  round,  and 
saw  the  short,  square  figure  of  a  man  in  a 
great-coat,  holding  a  heavy  whip  in  his 
hand. 

"  With  the  main  body  at  the  rear." 

"  Cannoneers,  dismount ! "  said  the  other. 
"  Bring  the  torches  to  the  front." 

Scarcely  was  the  order  obeyed,  when  the 
light  of  the  firewood  fell  upon  his  features, 
and  I  saw  it  was  the  Emperor  himself.  In 
an  instant  the  whole  scene  was  changed. 
The  park  tools  were  taken  out,  working 
parties  formed,  and  the  ravine  began  to 
echo  to  the  strong  blows  of  the  brawny 
arms  ;  while  Napoleon,  with  a  blazing  torch 
in  his  hand,  stood  by  to  light  their  labors. 

Giving  directions  to  the  under-officers 
and  the  men,  he  never  deigned  a  word 
to  the  officers,  who  now  stood  trembling 
around  him,  and  were  gradually  joined  by 
several  more,  who  came  up  with  the  re- 
mainder of  the  tram. 

I  think  I  can  still  see  that  pale,  unmoved 
face,  which,  as  the  light  flickered  upon  it, 
gazed  steadfastly  at  the  working*  party. 
Not  a  syllable  escaped  him,  save  once,  when 
he  muttered  half  to  himself  : 

"And  this  was  the  first  battery  to  open 
its  fire  to-morrow  !  " 

General  Savary  stood  at  his  side,  but 
never  dared  to  address  him.  Too  well  he 
knew  that  his  deepest  anger  showed  itself 
by  silence.  By  degrees  the  granite  wall 
gave  way,  the  axles  once  more  became  free, 
and  the  horses  were  again  harnessed.  The 
gun-carriages  moved  slowly  through  the 
ravine,  nor  did  the  Emperor  quit  the  spot 
before  the  greater  part  of  the  train  passed. 
Then  mounting  his  horse,  he  turned  toward 
Jena;  and,  notwithstanding  the  utter  dark- 
ness of  the  night,  he  rode  at  full  speed. 
Following  the  clatter  of  the  horse's  hoofs, 
I  rode  on,  and  in  less  than  an  hour  reached 
a  small  cluster  of  houses,  where  a  cavalry 
picket  was  placed,  and  several  large  fires 
were  lighted,  beside  Which,  at  small  tables, 
sat  above  a  dozen  staff  officers  busily  writ- 
ing dispatches.  The  Emperor  halted  but 
for  a  second  or  two,  and  then  dashed  for- 
ward again  ;  and  I  soon  perceived  we  were 
ascending  a  steep  hill,  covered  with  ferns 
and  brushwood.  We  had  not  gone  far, 
when  a  single  aide-de-camp  who  accom- 
panied him  turned  his  horse's  head  and  rode 
rapidly  down  the  mountain  again. 

Napoleon  was  now  alone,  some  fifty  paces 
in  front.  I-  could  see  the  faint  outline 
through  the  darkness,  my  sight  guided  by 
my  hearing  to  the  spot.  His  pace,  wherever 
the  ground  permitted,  was  rapid  ;  but  con- 
stantly he  was  obliged  to  hold  in,  and  pick 
his  steps  among  the  stones  and  dwarf  wood 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS. 


525 


that  covered  the  mountain.  Never  filial  1  I 
cease  to  remember  the  strange  sensations  I 
felt  as  I  followed  him  up  that  steep  ascent. 
There  was  he,  the  greatest  monarch  of  the 
universe,  alone,  wending  his  solitary  way 
in  darkness,  his  thoughts  bent  on  the  great 
event  before  him — the  tremendous  conflict- 
in  which  thousands  must  fall.  There  was 
a  sense  of  awe  in  the  thought  of  being  so 
near  to  one  on  whose  slightest  word  the 
destiny  of  nations  seemed  to  hang ;  and  I 
could  not  look  on  the  dark  object  before 
me  without  a  superstitious  feeling,  deeper 
than  fear  itself,  for  that  mightiest  of  men. 

My  thoughts  permitted  my  taking  no 
note  of  time,  and  I  know  not  how  long  it 
was  before  we  reached  the  crest  of  the  hill, 
over  whose  bleak  surface  a  cold,  cutting 
wind  was  blowing.  It  seemed  as  if  a  great 
table-land  extended  now  for  some  distance 
on  every  side,  over  which  the  Emperor  took 
his  way  as  though  accustomed  to  the 
ground.  While  I  was  wondering  at  the 
certainty  with  which  he  appeared  to  de- 
termine on  his  road,  I  remarked  the  feeble 
flickering  of  a  light  far  away  toward  the 
horizon,  and  by  which  it  was  evident  he 
guided  his  steps.  As  we  rode  on,  several 
watch-fires  could  be  seen  toward  the  north- 
west, stretching  away  to  a  great  distance, 
and  throwing  a  yellowish  glare  in  the  dark 
sky  above  them.  Suddenly  I  perceived  the 
Emperor  halt  and  dismount,  and  as  speedi- 
ly again  he  was  in  the  saddle  ;  but  now  his 
path  took  a  different  direction,  and  diverg- 
ed considerably  to  the  southward.  Curious 
to  learn  what  might  have  caused  his  change 
of  direction,  I  rode  up  to  the  spot,  and  got 
off.  It  was  the  embers  of  a  watch-fire  ; 
they  were  almost  extinguished,  but  still, 
as  the  horse's  hoof  struck  the  wood,  a  few 
sparks  were  emitted.  It  was  this,  then, 
which  altered  his  course ;  and  once  more 
he  pressed  his  horse  to  speed.  A  steep 
ascent  of  some  hundred  yards  lay  before 
us  now,  but,  on  gaining  the  top,  a  brilliant 
spectacle  of  a  thousand  watch-fires  met 
the  eye — so  close  did  they  seem,  it  looked 
like  one  great  volcanic  crater  blazing  on 
the  mountain-top  ;  while  above,  the  lurid 
glow  reddened  the  black  sky,  and  melted 
away  into  the  darkness  in.  clouds  *of  faint 
yellowish  hue.  Far,  very  far  away,  and  to 
the  north,  stretched  another  much  longer 
line  of  fires,  but  at  great  intervals  apart, 
and  occupying,  as  well  as  I  might  guess, 
about  two  leagues  in  extent.  Several 
smaller  fires  dotted  the  plain,  marking  the 
outpost  positions  ;  and  it  was  not  difficult 
to  trace  the  different  lines  of  either  army 
even  by  these  indications. 

While  I  yet  looked,  the   Emperor  had 


!  gained  a  short  distance  in  advance  of  me, 
and  suddenly  I  heard  the  hoarse  challenge 
of  a  sentry,  calling  out,  "  Qui  vive?" 
Buried  in  his  own  thoughts — perhaps  far 
too  deeply  lost  in  meditation  to  hear  the 
cry — Napoleon  never  replied,  nor  slackened 
Ins  speed.  "Qui  vive?"  shouted  .the  voice 
again  ;  and,  before  I  could  advance,  the 
sharp  bang  of  a  musket-shot  rang  out ;  an- 
other and  another  followed,  and  then  a  roll 
of  fire  swept  along  the  plain,  happily  nol 
in  the  direction  of  the  Emperor  :  but  al- 
ready he  had  thrown  himself  from  his 
horse,  and  lay  flat  upon  the  ground.  Not 
a  moment  was  now  to  be  lost.  I  dashed 
my  spurs  into  my  jaded  horse,  and  rode 
forward,  calling  aloud,  at  the  top  of  my 
voice — "  The  Emperor — the  Emperor  !  " 
Still,  the  panic  overbore  my  words,  and 
another  discharge  was  given  ;  with  one  bul- 
let I  was  struck  in  the  shoulder,  another 
killed  my  horse  ;  but,  springing  to  my  legs 
in  an  instant,  I  rushed  on,  repeating  my 
cry  ;  before  I  could  do  more  than  point  to 
the  spot,  Napoleon  came  forward,  leading 
his  horse  by  the  bridle.  His  step  was  slow 
and  measured,  and  his  face — for  many  a 
torchlight  was  now  gathered  to  the  place — 
was  calm  and  tranquil. 

"  Ye  are  well  upon  the  alert,  mes  en- 
fants"  said  he,  with  a  smile  ;  "see  that  ye 
be  as  ready  with  your  fire  to-morrow  !  "  A 
wild  cheer  answered  these  words,  while  he 
continued:  "These  are  the  new  levies, 
lieutenant — the  Guards  would  have  had 
more  patience.  Where  is  the  officer  who 
followed  me?" 

"  Here,  sire,"  said  I,  endeavoring  to  con- 
ceal the  appearance  of  being  wounded. 

"  Mount,  sir,  and  accompany  me  to  head- 
quarters." 

"My  horse  is  killed,  sire." 

"Yes,  pafbleu!  "  said  a  young  soldier, 
who  had  not  learned  much  respect  before 
his  superiors  ;  "and  he  has  a  ball  m  his 
neck  himself." 

"Are  you  wounded  ?"  said  the  Emperor, 
with  a  quickness  m  his  manner. 

"A  mere  flesh-wound  m  the  arm — of  no 
consequence,  sire." 

"  Let  the  surgeon  of  the  detachment  see 
to  this  at  once, "lieutenant,"  said  he  to  the 
officer  of  the  party  ;  "and,  do  you  come  to 
head-quarters  when  you  are  able."  With 
this,  the  Emperor  mounted  again,  and,  in 
a  few  seconds  more,  was  lost  to  our  sight. 

"Ventrelleu!"  said  the  old  Lieutenant, 
who  had  served  without  promotion  from 
the  first  battles  of  the  Kepubhc-,  "you'll 
be  a  colonel  for  that  scratch  on  your  epau- 
lette, if  we  only  beat  the  Prussians  to-mor- 
row ;  and  here  am  I,  with  eight  wounds 


628 


CHARLES  LEVERS    WORKS. 


from  lead  and  steel,  and  the  Petit  Caporal 
never  bade  me  visit  him  at  his  bivouac. 
Come,  come,  I  don't  wish  to  be  uhl'i  iendly 
— it's  not  your  fault,  it's  only  my  bad  for- 
tune.    And  here  comes  the  surgeon.*' 

The  lieutenant  was  right — the  epaulette 
had  the  worst  of  the  adventure — and,  in 
half  an  hour,  I  proceeded  on  my  way  to 
head-quarters. 


CHAPTER  LXVII. 

l'homme  rouge. 

Ojs"  my  way  to  the  Imperial  quarters,  I 
fell  in  with  some  squadrons  of  our  dra- 
goons, from  whom  I  learned  that  General 
d'Auvergne  had  just  received  orders  to  re- 
pair to  the  Emperor's  bivouac,  to  which 
several  officers  in  command  were  also  sum- 
moned. As  I  saw,  therefore,  that  I  could 
have  no  prospect  of  meeting  the  Emperor, 
I  resolved  merely  to  hold  myself  in  readi- 
ness, should  he — which  seemed  little  likely 
— think  of  me  ;  and  accordingly  I  took  up 
my  post  with  some  young  under-officers  of 
our  brigade,  at  a  huge  fire,  where  a  species 
of  canteen  had  been  established,  and  coffee 
and  corn-brandy  were  served  'out  to  all 
comers. 

The  recent  escape  of  Napoleon  at  the 
outposts  was  already  known  far  and  near, 
and  formed  the  great  topic  of  conversation, 
in  which,  I  felt  hurt  to  remark,  no  men- 
tion of  the  part  I  took  was  ever  made,  al- 
though there  were  at  least  a  dozen  different 
versions  of  the  accident.  In  one,  his  ma- 
jesty was  represented  to  have  rode  down 
upon,  and  sabred  the  advanced  picket  ;  in 
another,  it  was  the  Prussians  who  fired,  he 
having  penetrated  within  their  lines  to  re- 
connoiter — each  agreeing  in  the  one  great 
fact,  that  the  feat  was  something  which  no 
one,  save  himself,  could  have  done  or 
thought  of.  As  for  me,  I  felt  it  was  not 
my  part  to  speak  of  the  incident  at  all, 
until  his  majesty  should  first  do  so.  I 
listened,  therefore,  with  due  patience,  and 
some  amusement,  to  the  various  narratives 
about  me,  which  served  to  show  me,  by  one 
slight  instance,  the  measure  of  that  exag- 
geration with  which  the  Emperor's  name 
was  ever  treated,  and  convinced  me  that  it 
required'  not  time  nor  distance  to  color 
every  incident  of  his  life  with  the  strongest 
hues  of  romance.  The  topic  was  a  fruitful 
and  favorite  one,  and  certainly  few  sub- 
jects could  with  more  propriety  season  the 
hours  around  a  bivouac  lire  than  the  ex- 
ploits of  the  Emperor  Napoleon. 

Among  those  whose  reminiscences  went 


furthest  back,  was  an  old  sergeant-major  of 
infantry— a  scared,  and  seamed,  and  weather- 
beaten  little  fellow — who,  from  fatigues 
and  privations,  was  dried  up  to  a  mass  of 
tendons  and  fibres.  This  little  man  pre- 
sented one  of  those  strange  mixtures  with 
which  the  army  abounded — the  shrewdest 
common  sense  on  all  ordinary  topics,  with 
a  most  credulous  faith  in  any  story  where 
Napoleon's  name  occurred.  It  seemed,  in- 
deed, as  though  that  one  element,  occurring 
in  any  tale,  dispensed  at  once  with  the  rules 
which  should  govern  belief  in  common 
cases. 

The  invulnerability  of  the  Emperor  was, 
with  him,  a  fruitful  theme  ;  and  he  teemed 
with  anecdotes  of  the  Egyptian  and  Italian 
campaigns,  in  which  it  was  mcontestably 
shown  that  neither  shot  nor  shell  had  any 
effect  upon  him.  But  of  all  the  supersti- 
tions regarding  Napoleon,  none  had  such 
complete  hold  on  his  imagination,  nor  was 
more  implicitly  believed  by  him,  than  the 
story  of  that  little  "  Red  Man,"  who,  it 
was  asserted,  visited  the  Emperor  the  night 
before  each  great  battle,  and  arranged  with 
him  the  maneuvers  of  the  succeeding  day. 

"  L'Ho.mme  Rouge,"  as  he  was  called, 
was  an  article  of  faith  in  the  French  army 
that  few  of  the  soldiers  ever  thought  of 
disputing.  Some,  from  pure  credulity — 
some,  from  the  force  of  example — and 
some,  again, ^  from  indolence,  believed  .  in 
this  famed  personage  ;  but  even  the  veriest 
scoffer  on  more  solemn  subjects  would  have 
hesitated  ere  he  ventured  to  assail  the  al- 
most universal  belief  in  this  supernatural 
agency.  The  Emperor's  well-known  habit 
of  going  out  alone,  to  visit  pickets  and 
outposts  on  the  eve  of  a  battle,  was  a  cir- 
cumstance too  favorable  to  this  superstition 
not  to  be  employed  in  its  defense.  Besides, 
it  was  well  known  that  he  spent  hours  by 
himself,  when  none  even  of  the  marshals 
had  access  to  him  ;  and  on  these  occasions 
it  was  said  "  L'Homme  Rouge  "  was  with 
him.  Sentinels  had  been  heard  to  declare 
that  they  could  overhear  angry  words  pass- 
ing between  the  Emperor  and  his  guest — 
that  threats  had  been  interchanged  between 
them  ;  and,  on  one  occasion,  it  was  said 
that  the.  "  Red  Man  "  went  so  far  as  to  de- 
clare that,  if  his  advice  were  neglected, 
Napoleon  should  lose  the  battle,  see  his 
artillery  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy, 
and  behold  the  "Guard"  capitulate. 

"Milk  tonnerres I  what  are  you  saying  ?  " 
broke  in  the  little  man,  to  'the  grim  old 
soldier  who  was  relating  this.  "  You  know 
nothing  of  '  L'Homme  Rouge ' — not  a 
word — how  should  you  ?  But  /  served  in 
the  Twenty-second  of  the  Line — old  Mon- 


TOM  BURKE  OF  *0UR8." 


527 


goton's  corps — the  '  Faubourg  'Devils,'  as 
they  were  called.  He  knew  him  well.  It 
was  '  L'Homme  Rouge 'had  him  shot  for 
treason  at  -Cairo.  I  was  one  of  the  company 
drawn  for  his  execution  ;  and  when  he 
knelt  down  on  the  grass,  he  held  up  his 
hand  this  way,  and  cried  out  : 

"'Voltigeurs  of  the  Line,  hear  me! 
YoiT  have  all  known  me  many  years  :  you 
have  seen  whether  I  could  face  the  enemy 
like  a  man  ;  and  you  can  tell  whether  I 
cared  for  the  heaviest  charge  that  ever 
shook  a  square.  You  know,  also,  whether 
I  was  true  to  our  general.  Well,  it  is 
"  L'Homme  Rouge  "  who  has  brought  me 
to  this.  And  now — carry  arms  ! — all  to- 
gether— come,  mes  enfants,  try  it  again — 
carry  arms  ! — ay,  that's  better — present 
arms  ! — fire  ! ' 

"  MorMeu!  the  word  was  not  well  out 
when  he  was  dead,  and  there,  through  the 
smoke — as  plain  as  I  see  you  now — I  saw 
the  figure  of  a  little  fellow,  dressed  in 
scarlet — feather  and  boots  all  the  same  ! — he 
was  standing  over  the  corpse,  and  threaten- 
ing it  with  his  hands  ;  and  that,"  said  he, 
in  a  solemn  voice,  "  that  was  '  L'Homme 
Rouge. ' " 

This  anecdote  was  conclusive.  There 
was  no  gainsaying  the  assertions  of  a  man 
who  had,  with  his  own  eyes,  seen  the  cele- 
brated "  Red  Man  ;  "  and  from  that  instant 
he  enjoyed  a  decided  monopoly  of  every- 
thing that  concerned  his  private  history. 

According  to  the  sergeant-major's  ver- 
sion— and  who  could  venture  , to  contradict 
him  ? — "  L'Homme  Rouge  "  was  not  the 
confidential  adviser  and  friendly  counselor 
of  the  Emperor,  but,  on  the  contrary,  his 
evil  genius— perpetually  employed  in  thwart- 
ing his  plans  and  opposing  his*  views.  Each 
seemed  to  have  his  hour  of  triumph  alter- 
nately. Now  it  was  the  Red  Man,  now 
Napoleon,  who  stood  m  the  ascenda'ht. 
Fortune  for  a  Song  period  had  been  constant 
to  the  Emperor,  and  victory  crowned  every 
battle.  This  had,  it  seemed,  greatly  cha- 
grined "L'Homme  Rouge,"  who,  for  years 
past,  had  not  been  seen  nor  heard  of. 
The  last  tradition  of  him  was  a  story  told 
by  one  of  the  sentinels  on  guard  at  the 
general's  quarters  at  Mount  Tabor. 

It  was  midnight— -all  was  still  and  silent 
in  the  camp.  The  soldiers  slept  as  men 
sleep  before  a  battle — when  the  old  gren- 
adier who  walked  his  short  post  before 
General  Bonaparte's  tent  heard  a  quick 
tread  approaching  him.  ' '  Qui  vive  ?  "  cried 
he  ;  but  there  was  no  reply. — "  Qui  vive  ?  " 
called  the  sentry  once  more  ;  but  as  he  did 
so  he  leaped  backward  and  brought  his 
musket  to  the  charge,  for  just  then  some- 


thing brushed  close  by  him  and  entered  the 
tent. 

For  a  moment  or  two  he  doubted  what 
should  be  done  Should  he  turn  out  the 
guard  ?  It  was  only  to  be  laughed  at — 
that  would  never  do.  .  But  what  if  it  really 
were  somebody  who  had  penetrated  to  the 
general's  quarters  ?  As  this  thought  struck 
him,  he  kept  up  close  to  the  tent,  and 
there,  true  enough,  he  heard  the  voices  of 
two  persons  speaking. 

"Ah  !  thou  here  ?  "  said  Bonaparte.  "  I 
scarce  expected  to  see  thee  so  far  from 
France  ! " 

"  Alas  !  "  said  the  other  with  a  deep  sigh, 
"  what  land  is  now  open  to  me — or  whither 
shall  I  fly  to  ?  I  took  refuge  in  Brussels — 
well,  what  should  I  see  one  morning,  but 
the  tall  shakos  of  your  grenadiers  coming 
up  the  steep  street.  I  fled  to  Holland — 
you  were  there  the  day  after.  '  Come.' 
thought  I,  'he's  moving  northward,  I'll 
try  the  other  extreme  ; '  so  I  started  for  the 
Swiss.  Sacrebleu !  the  roll  of  your  con- 
founded drums  resounded  through  every 
valley.  I  reached  the  banks  of  the  Po — 
your  troops  were  there  the  same  evening. 
I  pushed  for  Rome — they  were  preparing 
your  quarters,  which  you  occupied  that 
night.  Away,  then,  I  start  once  more  ; 
I  cross  mountains,  and  rivers,  and  seas,  and 
gain  the  desert  at  last.  I  thank  my  fortune 
that  there  are  a  thousand  leagures  between 
us— and  here  you  are  now.  For  pity's  sake, 
show  me,  on  that  map  of  the  world,  one 
little  spot  you  don't  want  to  conquer,  and 
let  me  live  there  in  peace,  and  be  sure  never 
to  meet  you  more." 

Bonaparte  did  not  speak  for  some  min- 
utes, and  it  seemed  as  though  he  were  in- 
tently considering  the  request  of  "L'Hom- 
me Rouge." 

"  There,"  said  he  at  length,  "  there  ;  you 
see  that  island  in  the  great  sea,  with  no- 
thing near  it,  thou  may  est  go  there." 

"How  is  it  called?"  said  "L'Homme 
Rouge." 

"  St.  Helena,"  said  the  General.  "It  is 
not  very  large ;  but  I  promise  thee  to  be 
undisturbed  there." 

"  You'll  never  come  there,  then  ?  Is  that 
a  pledge  ?  " 

"Never;  I  promise  it.  At  least,  if  I 
do,  thou  shalt  be  the  master,  and  I  the 
slave." 

"  Enough  !  I  go  now.  Adieu  !  "  said  the 
little  man  ;  and  the  same  instant  the  senti- 
nel felt  his  arm  brushed  by  some  one  pass- 
ing close  beside  him  ;  and  then  alt  was  si- 
lent in  the  tent  once  more. 

"Thus,  you  see,"  said  the  sergeant-ma- 
jor, "from  that  hour  it  was  agreed  on  the 


628 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


Emperor  should  conquer  the  whole  world 
and  leave  that  one  little  .spot  for  '  L'Homme 
Rouge.'  Parbleu  !  he  might  well  spare 
him  that  much."' 

"How  big  might  it  be,  that  island  ?" 
said  an  old  grenadier,  who  listened  with 
the  deepest  attention  to  the  tale. 

"  Nothing  to  speak  of  ;  about  the  size  of 
one  battalion  drawn  up  in  square."' 

"  Pardieu  !  a  small  kingdom  too  !  " 

"  Ah  !  it  would  not  do  for  the  Emperor," 
said  the  sergeant-major,  laughing  ;  an 
emotion  the  others  joined  in  at  once  ;  and 
many  a  jest  went  round  at  the  absurdity  of 
such  a  thought. 

I  sat  beside  the  watch-fire,  listening  to 
the  old  campaigning  stories,  till,  one  by 
one,  the  speakers  dropped  off  to  sleep.  The 
bronzed  veteran  and  the  boy  conscript,  the 
old  soldier  of  the  Sambre  and  the  beardless 
youth,  lay  side  by  side  ;  to  some  of  these  it 
was  the  last  time  they  should  slumber  on 
earth.  As  the  night  wrore  on,  the  sounds 
became  hushed  in  the  camp,  and  through 
the  thin  frosty  air  I  could  hear  from  a  long 
distance  off  the  tramp  of  the  patrols  and 
the  challenge  of  the  reliefs  as  the  outposts 
were  visited.  The  Prussian  sentries  were 
quite  close  to  our  advanced  posts,  and  when 
the  wind  came  from  that  quarter,  I  often 
heard  the  voices  as  they  exchanged  their 
signals. 

Through  the  entire  night,  officers  came 
and  went  to  and  from  the  tent  of  the  Em- 
peror. To  him,  at  least,  it  seemed  no  sea- 
son of  repose.  At  length,  when  nigh  morn- 
ing, wearied  with  watching,  and  tired  out 
with  expectancy,  I  leaned  my  head  on  my 
knees,  and  dropped  into  a  half-sleep.  Some 
vague  sense  of  disappointment  at  being  for- 
gotten by  the  Emperor  was  the  last  thought 
I  had  as  I  fell  off,  and  in  its  sadness  it  co- 
lored all  my  dreams.  I  remembered,  with 
all  the  freshness  of  a  recent  event,  the  curse 
of  the  old  hag  on  the  morning  I  had  quit- 
ted my  home  forever  ;  her  prayer  that  bad 
luck  should  track  me  every  step  through 
life  ;  and  in  the  shadowy  uncertainty  of 
my  sleeping  thoughts  I  believed  I  was  pre- 
destined to  misfortune. 

Almost  every  man  has  experienced  the 
fact,  that  there  are  times  in  life  when  im- 
pressions, the  slightest  in  their  origin,  will 
have  an  undue  weight  on  the  mind  ;  when, 
as  it  were,  the  clay  of  our  natures  becomes 
softened,  and  we  take  the  impress  of  pass- 
ing events  more  easily.  Some  vague  and 
shadowy  conception,  a  doubt,  a  dream,  is 
enough,  at  moments  like  these,  to  attain 
the  whole  force  of  a  conviction  ;  and  it  is 
wonderful  with  what  ingenuity  we  wind  to 
our  purpose  every  circumstance  around  us, 


and  what  pains,  we  take  to  increase  the  toils 
of  our  self-deception.  It  would  be  a  curi- 
ous thing  to  trace  out  how  much  of  our 
good  or  evil  fortune  in  life  had  its  source 
in  these  superstitions  ;  how  far  the  frame 
of  mind  fashioned  the  events  before  it ;  and 
to  what  extent  our  hopes  and  fears  were 
but  the  forerunners  of  destiny.  My  sleep- 
ing thoughts  were  of  the  saddest,  and  wjien 
I  awoke,  I  could  not  shake  them  off.  A 
heavy,  dense  fog  clothed  every  object 
round,  through  which  only  the  watch-fires 
were  visible,  as  they  flared  with  a  yellow, 
hazy  light  of  unnatural  size.  The  position 
of  these  signals  was  only  to  mark  the  in- 
equality of  the  ground  ;  and  I  now  could 
perceive  that  we  occupied  the  crest  of  along 
and  steep  hill,  down  the  sides  and  at  the 
bottom  of  which  fires  were  also  burning ; 
while  in  front  another  mountain  arose, 
whose  summit,  for  a  great  distance,  was 
marked  out  by  watch-fires.  This  I  conjec- 
tured, from  its  extent  and  position,  to  be 
the  Prussian  line.  At  the  front  of  the  Em- 
peror's quarters  several  led  horses  were 
standing,  whose  caparison  bespoke  them  as 
belonging  to  the  staff  ;  and  although  not 
yet  five  o'clock,  there  was  an  appearance 
of  movement  which  indicated  prepara- 
tion. 

The  troops,  however,  were  motionless  ; 
the  dense  columns  covered  the  ground  like 
a  garment,  and  stirred  not.  As  I  stood, 
uncertain  what  course  to  take,  I  heard  the 
noise  of  voices  and  the  heavy  tramp  of  many 
feet  near  ;  and  on  turning,  perceived  it  was 
the  Emperor,  *who  came  forth  from  his  tent, 
followed  by  several  of  his  staff.  A  large 
fire  blazed  in  front  of  his  bivouac,  which 
threw  its  strong  light  on  the  group,  where, 
even  in  a  fleeting  glance,  I  recognized  Gene- 
ral Gazan,  and  Nansouty,  the  commander 
of  the  Cuirassiers  of  the  Guard. 

'iWhat  hour  is  it?"  said  the  Emperor 
to  Duroc,  who  stood  near  him. 

'"Almost  five  o'clock,  sire." 

"It  is  darker  than  it  was  an  hour  ago. 
Maison,  where  is  Bernadotte  by  this  ?  —  at 
Domberg,  think  you  ?" 

"Not  yet,  sire;  he  is  no  laggard  if  he 
reach  it  in  three  hours  hence." 

"Ney  would  have  been  there  now,"  was 
the  quick  reply  of  Napoleon.  "Come, 
gentlemen,  into  the  saddle,  and  let  us 
move  toward  the  front.  Gazan,  put  your 
division  under  arms." 

The  general  waited  not  a  second  bidding, 
but  wheeled  his  horse  suddenly  round,  and, 
followed  by  his  aide-de-camp,  rode  at  full 
speed  down  the  mountain. 

"  There  is  the  first  streak  of  day,"  said 
the  Emperor,  pointing  to  a  faint  gray  light 


M  UJJJi     I     LEANED     FOR    SUPPORT    AGAINST    THE    WALT-    OP    A     HOUSE,    A    HOR8EMAN    TOPE     PAST, 
AND   WITH  ONE   VIGOROUS  CUT   HE  CLEFT   OPEN    MY   SHOULDER.      (P.  535.) 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


529 


above  the  distant  forest.  "It  breaks  like 
Austerlitz." 

"May  it  set  as  gloriously,"  said  old 
Nansouty,  in  his  deep,  low  voice. 

"  And  it  will,"  said  Napoleon.  "  What 
sayest  thou,  grognard?"  continued  he, 
turning  with  an  affected  xseverity  of  man- 
ner to  the  grenadier  who  stood  sentinel  on 
the  spot,  and  who,  with  a  French  soldier's 
easy  indifference,  leaned  on  the  cross  of  his 
musket  to  listen  to  the  conversation — 
"  what  sayest  thou  ?  art  eager  to  be  made 
corporal  ?  " 

"  Par  bleu  !  "  growled  out  the  rough  sol- 
dier, "the  grade  is  little  to  boast  of  ;  were 
I  even  a  general  of  division,  there  might 
be  something  to  hope  for." 

"  What  then  ?"  said  Napoleon,  sharply, 
— "  what  then  ?." 

"King  of  Prussia,  to  be  sure;  thou'lt 
give  away  the  title  before  this  hour  to- 
morrow." 

The  Emperor  laughed  aloud  at  the  con- 
ceit. Its  flattery  had  a  charm  for  him  no 
courtier's  well-turned  compliment  could 
vie  with  ;  and  I  could  hear  him  still  con- 
tinuing to  enjoy  it  as  he  rode  slowly  for- 
ward and  disappeared  in  the  gloom. 


■     CHAPTER  LXVIII. 

JENA     AND     AUERSTADT. 

"He  has  forgotten  me!"  said  I,  half 
aloud,  as  I  watched  the  retiring  figures  of 
the  Emperor  and  his  staff  till  they  were 
concealed  by  the  mist — "he  has  forgotten 
me !  Now  to  find  out  my  brigade.  A 
great  battle  is  before  us,  and  there  may 
still  be  a  way  to  refresh  his  memory." 
With  such  thoughts  I  set  forward  in  the 
direction  of  the  picket-fires,  full  sure  that 
I  should  nreet  some  skirmishers  of  our 
cavalry  there. 

As  I  went  the  drums  were  beating  toward 
the  distant  left,  and  gradually  the  sounds 
crept  nearer  and  nearer,  as  the  infantry 
battalions  began  to  form  and  collect  their 
stragglers.  A  dense  fog  seemed  to  shut 
out  the  dawn,  and,  with  a  thin  and  misty 
rain,  the  heavy  vapor  settled  down  upon 
the  eartlv,  wrapping  all  things  in  a  dark- 
ness deep  as  night  itself. 

From  none  could  I  learn  any  intelligence 
of  the  cavalry  quarter,  nor  had  any  of  those 
I  questioned  seen  horsemen  pass  near  them. 

"The  voltigeurs  in  the  valley  yonder 
may  perhaps  tell  you  something,"  said  an 
officer  to  me,  pointing  to  some  fires  in  a 
vol.  i—34 


deep  glen  beneath  us ;  and  thither  I  now 
bent  my  steps. 

The  dull  rolling  of  the  drums  graduallv 
swelled  into  one  continued  roar,  througn 
which  the  clank  of  steel  and  the  tremulous 
tramp  of  marching  columns  could  be  heard. 
Spirit-stirring  echoes  were  they,  these 
awakening  sounds  of  coming  conflid  !  and 
how  they  nerved  my  heart,  ami 
bounding  again  with  a  soldier's  ardor  !  As 
I  descended  the  hill,  the  noise  became 
gradually  fainter,  till  at  length  I  found 
myself  in  a  narrow  ravine,  still  and  silent 
as  the  grave  itself.  The  transition  was  bo 
sudden  and  unexpected,  that  for  a  moment 
I  felt  a  sense  of  loneliness  and  depression  ; 
and  the  thought  struck  me — "  What  if  I 
have  pushed  on  too  far  ?  Can  it  be  that  I 
have  passed  our  lines  ?  But  the  officer 
spoke  of  the  voltigeurs  in  front.  I  had 
seen  the  fires  myself — there  could  be  no 
doubt  about  it."  I  now  increased  my  speed, 
and,  in  less  than  half  an  hour,  gained  a 
spot  where  the  ground  became  more  open 
and  extended  in  front,  and  not  more  than 
a  few  hundred  paces  in  advance  were  the 
watch-fires  ;  and,  as  I  looked,  I  heard  the 
swell  of  a  number  of  voices  singing  in 
chorus  on  different  sides  of  me.  The  ef- 
fect was  most  singular,  for  the  sounds  came 
from  various  quarters  at  the  same  instant, 
and,  as  they  all  chanted  the  same  air,  the 
refrain  rang  out  and  filled  the  valley. 
Beating  time  with  their  feet,  they  stepped 
to  the  tune,  and  formed  themselves  to  the 
melody  as  though  it  were  the  band  of  the 
regiment.  1  had  often  heard  that  this  was 
a  voltigeur  habit,  but  never  was  witness  to 
it  before.  The  air  was  one  well  known  in 
that  suburb  of  Paris  whence  the  wildest 
and  most  reckless  of  our  soldiers  came,  and 
which  they  all  joined  in  celebrating  in  this 
rude  verse. 


Picardy  first,  and  then  Champagne — 

France  to  the  battle,  on,  boys,  on. 
Anjou,  Brittany,  and  Maine — 

Hurrah  tor  the  Faubourg  of  St.  Antoine  ! 

How  pleasant  the  life  of  a  voltigeur  : 
In  the  van  of  the  fight  he  must  ever  be. 

Of  roughing  and  rations  hc"s  always  sure — 
With  a  comrade's  share  he  may  well  make  free. 

Picardy  first,  and  then  Champagne — 
France  to  the  battle — on.  boys,  on. 

Anjou,  Brittany,  and  Maine — 
Hurrah  for  the  Faubourg  of  St.  Antoine. 

The  great  guns  thunder  on  yonder  hill, 
Closer  than  that  they  durst  not  go  : 

But  the  voltigeur  comes  nearer  still — 
With  his  bayonet  fixed  he  meets  the  foe. 


530 


CHARLES  LEVERS    WORKS. 


The  hussar's  coal  is  slashed  with  gold, 

He  rides  .-in  Arab  courser  fleel  : 
But  is  the  voltigeur  less  bold 

Who  meets  Ins  enemy  on  Ins  feel  ? 

The  cuirassier  is  clad  in  steel, 

His  massive  sword  is  straight  and  strong  ; 
But  the  voltigeur  can  charge  and  wheel 

With  a  step — his  bayonet  is  just  as  long. 

The  artillery-driver  must  halt  his  team 
If  the  currenl  be  fast  or  the  water  deep  : 

But  the  voltigeur  can  swim  the  stream, 
And  climb  the  bank,  be  it  e'er  so  steep. 

The  voltigeur  needs  no  trampet  sound — 

No  bugle  has  he  to  cheer  him  on  : 
Where  the  fire  is  hottest,  that's  his  ground — 

Hurrah  for  the  Faubourg  of  St.  Antoine  ! 

As  they  came  to  the  conclusion  of  this 
song,  they  kept  up  the  air  without  words, 
imitating  by  their  voices  the  roll  of  the 
drum  in  marching-time.  Joining  the  first 
party  I  came  up  with,  I  asked  the  officer  in 
what  direction  of  the  field  I  should  find  the 
cuirassier  brigade. 

"  That  I  can't  tell  yon,  comrade,"  said 
he ;  "  No  cavalry  have  appeared  in  our 
neighborhood,  nor  are  they  likely ;  for  all 
the  ground  is  cut  up  and  intersected  so 
much  they  could  not  act.  But  our  maitre 
d'armes  is  the  fellow  to  tell  you.  Holloa, 
Francois  !  come  up  here  for  a  moment." 

Before  I  could  ask  whether  this  was  not 
my  old  antagonist  at.  Elchingen,  the  in- 
dividual himself  appeared.  • 

"Eh — what?"  cried  he,  as  he  lifted  a 
piece  of  firewood  from  the  ground,  and 
stared  me  m  the  face  by  its  light.  "Not 
my  friend  Burke — eh  ?  By  Jove  !  so  it 
is.'" 

Our  cordial  greetings  being  over,  I  asked 
Maitre  Francois  if  he  could  give  me  any  in- 
telligence of  D'Auvergne's  division,  or  put 
me  in  the  way  to  reach  them. 

"  They're  some  miles  off  by  this  time," 
said  he, "coolly.  "When  I  was  below  the 
Plateau  de  Jena  last  night,  that  brigade 
you  speak  of  got  their  orders  to  push  for- 
ward to  Auerstadt,  to  support  Davoust's 
infantry.  I  mind  it  well,  for  they  were 
sorely  tired,  and  had  just  picketed  their 
horses,  when  the  orderly  came  down  with 
the  dispatch." 

"And  where  does  Auerstadt  lie  ?  " 

"  About  four  leagues  to  the  other  side  of 
that  tall  mountain  yonder." 

"What,  then,  shall  I  do  ?  I  am  dis- 
mounted, to  begin  with." 

"And  if  you  were  not — if  you  had  the 
best  horse  in  the  whole  brigade — what  would 
it  serve  you  now,  except  to  pass  the  day 
riding  between  two  battle-fields,  and  see 
nothing   of   either,  for  we  shall   have  hot 


work  here,  depend  upon  it  ?  No,  no  :  stay 
with  us;  be  a  voltigeur  for  to-day,  and 
we'll  show  you  something  you'll  not  see 
from  your  bearskin  saddle." 

"  But  I  shall  be  in  a  sad  scrape  on  ac- 
count of  my  absence." 

"  Never  mind  that  ;  the  man  that  takes 
his  turn  with  the  voltigeurs  of  the  Twenty- , 
second  won't  be  suspected  of  skulking.  And 
here  comes  the  major — report  yourself  to 
him  at  once." 

Without  waiting  for  any  reply,  Maitre 
Francois  accosted  the  officer  in  question, 
and,  in  a  very  few  words,  explained  my 
position. 

"Nothing  could  come  better  timed,"  said 
the  Major.  "One  of  ours  has  been  sent 
with  dispatches  to  the  rear,  and  we  may 
not  see  him  for  some  hours.  Again,  alight 
cavalry  man  must  know  how  to  skirmish, 
and  we'll  try  your  skill  that  way.  Come 
along  with  me." 

"To  our  next  meeting,  then,"  cried 
Francois,  as  I  hurried  on  after  the  major, 
whilst  once  more  the  voltigeur  ranks  burst 
forth  in  full  chorus,  and  the  merry  sounds 
filled  the  valley. 

I  followed  the  major  down  a  somewhat 
steep  and  rugged  path,  at  the  foot  of  which, 
and  concealed  by  a  low  copsewood,  was  a 
party  consisting  of  two  companies  of  the 
regiment,  who  formed  the  most  advanced 
pickets,  and  were  destined  to  exchange  the 
first  shots  with  the  enemy. 

Before  us  lay  a  defile,  partly  overgrown 
with  trees  on  either  side,  which  ascended 
by  a  gradual  slope  to  the  foot  of  the  hill  on 
which  the  Prussian  infantry  was  stationed, 
and  whose  lines  were  tracked  out  by  a  long 
train  of  watch-fires.  A  farm-house  and  its 
out-buildings  occupied  the  side  of  the  hill 
about  half-way  up,  and  this  was  garrisoned 
by  the  enemy,'  and  defended  by  two  guns  in 
position  in  the  defile.  To  surprise  the  post, 
and  hold  it  until  the  main  columns  came 
up,  was  the  object  of  the  voltigeur  attack  ; 
and  for  this  purpose  small  bodies  of  men 
were  assembling  secretly  and.  stealthily 
under  cover  of  the  brushwood,  to  burst 
forth  on  the  word  being  giv^n. 

There  was  something  which  surprised  me 
not  a  little  in  the  way  all  these  movements 
were  effected.  Officers  and  men  were  mixed 
up,  as  it  seemed,  in  perfect  confusion  ;  not 
approaching  in  regular  order,  or  taking  up 
a  position  like  disciplined  troops,  they 
came  in  twos  and  threes,  crouching  and 
creeping,  and  suddenly  concealing  them- 
selves at  every  opportunity  of  cover  the 
ground  afforded. 

Their  noiseless  and  cautious  gestures 
brought  to  my  mind  all   that   I  had  ever 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


531 


read  of  Indian  warfare,  and  in  their  eager 
faces,  and  quick,  piercing  looks,  I  thought 
1  could  recognize  the  very  traits  of  the  red 
men.  The  commands  were  given  by  sig- 
nals, and  so  rapidly  interchanged  were  they 
from  party  to  party,  that  the  different 
groups  seemed  to  move  forward  by  one  im- 
pulse, though  the  officer  who  led  them  was 
full  a  mile  distant  from  where  we  were. 

"  Can  you  use  a  firelock,  comrade  ?  "  said 
the  Major,  as  he  placed  in  my  hand  a  short 
musket,  such  as  the  voltigeurs  carried. 
"  Sling  it  at  your  back — you  may  find  it 
useful  up  yonder.  And  now  I  must  leave 
you  ;  keep  to  this  party.  But  what  is  this  ? 
— you  mustn't  wear  that  shako — you'd  soon 
be  picked  off  with  that  tower  of  black  fur 
on  your  head.  Corporal,  have  you  no  spare 
fo  raging-cap  in  your  kit  ?  Ah  !  that's 
something  more  becoming  a  'tirailleur,' 
and,  by  Jove  !  I  think  it  improved  you 
wonderfully."  The  circumstance  of  be- 
comingness  was  not  exactly  uppermost  in 
my  mind  at  the  moment,  but  certainly  I 
felt  no  small  gratification  at  being  provided 
with  the  equipment  both  of  cap  and  fire- 
arms, which  placed  me  on  an  equality  with 
those  about  me. 

Scarcely  had  the  major  left  us,  when  the 
corporal  crept  closely  to  my  side,  and  with 
that  mingled  respect  and  familiarity  a 
French  sous-officier  assumes  so  naturally, 
said:  "You  wished  to  see  something  of  a 
skirmish,  captain,  I  suppose  ?  Well,  you're 
like  enough  to  be  gratified — we're  closing 
up  rapidly  now." 

"  What  may  be  the  strength  of  your  bat- 
talion, corporal  ?  " 

"Twelve  hundred  men.  sir,  and  they're 
every  one  at  this  instant  in  the  valley, 
though  I'll  wager  you  don't  see  a  bough 
move,  nor  a  leaf  stirring,  to  show  where 
they  lie  hid.  You  see  that  low  copse  yonder 
-—well,  there's  a  company  of  ours  beneath 
its  shelter.  But  there  goes  the  word  to 
move  on."  A  motion  with  his  sword,  the 
only  command  he  gave,  communicated  the 
order,  and  the  men,  creeping  stealthily  on, 
obeyed  the  mandate,  till,  at  another  signal, 
they  were  halted. 

From  the  little  copse  of  brushwood  where 
we  now  lay,  to  the  farm-house,  the  ground 
was  completely  open,  not  a  shrub  nor  a 
bush  grew  ;  a  slight  ascent  of  the  road  led 
up  to  the  gate,  which  could  not  be  more 
than  three  hundred  paces  in  front  of  us. 
We  were  stationed  at  some  distance  to  the 
right  of  the  road,  but  the  field  presented 
no  obstacle  or  impediment  to  our  attack, 
and  thither  now  were  our  looks  turned — 
the  short  road  which  would  lead  to  victory 
or  the  grave. 


From  my  ambush  I  could  see  the  two 
field-pieces  which  commanded  the  road, 
and  beside  which  the  artillerymen  stood  in 
patient  attention.  With  what  a  strange 
thrill  I  watched  one  of  the  party,  as  from 
time  to  time  he  stooped  down  to  blow  the 
fuse  beside  the  gun,  and  then  seemed  en- 
deavoring to  peer  into  the  valley,  where  all 
was  still  and  noiseless.  As  well  as  I  could 
judge,  our  little  party  was  nearest  to  the 
front,  and  although  a  small  clump  to  the 
left  of  the  road  offered  a  safe  shelter  still 
nearer  the  enemy,  I  could  not  ascertain  if 
it  were  occupied.  Not  a  word  was  now 
spoken  ;  all  save  the  corporal  looked  eagerly 
toward  the  enemy  ;  he  was  watching  for 
the  signal,  and  knelt  down  with  his  drawn 
sword  at  his  side.  The  deathlike  stillness 
of  the  moment,  so  unlike  the  prelude  to 
every  movement  in  cavalry  combat ;  the 
painful  expectation  which  made  minutes 
like  years  themselves ;  the  small  number 
of  the  party,  so  dissimilar  to  the  closely 
crowded  squadrons  I  was  used  to  ;  but, 
more  than  all,  the  want  of  a  horse — that 
most  stirring  of  all  the  excitements  to  hero- 
ism and  daring — unnerved  me  ;  and  if  my 
heart  were  to  have  been  interrogated,  I 
sadly  fear  it  would  have  brought  little  cor- 
roboration to  the  song  of  the  voltigeurs, 
which  attributed  so  many  features  of  su- 
periority to  their  arm  of  the  service  above 
the  rest  of  the  army. 

A  thousand  and  a  thousand  times  did  I 
wish  to  be  at  the  head  of  a  cavalry  charge 
up  that  narrow  road  in  face  of  those  guns  ; 
ay,  though  the  mitraille  should  sweep  the 
earth,  there  was  that  m  the  onward  torrent 
of  the  horseman's  course  that,  left  no  room 
for  fear.  But  this  cold  and  stealthy  ap- 
proach,this  weary  watching, I  could  not  bear. 

"See,  see,"  whispered  the  corporal,  as 
he  pointed  with  his  finger  toward  the  clump 
to  the  left  of  the. road,  "how  beautifully 
done  ;  there  goes  another." 

As  he  spoke,  I  could  perceive  the  dark 
shadow  of  .something  moving  close  to  the 
ground,  and  finally  concealing  itself  in  the 
brushwood,  beneath  which  now  above  twen- 
ty men  lay  hid  ;  at  the  same  instant  a  deep, 
rolling  sound  like  far-off  thunder  was  heard, 
and  then  louder  still,  but  less  deep  in  vol- 
ume, the  rattling  crash  of  musketry.  At 
first  the  discharges  were  more  prolonged, 
and  succeeded  each  other  more  rapidly,  but, 
gradually,  the  firing  became  less  regular  ; 
then  after  an  interval  swelled  more  fully 
again,  and  once  more  relaxed. 

"Listen,"  said  the  corporal,  "can't  you 
hear  the  cheering  ?  There  again ;  the 
skirmishers  are'  falling  back,  the  fire  is  too 
heavy  for  them." 


332 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


"Which,  the  Prussians  ?" 

"To  be  sure,  the  Prussians.  Hark? 
there  was  a  volley — thai  was  no  tirailleur 
discharge — the  columns  arc  advancing  ; 
down,  men,  down  !"  whispered  he,  as,  ex- 
cited by  the  sounds  of  musketry,  some 
three  or  four  popped  up  their  heads  to 
listen.  At  the  same  instant  a  noise  in 
front  drew  our  attention  to  that  quarter, 
and  wc  now  saw  that  a  party  of  horse  artil- 
lerymen wore  descending  the  road  with  a 
light  eight-pounder  gun,  which  they  were 
proceeding  to  place  in  position  on  a  small 
knoll  of  ground  about  eighty  yards  from 
the  coppice  I  have  mentioned. 

"How  I  could  pick  off  that  fellow  on  the 
gray  horse,"  whispered  a  soldier  beside  me 
to  his  comrade. 

"And  bring  the  whole  fire  on  us  after- 
ward," said  the  other. 

"  What  can  we  be  waiting  for  ?  "  said  the 
corporal,  impatiently.  "  They  are  making 
that  place  as  strong  as  a  fortress,  and  there, 
see  if  that  is  not  a  reinforcement."  While 
he  spoke,  the  heavy  tramp  of  men  march- 
ing announced  the  approach  of  fresh 
troops,  and  by  the  bustle  and  noise  within 
the  farm-house  it  was  clear  the  prepara- 
tions for  its  defense  were  making  with  all 
the  activity  the  exigency  demanded. 

It  was  past  seven  o'clock,  but  as  the  day 
broke  more  out,  the  heavy  fog  increased, 
and  soon  grew  so  dense  as  to  shut  out  fiom 
our  view  the  Prussian  picket,  and  the  guns 
upon  the  road  ;  meanwhile  the  firing  con- 
tinued at  a  distance,  but,  as  it  seemed,  faint- 
er than  before. 

"Ha  !  there  it  comes  now,"  said  the  cor- 
poral, as  a  shrill  whistle  was  heard  to  our 
left.  "  Look  to  your  pieces,  men — steady." 
There  was  a  pause,  every  ear  was  bent  to 
listen,  every  breath'drawn  short,  when  again 
he  spoke.  "  That's  it ;  '  en  avant,'  lads  !  '  en 
avant  ! '  "  With  the  word  he  sprang  for- 
ward, but,  still  crouching,  he  went  as  if  the 
thick  mist  were  not  enough  to  conceal 
him. 

The  men  followed  their  leader  with  cau- 
tious steps,  their  carbines  in  hand  and  bay- 
onets fixed.  For  some  minutes  we  ascend- 
ed the  hill,  gradually  nearing  the  road, 
along  which  a  low  bank  offered  a  slight  pro- 
tection against  fire. 

The  corporal  halted  here  for  a  second  or 
two,  when  another  whistle,  so  faint  as  to 
be  scarcely  audible,  was  borne  on  the  air. 
With  a  motion  of  his  hand  forward  he  gave 
the  order  to  advance,  and  led  the  way  along 
the  roadside. 

As  we  followed  in  single  fi]e,  I  found  my- 
self next  the  corporal,  whose  every  motion 
I  watched  with  an  intensity  of  interest  I 


cannot  convoy.  At  last  he  stopped  and 
wheeled  round  ;  then,  kneeling  down,  he 
leveled  his  piece  upon  the  low  bank — a 
movement  quickly  followed  by  all  the  rest, 
who  in  silence  obeyed  his  signal.    . 

Directly  in  front  of  us  now,  and,  as  it 
seemed,  not  above  a  dozen  yards  distant, 
the  yellow  glare  of  the  artillery  fuse  could 
be  dimly  discerned  through  the  mist  ; 
thi  ther  every  eye  was  bent  and  every  musket 
pointed.  Thus  we  knelt  with  beating 
hearts,  when  suddenly  several  shots  rang 
out  from  the  valley  and  the  opposite  side  of 
the  road,  as  quickly  replied  to  by  the  enemy, 
and  a  smart  but  irregular  clattering  of 
musketry  followed.  "  Now,"  cried  the 
corporal,  aloud— "  now,  and  all  together  !" 
And  then,  with  one  long,  stunning  report, 
every  gun  was  discharged,  and  a  wild  cry 
of  the  wounded  blended  with  the  sounds  as 
we  cleared  the  fence  and  dashed  at  the 
guns.  "  Down,  men,  down  !  "  called  our 
leader,  as  we  jumped  into  the  road.  The 
word  was  scarce  uttered  when  a  bright  flash 
gleamed  forth,  a  loud  bang  succeeded,  and 
we  heard  the  grape-shot  crushing  down  the 
valley  and  tearing  its  way  through  the 
leaves  and  branches  of  the  brush,  wood. 

"  En  avant,  lads,  now's  your  time  !  " 
cried  the  corporal,  as  he  sprang  to  his  feet 
and  led  toward  the  gun.  With  one  vigor- 
ous dash  we  pushed  up  the  height,  just  as 
the  cannoneers  were  preparing  to  load.  The 
gunners  fell  back,  and  a  party  of  infantry 
as  quickly  presented  themselves. 

The  mist  happily  concealed  the  smallness 
of  our  force,  otherwise  the  Prussians  might 
have  crushed  us  at  once.  For  a  second, 
there  was  a  pause,  then  both  sides  fired,  an 
irregular  volley  was  discharged,  and  the 
muskets  were  lowered  to  the  charge.  What 
must  have  been  the  fate  of  our  little  party 
now  there  could  bono  doubt,  when  sudden- 
ly, through  the  blue  smoke  which  yet  lin- 
gered near  the  guns,  the  bright  gleaming 
of  bayonets  was  seen  to  flash,  while  the  loud 
"vivas  "of  our  own  soldiers  rent  the  air. 
So  rapid  was  the  rush,  and  so  thronging 
did  they  come,  it  seemed  as  if  the  very 
ground  had  given  them  up.  With  a  cry  of 
"Forward  !  "  on  we  went ;  the  enemy  re- 
tired and  fell  back  behind  the  cover  of  the 
road,  where  they  kept  up  a  tremendous  fire 
upon  the  gun,  to  which  now  all  our  efforts 
were  directed,  to  turn  against  the  walls  of 
the  farm-house. 

The  mist-  by  this  was  cleared  away,  and 
we  were  exposed  to  the  shattering  fire  which 
was  maintained  not  only  along  the  road,  but 
from  every  window  and  crevice  m  the  Avails 
of  the  farm-house  ;  our  men  fell  fast — sev- 
eral badly  wounded — for  the  distance  was 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS.' 


533 


less  than  half  musket-range,  even  to  the 
furthest. 

"  The  bayonet,  men  ! — the  bayonet  ! 
Leave  the  gun,  and  sweep  the  road  of  those 
fellows  yonder,"  said  the  Major,  as,  vaulting 
over  the  fence,  he  led  the  way  himself.  We 
were  now  reinforced,  and  numbered  fully 
four  companies,  so  that  our  attack  soon 
drove  in  the  enemy,  who  retreated,  still 
firing  within  the  court-yard  around  the 
farm-house. 

"  Bring  up  the-gun,  lads,  and  we'll  soon 
breach  them!"  said  the  Major;  but,  un- 
happily, the  party  to  whom  it  was  commit- 
ted being  annoyed  at  the  service  which  kept 
them  hack  when  their '  companions  were 
advancing,  had  hurled  the  piece  off  its 
carriage,  and  rolled  it  down  the  moun- 
tain. 

With  a  muttered  s acre  on  their  stupidity, 
the  officer  cried  out  to  scale  the  walls.  If 
honor,  and  rank,  and  wealth  had  lain  on 
the  opposite  side,  and  not  death  and  agony, 
they  could  not  have  obeyed  with  more  alac- 
rity ;  raised  on  each  other's  shoulders,  the 
brave  fellows  mounted  the  wall,  but  it  was 
only  to  fall  back  again  into  their  comrades' 
arms,  dead  or  mortally  wounded  :  still  they 
pressed  on.  A  reckless  defiance  of  danger 
had  shut  out  every  other  thought,  and  their 
cheers  grew  wilder  and  fiercer  as  the  fire 
told  upon  them,  while  the  shouts  of  triumph 
from  those  within  stimulated  them  to  the 
verge  of  madness. 

"  Stand  back,  men — stand  back  !  "  called 
the  Major  ;  "down  I  say."  As  he  spoke,  a 
dead  silence  followed,  the  men  retreated  be- 
hind the  cover  of  the  fence,  and  lay  down 
flat  with  their  faces  to  the  ground  ;  a  low, 
hissing  noise  was  then  heard,  and  then,  with 
a  clap  like  thunder,  the  strong  gate  was 
rent  into  fragments  and  scattered  in  blazing 
pieces  about  the  field.  The  crash  of  the 
petard  was  answered  by  a  cheer  wild  as  a 
war-whoop,  and  onward  the  infuriated  sol- 
diers poured  through  the  still  burning  tim- 
bers ;  and  now  began  a  scene  of  carnage 
which  only  a  hand-to-hand  encounter  can 
ever  produce.  From  every  door  and  win- 
dow the  Prussians  maintained  a  deadly  fire, 
but  the  onward  tide  of  victory  was  with  us, 
and  we  poured  down  upon  them  with  the 
bayonet ;  and  as  none  gave,  none  -asked  for 
quarter,  the  work  of  death  was  speedy.  To 
the  wild  shouts  of  battle,  the  crash,  the 
din,  the  tumult  of  the  fight,  a  dropping  ir- 
regular fire  succeeded,  and  then  came  the 
low,  wailing  cries  of  the  wounded,  the 
groans  of  the  dying,  and  all  was  over.  We 
were  the  victors — but  what  a  victory  !  The 
garden  was  strewn  with  our  dead,  the  hall, 
the   stairs,  every  room   was   covered  with 


bodies  of  our  brave  fellows,  their  rugged 
faces  even  sterner  than  in  life. 

For  some  minutes  it  seemed  as  though 
our  emotions  had  unnerved  us  all,  as  we 
stood  speechless,  gazing  on  the  fearful  scene 
of  bloodshed,  when  the  low  rolling  of 
drums,  heard  from  the  mountain  side,  star- 
tled every  listener. 

"The  Prussians  !  the  Prussians  !"  called 
out  three  or  four  voices  together. 

"No,  no,"  shouted  Francois.  "I  Avas 
too  long  a  'tambour'  not  to  know  that 
beat.     They're  our  fellows." 

The  drums  rolled  fuller  and  louder,  and 
soon  the  head  of  a  column  appeared  peering 
over  the  ascent  of  the  road.  The  sun  shone 
brightly  on  their  gay  uniforms  and  glancing 
arms,  and  the  tall  and  showily-dressed  "  tam-i 
bour-major"  stepped  in  advance  with  the 
proud  bearing  of  a  conqueror. 

"Form,  men,  and  to  the  front,"  said  the 
Major  of  the  voltigeurs,  Avho  knew  that  his 
place  was  in  the  advance,  and  felt  a  noble 
pride  that  he  had  Avon  it  bravely. 

As  the  column  came  up  the  road,  the 
voltigeurs,  scattered  along  the  fields  at  either 
side,  advanced  at  a  run  ;  but  no  longer  Avas 
there  any  obstacle  to  their  course,  no  enemy 
presented  themselves  in  sight,  and  Ave 
mounted  the  ascent  without  a  single  shot 
being  fired. 

As  I  stopped  for  time  to  recover  breath, 
I  could  not  help  turning  to  behold  the  val- 
ley, which,  noAV  filled  with  armed  men,  was 
a  grand  and  a  gorgeous  sight.  In  long 
columns  of  attack  they  came,  the  artillery 
filling  the  interspaces  betAveen  them.  A 
brilliant  sunlight  shone  out,  and  I  could 
distinguish  the  different  brigades,  with 
whose  colors  I  was  now  familiar.  Still  my 
eye  ranged  over  the  field  in  search  of  cav- 
alry, the  arm  I  loved  above  all  others — that 
which,  more  than  all  the  rest,  revived  the 
heroic  spirit  of  the  chivalrous  ages,  and 
made  the  horseman  feel  the  ancient  ardor 
of  the  belted  knight ;  but  none  were  within 
sight.  Indeed  the  very  nature  of  the  ground 
offered  an  obstacle  to  their  movement,  and 
I  saw  that  here,  as  at  Austerlitz,  the  day 
Avas  for  the  infantry. 

Meanwhile  Ave  toiled  up  the  height,  and 
at  length  reached  the  crest  of  the  ridge, 
and  then  burst  forth  a  sight,  such  as  all  the 
grandeur  I  had  ever  beheld  of  Avar  had  never 
presented  the  equal  to.  On  a  vast  table- 
land, slightly  undulating  on  the  surface, 
was  drawn  up  the  whole  Prussian  army,  in 
battle  array— a  splendid  force  of  nigh  thirty 
thousand  infantry,  flanked  by  ten  thousand 
sabres,  the  finest  cavalry  in  Europe.  By 
some  inconceivable  error  of  tactics  they  had 
offered  no  other  resistance  to. the  French 


534 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


ascent  of  the  mountain  than  the  skirmish- 
ing troops,  which  fell  hack  as  we  came  on  ; 
and  even  now  they  seemed  to  wait  patiently 
for  the  enemy  to  form  before  the  conflict 
should  begin.  As  our  columns  crowned 
the  hill  they  instantly  deployed,  fo  cover 
the  advance  of  those  who  followed  ;  but  the 
precaution  seemed  needless,  for,  except  at 
the  extreme  left,  where  avc  heard  the  firing 
before,  the  Prussian  army  never  moved  a 
man,  nor  showed  any  disposition  to  attack. 

It  was  now  nine  o'clock;  the  sky  clear 
and  cloudless  and  a  bright  autumnal  day 
permitted  the  eye  to  range  for  miles  on 
every  side.  The  Prussian  army,  but  forty 
thousand  strong,  was  drawn  up  in  the  form 
of  an  arch,  presenting  the  convexity  to  our 
front,  while  our  troops,  ninety  thousand  in 
number,  overlapped  them  on  either  flank, 
and  extended  far  beyond  them. 

The  battle  began  by  the  advance  of  the 
French  columns  and  the  retreat  of  the 
enemy,  both  movements  being  accomplished 
without  a  shot  being  fired,  and  the  whole 
seeming  the  maneuvers  of  a  field-day. 

At  length,  as  the  Prussians  took  up  the 
position  they  intended  to  hold,  their  guns 
were  seen  moving  to  the  front,  squadrons  of 
calvary  disengaged  themselves  from  behind 
the  infantry  masses,  and  then  a  tremendous 
fire  opened  from  the  whole  line.  Our  troops 
advanced  en  tirailleurs,  that  is,  whole  regi- 
ments thrown  out  in  skirmishing  order, 
which,  when  pressed,  fell  back,  and  per- 
mitted the  columns  to  appear. 

The  division  to  which  I  found  myself 
attached  received  orders  to  move  obliquely 
across  the  plain,  in  the  direction  of  some 
cottages,  which  I  soon  heard  was  the  village 
of  Vierzehn  Heiligen,  and  the  center  of  the 
Prussian  position.  A  galling  fire  of  artillery 
played  upon  the  column  as  it  went ;  and 
before  we  accomplished  half  the  distance 
our  loss  was  considerable.  More  than  once, 
too,  the  cry  of  "  Cavalry  !  "  was  heard,  and, 
quick  as  the  warning  itself,  we  were  thrown 
into  square,  to  receive  the  impetuous  horse- 
men, who  came  madly  on  to  the  charge. 
Ney  himself  stood  in  the  squares,  animating 
the  men  by  his  presence,  and  cheering  them 
at  every  volley  they  poured  in. 

"Yonder,  men,  yonder  is  the  center  of 
their  position,"  said  he,  pointing  to  the  vil- 
lage, which  now  bristled  with  armed  men, 
several  guns  upon  a  height  beyond  it  com- 
manding the  approach,  and  a  cloud  of  cav- 
alry hovering  near,  to  pounce  down  upon 
those  who  might  be  daring  enough  to  assail 
it.  A  wild  cheer  answered  his  words  :  both 
general  and  soldiers  understood  each  other 
well. 

In  two  columns  of  attack  the  division 


was  formed,  and  then  the  word  "For- 
ward !"  was  given.  "  Orderly  time,  men  ! " 
said  General  Dorsenne,  who  commanded 
that  with  which  I  was;  and,  obedient  to 
the  order,  the  ranks  moved  as  if  on  parade. 
And  now  let  me  mention  a  circumstance, 
which,  I  hough  trivial  in  itself,  presents  a 
feature  of  the  peculiar  character  of  courage 
which  distinguished  the  French  officer  m 
battle. 

As  the  line  advanced,  the  fire  of  the 
Prussian  battery,  which  by  this  had  found 
out  our  range  most  accurately,  opened 
severely  on  us,  but  more  particularly  on 
the  left  ;  and,  as  the  men  fell  fast,  and  the 
grape-shot  tore  through  the  ranks,  a  waver- 
ing of  the  line  took  place,  and  in  several 
places  a  broken  front  was  presented.  Dor- 
senne saw  it  at  once,  and  placing  himself 
m  front  of  the  advance,  with  his  back  to- 
ward  the  enemy,  he  called  out,  as  if  on 
parade,  "Close  order — close  order!  Move 
up  there — left,  right— left,  right!"  and  so 
did  he  retire  step  by  step,  marking  the  time 
with  his  sword,  while  the  shot  flew  past 
and  about  him,  and  the  earth  was  scattered 
by  the  torrent  of  the  grape-shot.  Courage 
like  this  would  seem  to  give  a  charmed  life, 
for,  while  death  was  dealing  fast  around 
him,  he  never  received  a  wound. 

The  village  was  attacked  at  the  bayonet 
point,  and  at  the  charge  the  enemy  received 
us.  So  long  as  their  artillery  could  con- 
tinue its  fire,  our  loss  was  fearful  ;  but, 
once  within  shelter  of  the  walls  and  close 
in  with  the  Prussian  ranks,  the  firing 
ceased,  and  the  struggle  was  hand  to  hand. 
Twice  did  we  win  our  way  up  the  ascent, 
twice  were  we  beaten  back  ;  strong  rein- 
forcements were  coming  up  to  the  enemy's 
aid,  when  a  loud  rolling  of  the  drums  and 
a  hoarse  cheer  from  behind  revived-  our 
spirits — it  was  Lannes's  division  advancing 
at  a  run.  They  opened  to  permit  our  re- 
tiring masses  to  re-form  behind  them,  and 
then  rushed  on.  A  crash  of  musketry  rang 
out,  and  through  the  smoke  the  glancing 
bayonets  flashed  and  the  red  flame  danced 
wildly. 

"  En  avant !  en  avantl  "  burst  from  every 
man,  as,  maddened  with  excitement,  we 
plunged  into  the  fray.  Like  a  vast  torrent 
tumbling  from  some  mountain  gorge,  the 
column  poured  on,  overwhelming  all  before 
it,  now  struggling  for  a  moment,  as  some 
obstacle  delayed,  but  could  not  arrest,  its 
march  ;  now  rushing  headlong,  it  swept 
along.  The  village  was  Avon,  the  Prussians 
fell  back,  their  guns  opened  fiercely  on  us, 
and  cavalry  tore  past,  sabring  all  who  sought 
not  shelter  within  the  walls.  But  the  post 
was  ours,  the  key  of  their  position  was  ic 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS. 


535 


our  hands,  and  Ney  sent  three  messengers 
one  after  the  other  to  the  Emperor  to  let 
him  know  the  result,  and  enable  him  to 
push  forward  and  attack  the  Prussian  cen- 
ter. Suddenly  a  wild  cry  was  heard  from 
the  little  street  of  the  village  :  the  houses 
were  in  flames.  The  Prussians  had  thrown 
in  heated  shells,  and  the  wooden  roofs  of 
the  cottages  caught  up  the  fire.  For  an 
instant  all  became,  as  it  were,  panic-struck, 
and  a  confused  movement  of  retreat  was 
begun  ;  but  the  next  moment  order  was 
restored — the  sappers  scaled  the  walls  of 
the  burning  houses,  and  with  their  axes 
severed  the  timbers,  and  suffered  the  blaz- 
ing mass  to  fall  within  the  buildings.  But 
by  this  time  the  Prussians  had  re-formed 
their  columns,  and  once  more  advanced  to 
the  attack.  The  moment  was  in  their 
favor :  the  disorder  of  our  ranks,  and  the 
sudden  fear  inspired  by  an  unlooked-for 
danger  still  continued,  when  they  came  on. 

Then,  indeed,  began  a  scene  of  bloodshed 
the  most  horrible  to  witness  :  through  the 
narrow  streets,  within  the  gardens,  the 
houses  themselves,  the  combatants  fought 
hand  to  hand — neither  would  give  way, 
neither  knew  on  which  side  lay  their  sup- 
porting columns — it  was  the  terrible  car- 
nage of  deadly  animosity  on  both  sides. 

Meanwhile  the  flames  burst  'forth  anew, 
and  amid  the  crackling  of  the  burning  tim- 
bers and  the  dense  smoke  of  the  lighted 
thatch,  the  fight  went  on.  "  Vandamme  ! 
Vandamme ! "  cried  several  voices,  in 
ecstasy;  "here  come  the  grenadiers!" 
And,  true  enough,  the  tall  shakos  peered 
through  the  blue  cloud. 

"  Hurrah  for  the  Faubourg  !  "  shouted  a 
wild  voltigeur,  as  he  waved  his  cap  and 
sprang  forward.  "  Let  us  not  lose  the 
glory  now,  boys  ! " 

The  appeal  was  not  made  in  vain.  From 
every  window  and  doorway  the  men  leaped 
down  into  the  street,  and  rushed  at  the 
Prussian  column,  which  was  advancing  at 
the  charge.  Suddenly  the  column  opened, 
a  rushing  sound  was  heard,  and  down  with 
the  speed  of  lightning  rode  a  squadron  of 
cuirassiers.  Over  us  they  tore,  sabring  as 
they  went,  nor  halted  till  the  head  of  Van- 
damme's  column  poured  in  a  volley.  Then 
wheeling,  they  galloped  back,  trampling  on 
our  wounded,  and  dealing  death  with  their 
broad-swords.  As  for  me,  a  sabre-cut  in 
the  head  had  stunned  me ;  and  while  I 
leaned  for  support  against  the  wall  of  a 
house,  a  horseman  tore  past,  and  with  one 
vigorous  cut  he  cleft  open  my  shoulder.  I 
staggered  back  and  fell,  covered  With  blood, 
upon  the  door- sill.  I  saw  our  column  pass 
on,  cheering,  and  heard  the  wild  crv,  "  En 


avant!  enavant!"  swelling  from  a  thou- 
sand voices ;  and  then,  faint  and  exhaust- 
ed, my  senses  reeled,  and  the  rest  was  like 
an  indistinct  dream. 


CHAPTER  LXIX. 

A   FRAGMENT     OF   A   MAITRE    D'ARJIES'    EXPERIENCES. 

Stunned,  and  like  one  but  half  awake, 
I  followed  the  tide  of  marching  men  which 
swept  past  like  a  mighty  river,  the  roar  of 
the  artillery  and  the  crash  of  battle  increas- 
ing the  confusion  of  my  brain.  All  dis- 
tinct memory  of  the  remainder  of  the  day 
is  lost  to  me.  I  can  recollect  the  explosion 
of  several  wagons  of  the  ammunition-train, 
and  how  the  splinters  wounded  several  of 
those  around  me.  I  also  have  a  vague, 
dreamy  sense  of  being  hurried  along  at  in- 
tervals, and  then  seeing  masses  of  cavalry 
dash  past ;  but  the  great  prevailing  thought 
above  all  others  is,  of  leaning  over  the  edge 
of  a  "charrette,"  where  I  la}^  with  some, 
wounded  soldiers,  to  watch  the  retreat  of 
the  Prussians,  as  they  were  pursued  by 
Murat's  cavalry.  Francois  was  at  my  side. 
and  described  to  me  the  great  events  of  the 
battle-;  but  though  I  seemed  to  listen,  the 
sounds  fell  unregarded  on  my  ear.  Even 
now,  it  seems  to  me  like  a  dream,  and  the 
only  palpable  idea  before  me  is,  the  heated 
air,  the  dark  and  lowering  sky,  and  the 
deafening  thunder  of  the  guns. 

It  is  well  known  how  the  victor}^  of  Jena 
was  crowned  by  the  glorious  issue  of  the 
battle  of  Auerstudt,  where  the  main  body 
of  the  Prussians,  under  the  command  of 
the  king  himself,  was  completely  beaten  by 
Davoust  with  a  force  not  half  their  num- 
ber. The  two  routed  armies  crossed  in 
their  flight,  while  the  headlong  fury  of 
the  Frenoh  cavalry  pressed  down  on  them, 
nor  did  the  terrible  slaughter  cease  til! 
night  gave  respite  to  the  beaten. 

The  victors  and  the  vanquished  entered 
Weimar  together,  a  distance  of  full  six 
leagues  from  the  field  of  battle.  All  strug- 
gle bad  long  ceased  ;  an  unresisting  massa- 
cre it  was  ;  and  such  was  the  disappoint- 
ment and  anger  of  the  people  of  the  country, 
that  the  Prussian  officers  were  frequently 
attacked  and  slain  by  the  peasantry,  whose 
passionate  indignation  made  them  suspect 
treachery  in  the  result  of  the  battle. 

All  whose  wounds  were  but  slight,  and 
whose  health  promised  speedy  restoration, 
were  mounted  into  wagons  taken  from  the 
enemy,  and  sent  forward  with  the  army. 
Among  this  number  I  found  myself,  and 


o38 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


that  same  night  slept  soundly  and  peace- 
fully in  the  straw  of  the  "charrette"  in 
which  I  traveled  from  Jena. 

The  Emperor's  head-quarters  were  es- 
tablished at  Weimar,  and  thither  all  the 
"ambulances"  were  conveyed;  while  the 
marshals,  with  their  several  divisions,  were 
sent  m  pursuit  of  the  enemy.  As  for  my- 
self, before  the  week  elapsed;  I  was  suffi- 
ciently recovered  to  move  about ;  for,  hap- 
pily, the  stunning  effects  which  immediate- 
ly followed  the  injury  were  its  worst  con- 
sequences, and  my  wound  in  the  shoulder 
proved  but  trifling. 

"And  so  you  are  determined  to  join  the 
cavalry  again,"  said  Francois,  as  he  sat  by 
my  side  under  a  tree,  where  a  cheerful  fire 
of  blazing  wood  had  drawn  several  to  enjoy 
its  comfort.  "  That  is  what  I  cannot  com- 
prehend by  any  stretch  of  ingenuity,  how 
a  man  who  has  once  seen  something  of  vol- 
tigeur  life  can  go  back  to  the  dull  routine 
of  dragoon  service." 

"Perhaps  I  have  had  enough  of  skir- 
mishing, Francois,"  said  I,  smiling. 

"Is  it  of  that  knock  on  the  pate  you 
speak  ?  "  said  he,  contemptuously.  "  Bah  ! 
the  heavy  shako  you  wear  would  give  a 
worse  headache.  Come,  come,  think  better 
out.  I  can  tell  you  " — here  he  lowered  his 
voice  to  a  whisper — -"  I  can  tell  you,  Burke, 
the  major  noticed  the  manner  you  held 
your  ground  in  the  old  farm-house.  I  heard 
him  refuse  to  send  a  reinforcement,  when 
the  Prussians  made  their  second  attack. 
'No,  no,'  said  he,  '  that  hussar  fellow  yon- 
der does  his  work  so  well,  he  wants  no  help 
from  us.'  When  he  said  that,  my  friend, 
be  assured  your  promotion  is  safe  enough. 
You  were  made  for  a  voltigeur." 

"Come,  Francois,  it's  no  use;  all  your 
flattery  won't  make  me  desert.  I'll  try  and 
join  my  brigade  to-morrow  ;  that  is,  if  I 
can  find  them." 

"  You  never  told  me  in  what  way  you 
first  became  separated  from  your  corps. 
How  was  it  ?  " 

"  There's  something  of  a  secret  there, 
Franyois  ;  you  mustn't  ask  me." 

"Ah,  I  understand,"  said  he,  with  a 
knowing  look,  and  a  gesture  of  his  hand,  as 
if  making  a  pass  with  his  sword.  "  Did 
you  kill  him  ?  " 

"  No,  not  exactly,"  said  I,  laughing. 

"Merely  gave  him  that  pretty  lunge  'en 
tierce'  you  favored  me  with,"  said  he,  put- 
ting his  hand  on  his  side. 

"Nor  even  that." 

"  Diable  !  then  how  was  it  ?  " 

"  I  have  told  you  it  was  a  secret." 

"Secret  !  Confound  it,  man,  there  are 
no  secrets  in  a  campaign,  except  when  the 


military  chest  is  empty,  or  the  commissary 
falls  snort  of  grub.  These  are  the  only 
things  one  ever  thinks  of  hushing  up. 
Come,  out  with  it." 

"  Well,  if  it  must  be,  I  may  as  well  have 
the  benefit  of  your  advice.  So  draw 
closer,  for  I  don't  wish  the  rest  to  hear  it." 

In  as  few  words  as  I  was  able,  I  explained 
to  Francois  the  circumstances  of  the  night 
march,  and  the  manner  of  my  meeting 
with  the  Emperor  at  the  ravine,  where 
the  artillery-train  was  stopped  ;  but  when  I 
came  to  the  incident  of  the  picket,  and 
mentioned  how,  in  rescuing  the  Emperor, 
my  horse  had  been  killed  under  me,  he 
could  no  longer  restrain  himself,  but  turn- 
ed to  the  rest,  who,  to  the  number  of  fif- 
teen or  sixteen,  sat  around  the  fire,  and 
burst  forth, 

"Mille  tonnerres!  but  the  boy  is  a  fool  !  " 
And  then,  before  I  could  interpose  a  word, 
blurted  out  the  whole  adventure  to  the 
company. 

There  was  no  use  now  to  attempt  any 
concealment  at  all ;  neither  was  there  to 
feel  anger  at  his  conduct — one  would  have 
been  as  absurd  as  the  other  ;  and  so  I  had 
to  endure,  as  best  I  could,  the  various  com- 
ments that  were  passed  on  my  behavior,  on 
the  prudence  of  which  certainly  no  second 
opinion  existed. 

"  You  must  be  right  certain  of  promo- 
tion, captain,"  said  an  old  sergeant,  with 
a  gray  beard  and  moustache,  "  or  you 
wouldn't   refuse   such  a  chance  as   that." 

"Diable  /"  cried  Francois,  rt  don't  you 
see  he  wouldn't  accept  of  it — he  is  too 
proud  to  wait  on  the  Petit  Caporal,  though 
he  asked  him  to  do  so." 

"  He'd  have  given  you  the  cross  of  the 
Legion  anyhow,"  said  another. 

"Ay,  by  Jove  !"  exclaimed  the  riding- 
master  of  a  dragoon  regiment,  "and  sent 
him  a  remount  from  his  own  stud." 

"And  you  think  that  modesty!"  said 
Francois,  whose  indignation  at  my  folly 
knew  no  bounds.  "Par  St.  Joseph  !  if  I'd 
been  as  modest,  it's  not  maitre  aVarmes  of 
a  voltigeur  battalion  I'd  be  to-day ;  though 
I  may  say,  without  boasting,  I'm  not  afraid 
to  cross  a  rapier  with  any  man  in  the  army. 
No,  no  ;  that's  not  the  way  I  managed." 

"  How  was  that,  Maitre  Franyois  ?"  said 
a  young  officer,  who  felt  curious  to  learn 
the  circumstance  to  which  he  seemed  to 
attach  a  story. 

"If  the  honorable  society  cares  to  hear 
it,"  said  Francois,  uncovering,  and  bowing 
courteously  to  all  around,  "  I  shall  have 
great  pleasure  in  recounting  a  little  inci- 
dent of  my  life." 

A  general  cry  of  acclamation  and  bravo 


TOM  BURKE  OF   "OURS." 


537 


met  the  polite  proposal,  while  Francois, 
accepting  a  "  goutte  "  from  a  canteen  pre- 
sented to  him,  began  thus  : 

"I  began  my  soldier's  life  at  the  first 
step  of  the  ladder.  I  was  a  drummer-boy 
at  Jemappes  ;  and,  when  I  grew  old  enough 
to  exchange  the  drumstick  for  the  sword, 
I  was  attached  to  the  chasseur's  a  clieval, 
and  went  with  them  to  Egypt.  I  could 
tell  you  some  strange  stories  of  our  doings 
there— I  don't  mean  with  the  Turks,  mark 
you,  but  amongst  ourselves — for  we  had 
little  affairs  with  the  sword  almost  every 
day  ;  and  I  soon  showed  them  I  was  their 
master —  But  that  is  not  to  the  purpose  ; 
what  I  am  about  to  speak  of  happened  in 
this  wise  : 

"  At  break  of  day,  one  morning,  the 
picket  to  which  I  was  joined  received  orders 
to  mount,  and  accompany  the  general 
along  the  bank  of  the  Nile  to  the  village  of 
Chebrhcis,  where  we  heard  that  a  Mame- 
luke force  were  assembling,  whose  strength 
and  equipment  it  was  important  to  ascer- 
tain. Our  horses  were  far  from  fresh  when 
we  started ;  the  day  previous  had  been 
spent  in  a  fatiguing  march  from  Khema- 
nieh,  crossing  a  dreary  desert,  with  hot 
sands  and  no  water.  But  General  Bona- 
parte always  expected  us  to  turn  out,  as  if 
we  had  got  a  general  remount ;  and  so  we 
made  the  best  of  it,  and  set  out  in  as  good 
style  as  we  could.  We  had  not  gone  above 
a  league  and  a  half,  however,  when  we 
found  that  the  slapping  pace  of  the  general 
had  left  the  greater  part  of  the  escort  out 
of  sight ;  and  of  a  force  of  four  squadrons, 
not  above  twenty  horsemen  were  present. 

"  The  Emperor — you  know  he  was  only 
general  then,  but  it's  all  the  same — laughed 
heartily  when  he  found  he  had  outrid- 
den the  rest ;  indeed,  for  that  matter,  he 
laughed  at  our  poor  blown  beasts,  that 
shook  on  every  limb,  and  seemed  like  to 
push  their  spare,  gaunt  bones  through  the 
trappings  with  which,  for  shame's  sake, 
we  endeavored  to  cover  them  ;  but  his  joke 
was  but  short-lived,  for  just  then,  from  be- 
hind the  wall  of  an  old  ruined  temple — 
whiz  ! — there  came  a  shattering  volley  of 
musketry  in  the  midst  of  us — the  only  mir- 
acle is  how  one  escaped  :  the  next  moment 
there  was  a  wild  hurrah,  and  we  beheld 
some  fifty  Mameluke  fellows,  all  glittering 
with  gold,  coming  down  full  speed  on  us, 
on  their  Arab  chargers.  Mille  cadavres, 
what  was  to  be  doife  ? — nothing,  you'd  say, 
but  run  for  it ;  and  so  we  should  have  done, 
if  the  beasts  were  able  ;  hut  not  a  bit  of  it, 
they  couldn't  have  raised  a  gallop  if  Mou- 
rn d  Bey  had  been  there  with  his  whole 
army,  and  so  we  put  a  good  face  on  it,  and 


drew  up  across  the  way,  and  looked  as  if 
going  to  charge.  Egad  !  the  Turks  were 
amazed  ;  they  halted  up  short,  and  stared 
about  them  to  see  what  infantry  or  artil- 
lery there  might  be  coming  up  to  our  as- 
sistance, so  boldly  did  we  hold  our  ground. 

"  '  We'll  keep  them  in  check,  general*' 
said  the  officer  of  the  picket.  '  Lose  no 
time  now,  but  make  a  dash  for  it,  and 
you'll  get  away.'  And  so,  without  more 
ado,  Bonaparte  turned  his  horse's  head 
round,  and,  driving  his  spurs  into  him,  set 
out  at  top  speed. 

"This  was  the  signal  for  the  Mameluke 
charge,  and  clown  they  came.  Sacristi  ! 
how  the  infidels  rode  us  down  !  over  and 
over  our  fellows  rolled,  men  and  horses  to- 
gether, while  they  slashed  with  their  keen 
scimitars  on  every  side — few  needed  a  sec- 
ond cut,  I  warrant  you. 

"  By  some  good  fortune,  my  beast  kept 
his  legs  in  the  melee,  and,  with  even  better 
luck,  got  so  frightened,  that  he  started  off, 
and  struck  out  in  full  gallop  after  the  gen- 
eral, who,  about  two  hundred  paces  in 
front  of  me,  was  dashing  along,  pursued 
by  a  Mameluke,  with  a  scimitar  held  over 
his  head.  The  Turk's  horse,  however, 
was  wounded,  and  could  not  gain  even  on 
the  tired  animal  before  him,  while  mine 
was  at  every  stride  overtaking  him. 

"  The  Mameluke,  hearing  the  clatter  be- 
hind, turned  his  head  ;  I  seized  the  mo- 
ment, and  discharged  my  only  remaining 
pistol  at  him,  alas  !  without  effect.  With 
a  wild  war-cry  the  fellow  swerved  round 
and  came  down  upon  me,  intending  to  take 
my  horse  in  flank,  and  hurl  me  over  ;  but 
the  good  beast  plunged  forward,  and  my 
enemy  passed  behind,  and  only  grazed  the 
haunches  as  he  went ;  the  moment  after  he 
was  at  my  side.  Par  bleu!  I  didn't  like 
the  companionship  ;  I  knew  every  turn  of 
a  broadsword  or  a  rapier  well,  but  a  curved 
scimitar,  keen  as  a  razor,  of  Damascus 
steel,  glittering  and  glistening  over  my 
head,  was  a  different  thing — the  great  dark 
eyes  of  the  fellow,  too,  glared  like  balls  of 
fire,  and  his  white  teeth  were  clenched. 
With  a  swing  of  his  blade  over  his  head,  so 
loosely  done  I  thought  he  had  almost  flung 
the  weapon  from  his  hand,  he  aimed  a  cut 
at  my  neck,  but,  quick  as  lightning,  I 
dropped  upon  the  mane,  and  the  sharp 
blade  shaved  the  red  feather  from  my 
shako,  and  sent  it  floating  in  the  air,  while, 
with  a  straight  point,  I  ran  him  through 
the  body,  and  heard  his  death-shout  as  he 
fell  bathed  in  blood  upon  the  sands.  The 
general  saw  him  fall,  and  cried  out  some- 
thing, but  I  could  not  hear  the  words,  nor, 
to  say  truth,  did  I  care  much  at  the  time ; 


o38 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


my  happiest  thought  just  then  was  to  see 
the  remainder  of  the  escort,  which  we  had 
left  behind,  coming  up  at  a  smart  canter. 
The  Turks  no  sooner  perceived  them  than 
they  wheeled  and  fled,  and  so  we  returned 
to  the  camp,  with  a  loss  of  some  twenty 
brave  fellows,  and  none  the  wiser  for  all 
our  trouble. 

"  'What  shall  I  do  for  you,  friend  ?'  said 
the  General  to  me,  as  I  stood  by  his  orders 
at  the  door  of  his  tent — '  what  shall  1  do 
for  you  ? ' 

"  *  Ma  foi,'  said  I,  with  a  shrug  of  my 
shoulders',  '  I.  can't  well  say  at  a  moment ; 
perhaps  the  best  thing  would  be  to  promise 
you'd  never  take  me  as  one  of  your  escort 
when  you  make  such  an  expedition  as  this 
morning's.' 

"  '  No,  no,  I'll  not  say  that ;  who  are  you? 
what's  your  grade  ?  ' 

"  '  Francois,  maitre  d'armes  of  the  4th 
Chasseurs  of  the  Guard,'  said  I,  proudly  ; 
and,  'indeed,  I  thought  he  might'  have 
known  me  without  the  question. 

"  'Ah,  indeed  !'  replied  he  gravely  ; 
'promotion  is  then  of  no  use  here — a  mai- 
tre d'armes,  like  a  general  of  division,  is  at 
the  top  of  the  tree.  Come,  I  have  it ;  a 
fellow  of  your  sort  is  never  out  of  scrapes, 
always  dueling  and  quarreling,  under  ar- 
rest three  days  in  every  week — I  know  you 
well.  Now,  Maitre  Franyois,  I'll  forgive 
you  the  first  time  you  ask  me  for  any  of- 
fense withm  my  power  to  pardon.  Go  ; 
you  are  satisfied  with  that  promise — is  it 
not  so  ? ' 

"  'Yes,  general,  and  I'll  soon  jog  your 
memory  about  it,'  said  I,  saluting  and  re- 
tiring from  the  tent. 

"  I  see  some  old  'braves'  of  the  Pyra- 
mids about  me  now,"  continued  Francois, 
"  and  so  I  need  not  dwell  on  the  events  of 
the  campaign.  You  all  know  how  General 
Bonaparte  left  the  army  to  Kleber  and  went 
back  to  France  ;  and  somehow  we  never  had 
much  luck  after  that ;  but  so  it  was,  I  came 
back  with  the  regiment,  and  was  at  the 
battle  of  Marengo,  when  our  brigade  cap- 
tured four  guns  of  Skal's  battery,  and  car- 
ried off  eleven  of  their  officers  our  prisoners. 
You'd  wonder  now,  comrades,  how  that 
piece  of  good  fortune  should  turn  out  so  ill 
for  me,  but  such  was  the  case.  After  the 
battle  was  gained,  General  Bonaparte  retired 
to  Gerofola  with  his  staff,  and  I  was  or- 
dered to  proceed  after  him,  with  the  Haupt- 
mann  Klingenswert  of  the  Austrian  army, 
one  of  our  prisoners  who  had  served  on  Me- 
las's  staff,  and  knew  everything  about  the 
effective  strength  of  the  army  and  all  their 


plans 


We  set  off  at  daybreak — it  was  in  June, 


and  a  lovely  morning  too— and  as  my  pris- 
oner was  an  officer  and  a  man  of  honor,  I 
look  no  escort,  but  rode  along  at  his  side. 
We  halted  at  noon  to  dine  in  a  little  grove 
of  cedars,  where  I  opened  my  canteen  and 
spread  the  contents  on  the  grass,  and  after 
regaling  ourselves  pleasantly,  we  lighted 
our  meerschaums  and  chatted  away  like  old 
comrades  over  the  war  and  its  chances.  A 
more  agreeable  Fellow  than  the  Austrian  I 
never  met  ;  he  told  me  his  whole  history, 
and  I  told  him  mine,  and  we  drank  Brii- 
derschaft  together,  and  swore  I  don't,  know- 
how  many  eternal  friendships.  The  devil 
was  just  amusing  himself  with  us  all  this 
time  though,  as  you'll  see  presently,  for  Ave 
soon  got  into  an  argument  about  the  charge 
in  which  our  brigade  captured  the  guns. 
He  said  that  if  the  ammunition  had  not 
failed  we  never  would  have  dared  the  attack, 
and  I  swore  that  the  discharges  were  pour- 
ing in  while  we  rode  down  on  the  battery. 

"  We  grew  warm  with  the  dispute,  and 
drank  deeper  to  cool  us  ;  and,  what  between 
the  wine  and  our  own  passion,  we  became 
downright  angry,  and  went  so  far  as  to 
interchange  something  not  like  '  Bruder- 
schaft.' 

"'Ah,  how  unfortunate  I  always  am,' 
said  I,  sighing.  'If  I  had  only  the  good 
luck  to  be  the  prisoner  now,  and  you  the 
escort — ' 

"  'What  then  ?'  said  he. 

" '  How  easily,  and  how  pleasantly  too, 
could  we  settle  this  little  affair.  The  ground 
is  smooth  as  velvet — there  is  no  sun — all 
still,  and  quiet,  and  peaceful.' 

"  'No,  no,' said  the  Austrian,  'I  could- 
n't do  what  you  propose — I  should  be  dis- 
honored forever  if  I  took  such  an  advantage 
of  you.  You  must  know,  Francois,'  for 
he  called  me  so,  recurring  at  once  to  his 
tone  of  kindliness,  '  I  am  the  first  swords- 
man of  my  brigade.' 

"  I  could  scarcely  avi»id  throwing  myself 
into  his  arms  as  he  spoke — never  was  there 
such  a  piece  of  fortune.  'And  I,'  cried  I, 
in  ecstasy,  '  I  the  first  of  the  whole  French 
army  ! '  You  know,  comrades,  I  only  said 
that  en  gascon,  and  to  afford  him  the  great- 
er pleasure  in  our  rencontre. 

"  We  soon  measured  our  swords  and 
threw  off  our  jackets.  '  Francois,'  said  he, 
'  I  ought  to  mention  to  you  that  my  lunge 
en  tierce  is  my  famous  stroke — I  rarely 
miss  running  my  adversary  through  the 
chest  with  it.'  • 

"  '  I  know  the  trick  well,'  said  I  ;  '  take 
care  of  my  "pass"  outside  the  guard.' 

"'Oh!  if  that's  your  game,'  said  he, 
laughing,  '  I'll  make  short  work  of  it.  Now, 
to  begin. ' 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS. 


539 


"  '  All  ready,'  said  T,  '  en  garde  ! '  And  we 
crossed  our  weapons.  For  a  German  he  was 
a  capital  swordsman,  and  had  a  very  pretty 
trick  of  putting-  in  his  point  over  the  hilt, 
and  wounding  the  sword  arm  ;  but  if  it  had 
not  been  for  all  the  wine  I  drank  the  affair 
would  have  been  over  m  a  second  or  two. 
As  it  was,  we  both  fenced  loose,  and  with- 
out any  judgment  whatever. 

"  'Ah  !  you  got  that,'  said  I,  'at  last,' 
as  I  pierced  him  in  the  back,  outside  the 
guard. 

'"No,  no,'  cried  he,  passionately ;  for  his 
temper  was  up,  and  he  would  not  confess  a 
touch. 

"'Well,  then,  that's  home,'  said  I, 
thrusting  beneath  his  hilt,  till  the  blood 
spurted  out  along  my  blade  and  even  in  my 
eyes. 

"  '  Yes,  that's  home,'  said  he,  staggering 
back,  while  one  of  his  legs  crossed  over  the 
other,  and  he  fell  heavily  on  the  grass.  I 
stooped  down  to  feel  his  heart,  and  as  I  did 
so,  my  senses  failed — my  limbs  tottered — 
and  I  rolled  headlong  over  him.  Truth 
was,  I  was  badly  wounded,  though  I  never 
knew  when — for  his  sword  had  entered  my 
chest,  beneath  a  rib,  and  cut  some  large 
vessels  in  the  lungs. 

"  The  end  of  it  all  was,  the  Austrian  was 
buried,  and  I  was  broke  the  service,  with- 
out pay  or  pension,  my  wound  being  de- 
clared by  the  doctors  an  incapacity  to  serve 
in  future. 

"Comrades,  we  often  hear  men  talk  of 
the  happy  day  before  them,  when  they  shall 
leave  the  army,  and  throw  off  the  knapsack, 
and  give  up  the  musket  for  the  mattock. 
Well,  trust  me,  it's  no  such  pleasure  as  they 
deem  it,  after  all.  There  was  I,  turned 
loose  upon  the  world,  with  nothing  but  a 
suit  of  ragged  clothes  my  comrades  made 
up  amongst  them,  my  old  rapier,  and  a  bad 
asthma.  Such  was  my  stock  in  trade,  to 
begin  life  anew,  at  the  age  of  forty-seven. 
And  so,  I  set  out  on  my  weary  way  back 
to  Paris." 

"  Didn't  you  try  your  chance  with  the 
Petit  Caporal  first?"  asked  one  of  the 
listeners. 

"To  be  sure  I  did.  I  sent  him  a  long 
petition,  setting  forth  the  whole  circum- 
stance, and  detailing  every  minute  par- 
ticular of  the  duel,  but  I  received  it  back, 
unopened — with  Duroc's  name,  and  the 
word  '  Eejected,'  on  the  back. 

"It  is  strange  how  unlit  we  old  soldiers 
are  for  any  occupation  in  a  civil  way,  when 
we've  spent  half  a  lifetime  campaign- 
ing. When  I  reached  Paris,  I  could  almost 
have  wedged  myself  into  the  scabbard  of 
my  sword.    Long  marches  and  short-rations 


had  told  heavily  on  me,  and  the  custom- 
house officer  at  the  barrier  told  me  to  pass 
on,  without  ever  stopping  to  see  that  I  car- 
ried no  contraband  goods  about  me. 

"I  had  a  miserable  time  enough  of  it  for 
twelve  or  fourteen  months.  The  only  way 
of  support  I  could  find  was  teaching  re- 
cruits the  sword  exercise — and  you  know 
they  couldn't  be  very  liberal  in  their  re- 
wards for  the  service  ;  but  even  this  poor 
trade  was  soon  interdicted,  as  the  police  re- 
ported that  I  encouraged  the  young  soldiers 
to  fight  duels — a  great  offense,  truly  ! — but 
you  see  everything  went  unluckily  with  me 
at  that  time. 

"  What  was  to  become  of  me  now  I 
couldn't  tell  ;  when  an  old  comrade,  pen- 
sioned off  from  Moreau's  army,  had  interest 
to  get  me  appointed  supernumerary,  as  they 
call  it,  in  the  Grand  Opera,  where  I  used  to 
perform  as  a  Roman  soldier,  or  a  friar,  or  a 
peasant,  or  some  such  thing,  for  five  francs 
a  week — not  a  sous  more  had  I,  and  the 
duty  was  heavier  than  on  active  service. 

"After  two  years,  the  'big  drum'  died 
of  a  rheumatic  fever,  from  beating  a  great 
solo  in.  a  new  German  opera,  and  I  was 
promoted  to  his  place  ;  for,  by  this  time,  I 
was  quite  recovered  from  the  effects  of  my 
wound,  and  could  use  my  arms  as  well  as 
ever.  Some  of  the  honorable  company  may 
remember  the  first  night  that  Napoleon 
visited  the  Grand  Opera,  after  he  was  named 
Emperor.  It  was  a  glorious  sight,  and  one 
can  never  forget  it — the  whole  house  was 
filled  with  generals  and  field-marshals — it 
was  a  grand  field-day,  by  the  glare  of  ten 
thousand  wax-lights  ;  and  the  Empress  was 
there,  and  her  whole  suite,  and  all  the  pret- 
tiest women  m  France.  Little  time  had  I 
to  look  at  them,  though  ;  for  there  was  I, 
in  the  corner  of  the  orchestra,  with  my  big 
drum  before  me,  on  which  I  was  to  play  the 
confounded  thing  that  killed  the  other  fel- 
low. It  was  a  strange  performance,  sure 
enough — for  in  the  midst  of  a  great  din  and 
crash,  came  a  dead  pause,  and  then,  I  was 
to  strike  three  solemn  bangs  on  the  drum, 
to  be  followed  by  a  succession  of  blows,  fast 
as  lightning,  for  five  minutes.  This  was  the 
composer's  notion  of  a  battle — distant  firing 
— Heaven  bless  his  heart  ! 
he'd  seen  some  of  it. 

"This  was  to  come  on  in  the  second  act, 
up  to  which  time  I  had  nothing  to  do. 
Why  do  I  say  nothing  ?  I  had  to  gaze  at 
the  Petit  Caporal,  who  sat  there  in  the  box 
over  my  head,  looking  as  stern  and  as 
thoughtful  as  ever,  and  not  minding  much 
what  the  Empress  said,  though  she  kept 
prattling  into  his  ear  all  the  time,  and  try- 
ins:    to    attract  his   attention.     Parbleu! 


I  was  wishing 


o40 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


he  was  not  thinking  of  all  the  nonsense  be- 
fore him — his  mind  was  on  real  battles — he 
had  seen  real  smoke — that  he  had  !  lie 
was  fatter  and  paler  than  he  used  to  lie,  and 
I  thought,  too,  his  frown  was  darker  than 
when  I  saw  him  last  ;  but,  to  be  sure,  that 
was  at  Marengo,  and  he  ever  looked  pleased 
on  the  field  of  battle.  I  couldn't  take  my 
eyes  from  him — his  fine  thoughtful  face,  so 
full  of  determination  and  energy,  reminded 
me  of  my  old  days  of  campaigning.  I 
thought  of  Areola  and  Rivoli,  of  Cairo  and 
the  Pyramids,  and  the  great  charge  at 
Marengo,  when  Desaix's  division  came  up, 
and  my  heart  was  nigh  bursting  when  I  re- 
membered that  I  wore  the  epaulette  no 
longer.  I  forgot,  too,  where  I  was — and 
expected  every  instant  to  hear  him  call  for 
one  of  the  marshals,  or  see  him  stretch  out 
his  hand  to  point  to  a  distant  part  of  the 
field  ;  and  so  absorbed  was  I  in  my  reveries, 
that  I  had  neither  eyes  nor  ears  for  any- 
thing around  me  ;  when,  suddenly,  all  the 
din  of  the  orchestra  ceased — not  a  sound 
was  heard — and  a  hand  rudely  shook  me  by 
the  arm,  while  a  voice  whispered  "New, 
now."  Mechanically  I  seized  the  drum- 
sticks, but  my  eyes  still  were  riveted  on  the 
Emperor — my  whole  heart  and  soul  were 
centered  in  him.  Again,  the  voice  called 
to  me  to  begin,  and  a  low  murmur  of  angry 
meaning  ran  through  the  orchestra.  I 
sprang  to  my  legs,  and  in  the  excitement  of 
the  moment,  losing  all  memory  of  time 
and  place,  I  rolled  out  the  'pas  de  charge.' 
Scarce  had  the  first  roulade  of  the  well- 
known  sounds  reverberated,  through  the 
house,  when  one  cry  of  '  Vive  V Empereur  !  ' 
burst  forth.  It  was  not  a  cheer — it  was  the 
heart-given  outbreak  of  ten  thousand  de- 
voted followers.  Marshals,  generals,  col- 
onels, ambassadors,  ministers,  all  joined — 
and  the  vast,  assembly  rocked  to  and  fro, 
like  the  sea  in  a  storm,  while  Napoleon 
himself,  slowly  rising,  bent  his  proud  head 
in  acknowledgment,  and  then  sat  down 
again,  amid  the  thundering  shouts  of  ac- 
clamation. It  was  full  twenty  minutes 
before  the  piece  could  proceed,  and  even 
then  momentary  outbreaks  of  enthusiasm 
would  occur  to  interrupt  it,  and  con- 
tinued to  burst  forth  till  the  curtain  fell. 
Just  thei*,  an  aide-de-camp  appeared  beside 
the  orchestra,  and  ordered  me  to  the  Em- 
peror's box. 

" Sacristi,   how  I  trembled!     I   didn't 
know  what  might  come  of  it. 

"  '  Ah,  coquin  !  '  said  he,  as  I  stood  ready 
to  drop  with  fear  at  the  door  of  the  box, 
'  this  has  been  one  of  thy  doings,  eh  ?' 
'     "  'Yes,  sire,'  muttered  I,  in  a  half- whis- 
per. 


"  'And  how  hast  thou  dared  to  spoil  an 
opera  m  this  fashion  ?'  said  he,  frowning 
fiercely.      '  Answer  me,  surah.' 

"'It  was  your  majesty's  fault,' said  I 
becoming  reckless  of  all  consequences.  '  Yci 
didn't  seem  to  care  much  for  all  their 
scraping  and  blowing,  and  so  I  thought 
the  old  "  roulade  "  might  rouse  you  a  bit. 
You  used  to  like  it  once,  and  might  still, 
if  the  times  be  not  altered.' 

"'And  they  are  not,' said  he  sternly, 
'  Who  art  thou,  that  seem'st  to  know  me 
thus  well  ? ' 

"  '  Old  Francois,  that  was maitre  cFarmes 
of  the  Fourth,  m  Egypt,  and  who  saved 
you  from  the  stroke  of  a  Mameluke  sabre  at 
Chebrheis.' 

"  '  What !  the  fellow  who  killed  an 
Austrian  prisoner  after  Marengo  ?  Why, 
I  thought  thee  dead.' 

"  '  Better  for  me  I  had  been,"  said  I. 
'You  wouldn't  read  my  petition.  Yes, 
you  may  frown  away,  general,'  said  I  to 
Duroc,  who  kept  glowering  at  me  like  a 
tiger.  '  I  began  life  at  the  tambour — I 
have  come  down  to  it  again — you  can't 
bring  me  lower,  parhleu  !  ' 

"  The  Emperor  Avhispered  something  to 
the  Empress,  who  turned  round  toward 
me  and  laughed,  and  then  he  made  a  sign 
for  me  to  withdraw.  Before  I  had  got  a 
dozen  paces  from  the  box,  an  aide-de-camp 
overtook  me. 

"  '  Francois,'  said  he,  'you  are  to  appear 
before  the  medical  commission  to-morrow, 
and  if  their  report  be  favorable,  you  are  to 
have  your  old  grade  of  maitre  d'armes.' 

"And  so  it  was.  Not  only  was  I  re- 
stored, but  they  even  placed  me  in  the  same 
regiment  I  served  in  during  the  campaigns 
of  Egypt  and  Italy.  The  corps,  however, 
was  greatly  changed  since  I  knew  it  before  ; 
and  so  I  asked  the  Emperor  to  appoint  me 
to  a  voltigeur  battalion,  where  discipline  is 
not  so  rigid,  and  pleasant  comrades  are 
somewhat  more  plentiful.  I  had  my  wish, 
gentlemen  ;  and  now,  with  your  permission, 
we'll  drink  the  '  Faubourg  St.  Antoine,' 
the  cradle  of  our  arm  of  the  service." 

In  repeating  "  Maitre  Francois's"  tale,  I 
could  only  wish  it  might  have  one-half  the 
success  with  my  reader  it  met  with  from 
his  comrades  of  the  bivouac  ;  this,  how- 
ever, I  cannot  look  for,  and  must  leave  it 
and  him  to  their  fortunes,  and  now  turn  to 
follow  the  course  of  my  own. 

Francois  was  not  the  only  one  who  felt 
surprised  at  my  being  able  to  resist  the 
pleasures  of  a  voltigeur's  life  ;  and  my 
companion  the  corporal  looked  upon  my 
determination  to  join  the  hussar  brigade  as 
one  of  those  extraordinary  instances  of  duty 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


541 


predominating  over  inclination.  "Not," 
said  he,  "but  there  may  be  brave  fellows 
and  good  soldiers  among  the  dragoons  ; 
though  having  a  horse  to  ride  is  a  sore 
drawback  on  a  man  s  courage  ;  and  when 
one  has  felt  the  confidence  of  standing  face 
to  face,  and  foot  to  foot  with  the  enemy,  I 
cannot  see  how  he  can  ever  bring  himself 
to  fight  in  any  other  fashion." 

"A  man  can  accustom  himself  to  any- 
thing, corporal,"  said  an  old,  hardy-looking 
soldier,  who  sat  smoking  with  the  most 
profound  air  of  thoughtful  reflection.  "I 
remember  being  in  the  '  dromedary  bri- 
gade '  at  Cairo  ;  few  of  us  could  keep  our 
seats  at  first ;  and  when  we  fell  off,  it  was 
often  hard  enough  to  resist  the  Mamelukes 
and  hold  the  beasts  besides  ;  but  even  that 
we  learned  with  time." 

This  explanation,  little  flattering  as  it 
was  to  the  cavalry,  seemed  to  convince  the 
listeners  that  time,  which  smooths  so  many 
difficulties,  will  even  make  a  man  content 
to  be  a  dragoon. 

"  Well,  since  }rou  will  not  be  '  of  ours,' " 
said  Francois,  "let  us  drink  a  parting  cup, 
and  say  good-by,  for  I  hear  the  bugles 
sounding  the  call." 

"A  health  to  the  '  Faubourg  St.  Antsine,' 
boys,"  cried  I,  and  a  hearty  cheer  re-echoed 
the  toast ;  and  with  many  a  shake-hands, 
and  many  a  promise  of  welcome,  whenever 
I  saw  the  error  of  my  ways  sufficiently  to 
doff  the  dolman  for  the  voltigeur's  jacket, 
I  took  leave  of  the  gallant  Twenty-second, 
and  set  out  toward  Weimar. 


CHAPTER   LXX. 

BERLIN     AFTER    "  J  E  N  A." 

As  the  battle  of  Austerlitz  was  the  death- 
blow to  the  empire  of  Austria,  so  with  the 
defeat  at  Jena  did  Prussia  fall,  and  that 
great  kingdom  became  a  prey  to  the  con- 
quering Napoleon.  W^ere  this  a  fitting- 
place,  it  might  be  curious  to  inquire  into 
the  causes  which  involved  a  ruin  so  sudden 
and  so  complete  ;  and  how  a  vast  and  high- 
ly organized  army  seemed  at  one  fell  stroke 
annihilated  and  destroyed. 

The  victories  of  Jena  and  Auerstiidt, 
great  and  decisive  as  they  were,  were  never- 
theless inadequate  to  such  results ;  and  if 
the  genius  of  the  Emperor  had  not  been  as 
prompt  to  follow  up  as  to  gain  a  battle, 
they  never  would  have  occurred.  But 
scarcely  had  the  terrible  contest  ceased, 
when  he  sent  for  the  Saxon  officers  who 
were  taken  prisoners,  and  addressing  them 


in  a  tone  of  kindness,  declared  at  once  that 
they  were  at  liberty  and  might  return  to 
their  homes,  first  pledging  their  words  not 
to  carry  arms  agamsl   France  or  her  allies. 
One  hundred  and  twenty  officers  of  differ- 
ent grades,  from  lieutenant-general  down- 
ward, gave   this    promise,    and    retired    to 
J  their  own  country,  extolling  the  generosity 
[  of  Napoleon.     This  first  step  was  soon  fol- 
j  lowed  up  by  another  and  more  important 
I  one  ;    negotiations  were  opened    with   the 
Elector  of   Saxony,  and  the  title  of  king 
offered  to  him,  on  condition  of  his  joining 
!  the  Confederacy  of  the  Rhine;  and  thus 
I  once  more  the  artful  policy  already  pursued 
with  regard  to   Bavaria  m   the  south,  was 
here  renewed  in  the  north  of  Germany,  and 
with  equal  success. 

This    deep-laid     scheme    deprived     the 
'.  Prussian  army  of  eighteen  thousand  men, 
'  and  that  on  the  very  moment  when  defeat 
and  disaster  had  spread  their  demoralizing 
influences  through  the  entire  army  ;  several 
I  of  their  greatest  generals  were  killed,  many 
[  more     dreadfully     or     fatally    wounded : 
i  Prince  Louis,  Riichel,  Schmettau,  among 
;  the  former  ;  the   Duke  of  Brunswick  and 
Prince  Henry  both  severely  wounded  ;  the 
duke  survived  but  a  few  days,  and  these  in 
the  greatest  suffering  ;  Marshal  Mollendorf, 
fthe  veteran  of  nigh  eighty  years,  had  his 
chest  pierced  by  a  lance.     Here  was  mis- 
fortune  enough    to  cause  dismay  and  de- 
spair, for,  unhappily,  the  nation  itself  was 
but  an  army  in  feeling  and  organization, 
and  with  defeat  every  hope  died  out,  and 
every  arm  was  paralyzed.     The  patriotism 
of  the  people  had  taken  its  place  beneath  a 
standard,  which,  when  once  lowered  before 
a  conqueror,  nothing  more  remained.    Such 
is  the  destiny  of  a  military  monarchy  ;  its 
only  vitality  is  victory — the  hour  of  disaster 
is  its  death-blow. 

The  system  of  a  whole  corps  capitulating, 
which  the  Prussians  had  not  scrupled  to 
sneer  at  when  occurring  in  Austria,  now 
took  place  here  with  even  greater  rapidity. 
Scarcely  a  day  passed  that  some  regiment 
did  not  laydown  their  arms,  and  surrender 
sur  parole.  A  panic  spread  through  the 
whole  length  and  breadth  of  the  land  ; 
places  of  undoubted  strength  were  surren- 
dered as  insecure  and  untenable.  No  rest 
nor  respite  was  allowed  the  vanquished : 
the  gay  plumes  of  the  lancers  fluttered  over 
the  vast  plains  in  pursuit ;  columns  of  in- 
fantry poured  in  every  direction  through 
the  kingdom  ;  and  the  eagles  glittered  in 
every  town  and  every  village  of  conquered 
Prussia.  Never  did  the  spirit  of  Napoleon 
display  itself  more  pitiless  than  in  this 
campaign,  for,  while  in  his  every  act  he 


542 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


evinced  a  determination  to  break  down  and 
destroy  the  nation,  the  Moniteur  at  Paris 
teemed  with  articles  in  derision  of  the  army 
whose  bravery  he  should  never  have  ques- 
tioned. Even  the  gallant  leaders  themselves 
— old  and  scarred  warriors — were  contemp- 
tuously described  as  blind  and  infatuated 
fanatics,  undeserving  of  clemency  or  con- 
sideration. Not  thus  should  he  have  spo- 
ken of  the  noble  Prince  Louis  and  the  brave 
Dnke  of  Brunswick.  They  fought  in  a 
good  cause,  and  they  met  the -death  of  gal- 
lant soldiers.  "I  will  make  their  nobles 
beg  their  bread  upon  the  highways,"  was 
the  dreadful  sentence  he  uttered  at  Weimar, 
and  the  words  were  never  forgotten. 

The  conduct  and  bearing  of  the  Emperor 
was  the  more  insulting  from  its  contrast 
with  that  of  his  marshals  and  generals, 
many  of  whom  could  not  help  acknowledg- 
ing in  their  acts  the  devotion  and  patriotism 
of  their  vanquished  foes.  Muratlost  no 
occasion  to  evince  this  feeling,  and  sent 
eight  colonels  of  his  own  division  to  carry 
the  pall  at  General  Schmettau's  funeral, 
who  was'  interred  with  all  the  honors  due 
to  one  who  had  been  the  companion  of  the 
Great  Frederick  himself. 

Soult,  Bernadotte,  Augereau,  Ney,  and 
Davoust,  with  the  several  corps  under  their 
command,  pursued  the  routed  forces  with 
untiring  hostility.  In  vain  did  the  King 
of  Prussia  address  a  supplicating  letter  ask- 
ing for  a  suspension  of  arms.  Napoleon 
scarcely  deigned  a  reply,  and  ordered  the 
advanced  guard  to  march  on  Berlin. 

But  a  year  before  and  he  had  issued  his 
royal  mandates  from  the  palace  of  the 
Caesars,  and  he  burned  now  to  date  his 
bulletins  from  the  palace  of  the  Great 
Frederick  ;  and  on  the  tenth  day  after  the 
battle  of  Jena  the  troops  of  Lannes's  divi- 
sion bivouacked  in  the  plain  around  Pots- 
dam. 

I.  had  joined  my  brigade  the  day  previous, 
and  entered  Berlin  with  them  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  23d  of  October. 

The  preparations  for  a  triumphal  entry 
were  made  on  the  day  before,  and  by  noon 
the  troops  approached  the  capital,  in  all 
the  splendor  of  fall  equipment.  First 
came  the  grenadiers  of  Oudinot's  brigade, 
one  of  the  finest  corps  in  the  French  army  ; 
their  bright  yellow  facings  and  shoulder- 
knots  had  given  them  the  sobriquet  of  the 
'Grenadier*  jaunts.'  They  formed  part 
of  Davoust's  force  at  Auerstadt,  and  were 
opposed  to  the  Prussian  guard  in  the  great- 
est shock  of  the  entire  day.  After  them 
came  two  battalions  of  the  Chasseurs  a  pied 
—a  splendid  body  of  infantry — the  remnant 
of  four  thousand  who  went  into  battle  on 


the  morning  of  the  fifteenth.  Then  fol- 
lowed a  brigade  of  artillery,  each  gun- 
carriage  surmounted  by  a  Prussian  stan- 
dard. These  again  were  succeeded  by  the 
red  lancers  of  Berg,  with  Marat  himself  at 
their  head ;  for  they  were  his  own  regi- 
ment, and  he  felt  justly  proud  of  such  fol- 
lowers. The  grand  duke  was  in  all  the 
splendor  of  his  full  dress,  and  wore  a  Span- 
ish hat,  looped  up,  with  an  immense  bril- 
liant in  front,  and  a  plume  of  ostrich 
feathers  floated  over  his  neck  and  shoulders. 
Two  hundred  and  forty  chosen  men  of  the 
Imperial  Guard  marched  two  and  two  after 
these,  each  carrying  a  color  taken  from  the 
enemy  in  battle.  Nansouty's  cuirassiers 
came  next ;  they  had  suffered  severely  at 
Jena,  and  were  obliged  to  muster  several  of 
their  wounded  men  to  fill  up  the  gaps  in 
their  squadrons.  Then  there  were  the 
horse  artillery  brigade,  whose  uniforms  and 
equipments,  notwithstanding  every  effort 
to  conceal  it,  showed  the  terrible  effects  of 
the  great  battle.  General  d'Auvergne's 
division,  with  the  hussars  and  the  light 
cavalry  attached,  followed  ;  these  were  suc- 
ceeded by  the  voltigeurs,  and  eight  battal- 
ions of  the  Imperial  Guard,  whose  ranks 
were  closed  up  with  the  Grenadiers  a  clie- 
val,.  and  more  artillery — in  all,  a  force  of 
eighteen  thousand — the  elite  of  the  French 
army.  Advancing  in  orderly  time,  they 
4  came — no  sound  heard  save  the  dull  rever- 
beration of  the  earth  as  it  trembled  beneath 
the  columns,  when  the  hoarse  challenge  to 
"halt"  was  called  from  rank  to  rank,  as 
often  as  those  in  the  rear  pressed  on  the 
leading  files — but',  as  they  reached  the 
Brandenburg  gate,  the  band  of  each  regi- 
ment burst  forth,  and  the  wide  Platz  re- 
sounded with  the  clang  of  martial  music. 

In  front  of  the  palace  stood  the  Emperor, 
surrounded  by  his  staff,  which  was  joined 
in  succession  by  each  general  of  brigade  as 
his  corps  moved  by.  A  simple  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  military  salute  was  all  Na- 
poleon gave  as  each  battalion  passed, 
until  the  small  party  of  the  Imperial  Guard 
appeared,  bearing  the  captured  colors  ;  then 
his  proud  features  relaxed,  his  eye  flashed 
and  sparkled,  and  he  lifted  his  chapeau 
straight  above  his  head,  and  remained  un- 
covered the  whole  time  they  were  marching 
past.  This  was  the  moment  when  enthu- 
siasm could  no  longer  be  restrained,  and  a 
cry  of  "  Vive  VEmpereur  /"  burst  forth, 
that,  caught  up  by  those  behind,  rose  m  ten 
thousand  echoes  along  the  distant  suburbs 
of  Berlin. 

To  look  upon  that  glorious  and  glittering 
band,  bronzed  with  battle,  their  proud 
faces  lit  up  with  all  the  pride  of  victory, 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


MS 


was  indeed  a  triumph;  and  one  instinct- 
ively turned  to  see  the  looks  of  wondering 
and  admiration  such  a  sight  must  have 
inspired.  i>ut  with  what  sense  of  sadness 
came  the  sudden  thought — this  is  the  proud 
exultation  of  the  conqueror  over  the  con- 
quered— here  come  no  happy  faces  and 
bright  looks  to  welcome  those  who  have 
rescued  them  from  slavery — here  are  no 
voices  calling  welcome  to  the  deliverer. 
No  :  it  was  a  people  crushed  and  trodden 
down — their  hard-won  laurels  tarnished  and 
dishonored — their  country  enslaved — their 
monarch  a  wanderer,  no  one  knew  where. 

Little  thought  they  who  raised  the  statue 
of  brass  to  the  memory  of  the  Great  Fred- 
erick, that  the  clank  of  French  musketry 
would  be  heard  around  it.  Rossbach  was, 
indeed,  avenged — and  cruelly  avenged. 

Never  did  a  people  behave  with  more 
dignity  under  misfortune  than  the  Prus- 
sians on  the  entrance  of  the  French  into 
their  capital.  The  streets  were  deserted — 
the  houses  closed — the  city  was  in  mourn- 
ing, and  none  stooped  to  the  slavish  adula- 
tion which  might  win  favor  with  *the 
conqueror.  It  was  a  triumph— but  there 
were  none  to  witness  it.  Of  the  nobles, 
scarce  one  remained  in  Berlin.  They  had 
fallen  in  battle,  or  followed  the  fortunes  of 
their  beaten  army,  now  scattered  and  dis- 
persed through  the  kingdom. 

Their  wives  and  daughters,  in  deepest 
mourning,  bewailed  their  ruined  country 
as  they  would  the  death  of  a  dearest  friend. 
They  cut  off  their  blonde  locks,  and  sor- 
rowed like  those  without  a  hope.  Their 
great  country  was  to  be  reduced  to  the 
rank  of  a  mere  German  province — their 
army  disbanded — their  king  dethroned. 
Such  was  the  contrast  to  our  hour  of  tri- 
umph— such  the  sad  reverse  to  the  gorgeous 
display  of  our  armed  squadrons. 

Scarcely  had  the  Emperor  established  his 
head-quarters  at  Potsdam,  than  the  whole 
administration  of  the  kingdom  was  begun 
to  be  placed  under  French  rule.  Prefects 
were  appointed  to  different  departments  of 
the  kingdom,  a  heavy  contribution  was  im- 
posed upon  the  nation,  and  all  the  offices 
of  the  State  were  subjected  to  the  control 
of  persons  named  by  the  Emperor.  Among 
these,  the  first  in  importance  was  the  post- 
office  ;  for,  while  every  precaution  was 
taken  that  no  interruption  should  occur  m 
the  transmission  of  the  mails  as  usual,  a 
"Cabinet  Noir"  was  established  here,  as 
at  Paris,  whose  function  it  was  to  open  the 
letters  of  suspected  persons,  and  make 
copies  of  them  ;  the  latter,  indeed,  were 
often  so  skillfully  executed  as  to  be  for- 
warded to  the  address,  while  the  originals 


were  preserved  as  "  proofs  "  against  parties. 
if  it  were  found  necessary  to  accuse  them 
afterward.  And  here  1  migb.1  mention, 
that  the  art  of  depositing  metals  in  a  mold 
by  galvanic  process  was  known  and  u,-w\  in 
imitating  and  fabrical  ing  I  he  seals  of  various 
writers,  many  years  before  tin'  discovery 
became  generally  known  in  Europe. 

The  invasion  of  private  right  involved  in 
this  breach  of  trust,  gave,  as  might  be 
.supposed,  the  greatest  offense  throughout 
the  kingdom  ;  but  the  severity  with  which 
every  case  of  suspicious  meaning  was  fol- 
lowed up  and  punished,  converted  the  feel- 
ings of  indignation  and  anger  into  those  of 
fear  and  trepidation — for  this  was  ever  part 
of  Napoleon's  policy.  The  penalty  of  any 
offense  was  made  to  exclude  the  sense  of 
ridicule  its  own  littleness  might  have  cre- 
ated, and  men  felt 'indisposed  to  jest  where 
their  mirth  might  end  in  melancholy. 

The  most  remarkable  case,  and  that 
which,  more  than  any  other,  impressed  the 
public  mind  of  the  period,  was  that  of  the 
Prince  de  Hatzfeld,  whose  letter  to  the 
King  of  Prussia  was  opened  at  the  post- 
office,  and  made  the  subject  of  a  capital 
charge  against  him.  Its  contents  were,  as 
might  be  imagined  from  the  channel  of 
transmission,  hot  such  as  could  substan- 
tiate any  treasonable  intention  on  his  part. 
A  respectful  homage  to  his  dethroned  sov- 
ereign— a  detail  of  the  mournful  feeling 
experienced  throughout  his  capital — and 
some  few  particulars  of  the  localities  occu- 
pied by  the  French  troops,  was  the  entire  ; 
and  for  this  he  was  tried  and  condemned 
to  death — a  sentence  which  the  Emperor 
commanded  to  be  executed  before  sunset 
that  same  day.  Happily  for  the  fate  of 
the  noble  prince,  as  for  the  fair  fame  of 
Napoleon,  both  Duroc  and-Eapp  were  ar- 
dently attached  to  him,  and.  at  their  ear- 
nest entreaties,  his  life  was  spared  ;  but  the 
impression  which  the  circumstances  made 
upon  the  minds  of  the  inhabitants  was 
deep  and  lasting,  and  there  was  a  day  to 
come  when  all  these  insults  were  to  be  re- 
membered and  avenged.  If  I  advert  to  the 
occurrence  here,  it  is  because  I  have  but 
too  good  reason  to  bear  memory  of  it,  in- 
fluencing, as  it  did,  my  own  future  for- 
tunes. 

It  chanced  that  one  evening,  when  sit- 
ting in  a  cafe  with  some  of  my  brother  of- 
ficers, the  subject  of  the  Prince  de  llatz- 
feld's  offense  was  mooted  ;  and,  in  the  un- 
guarded freedom  with  which  one  talks  tc 
his  comrades,  I  expressed  myself  delighted. 
at  the  clemency  of  the  Emperor,  and  con- 
ceived that  he  could  have  no  patf.  in  the 
breach  of  confidence  which  led  to  the  ac- 


544 


GHARLES  LEVER' 8  WORKS. 


cusation,  nor  countenance  in  any  way  his 
prosecution.  My  companions,  who  had 
little  sympathy  for  Prussians,  and  none  for 
aristocracy  whatever,  took  a  different  view 
of  the  matter,  and  scrupled  not  to  regrel 
that  the  sentence  of*  the  court-martial  had 
not  hem  executed.  The  discussion  grew 
warm  between  us,  the  more,  as  I  was  alone 
in  my  opinion,  and  assailed  by  several, 
who  overbore  mo  with  loud  speaking. 
Once  or  twice,  too,  an  obscure  taunt  was 
thrown  out  against  aliens  and.  foreigners, 
who,  it  was  alleged,  never  could  at  heart 
forgive  the  ascendancy  of  France  and 
Frenchmen. 

To  this  I  replied  hotly,  for,  while  not 
taking  to  myself  an  insult  which  my  con- 
duct in  the  service  palpably  refuted,  I  was 
hurt  and  offended.  Alas !  I  knew  too 
well  in  my  heart  what  sacrifices  I  had  made 
in  changing  my  country — how  I  had  bar- 
tered all  the  hopes  which  attach  to  one's 
fatherland  for  a  career  of  mere  selfish  am- 
bition. Long  since  had  I  seen  that  the 
cause  I  fought  in  was  not  that  of  liberty, 
but  despotism.  Napoleon's  glory  was  the 
dazzling  light  which  blinded  my  true 
vision  ;  and  my  following  had  something 
of  infatuation,  against  which  reason  was 
powerless.  I  say,  that  I  answered  these 
taunts  with  hasty  temper ;  and,  carried 
away  by  a  momentary  excitement,  I  told 
them,  that  they  it  was,  not  I,  who  would 
detract  from  the  fair  renown  of  the  Emperor. 

"  The  traits  you  would  attribute  to 
him,"  said  I,  "are  not  those  of  strength, 
but  weakness.  Is  it  the  conqueror  of 
Egypt,  of  Austria,  and  now  of  Prussia, 
who  need  stoop  to  this?  We  cannot  be' 
judges  of  his  policy,  or  the  great  events 
which  agitate  Europe.  We  would  pro- 
nounce most  ignorantly  on  the  greatness  of 
his  plans  regarding  the  destinies  of  nations  ; 
but,  on  a  mere  question  of  high  and  honor- 
able feeling,  of  manly  honesty,  why  should 
we  not  speak  ?  And  here  I  say  this  act 
was  never  his." 

A  smile  of  sardonic  meaning  was  the 
only  reply  this  speech  met  with,  and  one 
by  one  the  officers  rose  and  dropped  off, 
leaving  me  to  ponder  over  the  discussion, 
in  which  I  now  remembered  I  had  been 
betrayed  into  a  warmth  beyond  discretion. 

This  took  place  early  in  November,  and, 
as  it  was  not  referred  to  in  any  way  after- 
ward by  my  comrades,  I  soon  forgot  it. 
My  duties  occupied  me  from  morning  till 
night  ;  for  .General  d'Auvergne  being  in 
attendance  on  the  Emperor,  had  handed  mo 
over  for  the  time  to  the  department  of  the 
adjutant-general  of  the  army,  where  my 
knowledge  of  German  was  found  useful. 


On  the  17th  of  the  month  a  genera!  or- 
der was  issued,  containing  the  name«  of 
the  various  officers  selected  for  promotion, 
as  well  as  of  those  on  whom  the  cross  of 
the  "Legion"  was  to  be  conferred.  Need 
I  say  with  what  a  thrill  of  exultation  I  read 
my  own  name  among  the  latter,  nor  my 
delight  at  finding  it  followed  by  the  words, 
"  By  order  of  his  Majesty  the  Emperor,  for 
a  special  service  on  the  13th  October,  1806." 
This  was  the  night  before  the  battle,  and 
now  I  saw  that  I  had  not  been  forgotten, 
as  I  feared — here  was  proof  of  the  Emperor's 
remembrance  of  me.  Perhaps  the  delay 
was  intended  to  test  my  prudence  as  to 
secrecy,  and  perhaps  it  was  deemed  fitting 
that  my  name  should  not  appear  except  in 
the  general  list ;  in  any  case,  the  long- 
wished  reward  was  mine — the  proud  dis- 
tinction I  had  desired  for  so  many  a  day 
and  night. 

The  distribution  of  the  "cordons"  was 
always  made  the  occasion  of  a  grand  mili- 
tary spectacle,  and  the  Emperor  determined 
thai  the  present  one  should  convey  a  pow- 
erful impression  of  the  effective  strength  of 
his  army,  as  well  as  of  its  perfect  equip- 
ment ;  and  accordingly  orders  were  dis- 
patched to  the  different  generals  of  divi- 
sion within  twelve  or  fifteen  leagues  of 
Berlin,  to  march  their  corps  to  the  capital. 
The  28th  of  November  was  the  day  fixed 
for  this  grand  display,  and  all  was  bustle 
and  preparation  for  the  event. 

On  the  morning  of  the  22d,  I  received 
an  official  note  from  the  bureau  of  the  ad- 
jutant-general, desiring  me  to  wait  on  him 
before  noon  that  same  day.  Concluding  it 
referred  to  my  promised  promotion  to  the 
"  Legion,"  it  was  with  somewhat  of  a  flut- 
tered and  excited  feeling  I  found  myself,  at 
some  few  minutes  after  eleven  o'clock,  in 
the  ante-chamber,  which  already  was 
crowded  with  officers,  some  seeking,  some 
summoned  to  an  interview. 

In  the  midst  of  the  buzz  of  conversation, 
which,  despite  the  reserve  of  the  place,  still 
prevailed,  I  heard  my  name  called,  and  fol- 
lowed an  aide-de-camp  along  a  passage  into 
a  large  room,  which  opened  into  a  smaller 
apartment,  where,  standing  with  his  back 
to  the  fire,  I  perceived  Marshal  Berthier, 
his)  only  companion  being  an  officer  in  a 
staff  uniform,  busily  engaged  writing  at  a 
table. 

"  You  are  Captain  Burke,  of  the  Eighth 
Hussars,  I  believe,  sir  ?"  said  the  Marshal, 
reading  slowly  froni  a  slip  of  paper  he  held 
twisted  round  one  finger. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  By  birth  an  Irishman,"  continued  the 
Marshal ;  "entered  at  the  Poly  technique  in 


TOM  BURKE  .OF  "OUHS." 


54? 


August,  1801o  Am  T  correct?"  I  bowed. 
"Subsequently  accused  of  being  concerned 
in  the  conspiracy  of  Georges  and  Pichegru," 
resumed  he,  as  lie  raised  his  eyes  slightly 
from  the  paper,  and  fixed  them  search ing- 
ly  upon  me. 

"  Falsely  so,  sir,"  was  my  only  reply. 

"You  were  acquitted  —  that's  enough: 
a  reprimand  for  imprudence,  and  a  slight 
punishment  of  arrest,  was  all.  Since  thai 
time,  you  have  conducted  yourself,  as  the 
report  of  your  commanding  officer  attests, 
with  zeal  and  steadiness." 

He  paused  here,  and  seemed  as  if  he 
expected  me  to  say  something  ;  but  as  I 
thought  the  whole  a  most  strange  com- 
mencement to  the  ceremony  of  investing 
me  with  a  cross  of  the  Legion,  I  remained 
silent. 

"  At  Paris,  when  attached  to  the  elite, 
you  appear  to  have  visited  the  Duchess  of 
Montserrat,  and  frequented  her  soirees." 

"  Once,  sir,  but  once,  I  was  in  the  house 
of  the  duchess  ;  my  visit  could  scarcely  have 
occupied  as  many  minutes  as  I  have  spent 
here  this  morning.-" 

"  Dined  occasionally  at  the  Moisson 
d'Or,"  continued  the  Marshal,  not  noticing 
m  any  way  my  reply.  "  Well,  as  I  believe 
you  are  now  aware  that  there  are  no  secrets 
with  his  majesty's  government,  perhaps  you 
will  inform  me  what  are  your  relations  with 
the  Chevalier  Duchesne  ?  " 

For  some  minutes  previous  my  mind  was 
dwelling  on  that  personage,  and  I  answered 
the  question  in  a  few  words,  by  stating  the 
origin  of  our  acquaintance,  and  briefly  ad- 
verting to  its  course. 

"You  correspond  with  the  chevalier?" 
said  he,  interrupting. 

'"I  have  never  done  so,  nor  is  it  likely, 
from  the  manner  in  which  we  parted  last, 
that  I  ever  shall." 

"This  scarcely  confirms  that  impression, 
sir,"  said  the  Marshal,  taking  an  open  let- 
ter from  the  table  and  holding  it  up  before 
me.  "  You  know  his  handwriting — is  that 
it?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  have  no  doubt  it  is." 

"  Well,  sir,  that  letter  belongs  to  you  ; 
you  may  take  and  read  it.  There  is  enough 
there,  sir,  to  make  your  conduct  the  matter 
of  a  court-martial  ;  but  I  am  satisfied  that 
a  warning  will  be  sufficient.  Let  this  be 
such  then.  Learn,  sir,  that  the  plottings 
of  a  poor  and  mischievous  party  harmonize 
ill  with  the  duties* of  a  brave  soldier,  and 
that  a  captain  of  the  Guards  might  choose 
more  suitable  associates  than  the  dupes  and 
double-dealers  of  the  Faubourg  St.  Ger- 
main. There  is  your  brevet  to  the  Legion, 
signed  by  the  Emperor  ;  I  shall  return  it  to 

TOL.  1. — 35 


his  majesty.  Mayhap  at  some  future 
period  your  conducl  may  men:,  differently. 
I  need  hardly  say  that,  a  gentleman  so  very 
little  particular  in  the  choice  of  his  friends 
would  be  a  most  misplaced  subject  for  the 
honor  of  the  '  Legion. '  " 

lie  waved  his  hai  <l  in  sign  for  me  to 
withdraw,  and,  overwhelmed  wii  h  confusion, 
I  bowed  and  let'i,  (lie  room  ;  nor  was  it  till 
the  door  closed  behind  me  (hat  I  fell  how 
cruelly  and  unjustly  I  had  been  treated; 
then  suddenly  the  blood  rushed  to  my  face 
and  temples,  my  head  seemed  as  it  i(  would 
burst  at  eiiner  side,  and  forgetting  every 
circumstance  of  place  and  condition,  I 
seized  the  handle  of  the  door  and  wrenched 
it  open. 

"  Marshal,"  said  I,  with  the  fearlessness 
of  one  resolved  at  any  risk  to  vindicate  his 
character,  "I  know  nothing  of  this  letter 
— I  have  not  read  one  line  of  it.  I  have  no 
further  intimacy  with  the  writer  1  ban  an 
officer  has  with  his  comrade  ;  but  if  I  am 
to  be  the  subject  of  •  espionage  '  to  the  po- 
lice— if  my  chance  acquaintances  in  the 
world  are  to  be  matter,  of  charges  against 
my  fealty  and  honor — if  I  who  have  noth- 
ing but  my  sword  and  my  epaulette — " 

When  I  had  got  thus  far  i  saw  the  mar- 
shal's face  turn  deadly  pale,  while  the  offi- 
cer at  the  table  made  a  hurried  sign  to  me 
with  his  finger  to  be  silent.  The  door 
closed  nearly  at  the  same  instant,  and  I 
turned  my  head  round,  and  there  staod  the 
Emperor.  The  figure  is  still  before  me — 
he  was  standing  still,  his  hands  behind  his 
back,  and  his  low  chapeau  deeply  pressed 
upon  his  brows.  His  gray  frock  was  open, 
and  looked  as  if  disordered  from  haste. 

"  What  is  this  ?  "  said  he,  in  that  hissing 
tone  he  always  assumed  when  m  moments 
of  passion — '•  what  is  this  ?  Are  we  in  the 
bureau  of  a  minister,  or  is  this  the  salle  d* 
police?     Who  are  you,  sir  ?" 

It  was  not  until  the  question  had  been 
repeated  that  I  found  courage  to  reply.  But 
he  waited  not  for  my  answer,  as,  snatching 
the  open  letter  from  my  fingers,  he  re- 
sumed : 

"It  is  not  thus,  sir,  you  should  come 
here.  Your  petition  or  memorial — Ha  ? 
parbleu!  what  is  this  ?" 

At  the  instant  his  eyes  fell  upon  the 
writing,  and  as  suddenly  his  face  grew  al- 
most livid.  With  the  rapidity  of  light- 
ning beseemed  to  peruse  the  lines.  Then 
waving  his  hand,  he  motioned  toward  th& 
door,  and  muttered,  "  Wait  without." 

Like  one  awaking  from  a  dreadful  dream; 
I  stood,  endeavoring  to  recall  my  faculties, 
and  assure  myself  how  much  there  might 
be  of  reality  in  my  wandering  fancier,  wh^y 


546 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


I  perceived  that  a  portion  of  the  letter  re- 
mained between  my  ringers  as  the  Em- 
peror snatched  it  from  my  hand. 

A  half-finished  sentence  was  all  I  could 
make  out ;  but  its  tone  made  me  tremble 
for  what  the  rest  of  the  epistle  might  con- 
tain : 

"Surpassed  themselves,  of  course,  my 
dear  Burke;  and  so  has  the  Emperor  too. 
It  remained  for  the  campaign  in  Prussia  to 
prove  that  one  hundred  and  eighty -five 
thousand  prisoners  can  be  taken  from  an 
army  numbering  one  hundred  and  fifty-four 
thousand  men.  As  to  Davoust,  who  really 
had  all  the  fighting,  though  he  wrote  no 
bulletin,  all  Paris  feels — " 

Such  was  the  morsel  I  had  saved — such 
a  specimen  of  the  insolence  of  the  entire. 

The  dreadful  fact  then  broke  suddenly 
upon  me,  that  this  letter  had  been  written 
by  Duchesne  to  effect  my  ruin  ;  and,  as  I 
stood  stupefied  with  terror,  the  door  was 
suddenly  opened,  and  the  Emperor  passed 
out.  His  eyes  were  turned  on  me  as  he 
went,  and  I  shrank  back  from  their  expres- 
sion of  withering  anger. 

"  Captain  Burke  1 "  said  a  voice  from 
within  the  room,  for  the  door  continued 
open. 

I  entered  slowly,  but  with  a  firm  step. 
My  mind  was* made  up  ;  and,  in  the  force 
of  a  resolute  determination,  I  found 
strength  for  whatever  might  happen. 

"  It  would  appear,  sir,"  said  the  Marshal, 
addressing  me  with  a  stern  and  severe  ex- 
pression of  features — "  it  would  appear  that 
you  permit  yourself  the  widest  liberty  in 
canvassing  the  acts  of  his  Majesty  the  Em- 
peror ;  for  I  find  you  here  mentioned " — 
he  took  a  paper  from  the  table  as  he  spoke 
— "as  declaiming,  in  a  public  cafe,  on  the 
subject  of  the  Prince  de  Hatzfeld,  and  ex- 
pressing in  no  measured  terms  your  disap- 
proval of  his  imprisonment." 

"All  that  I  said  upon  the  subject,  sir,  so 
far  as  I  can  recollect,  was  in  praise  of  the 
Emperor  for  clemency  so  well  bestowed." 

"  There  was  no  high-flown  sentiment  on 
the  breach  of  honorable  confidence  effected 
in  opening  private  letters,"  said  the  Mar- 
shal, sarcastically. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  do  remember  expressing  my- 
self strongly  on  that  head." 

"1  am  not  surprised,  sir,"  interrupted 
he,  "at  your  indignation;  your  own  con- 
science must  have  prompted  you  on  the 
occasion.  •  When  a  gentleman  has  such 
correspondents^  the  Chevalier  Duchesne, 
he  may  well  feel  on  a  point  like  this.  But 
enough  of  this.  I  have  his  majesty's  or- 
ders regarding  you,  which  arc'as  follows — " 

"Forgive  me,  I  beg  you,  sir,  the  liberty 


of  interrupting  you  for  one  moment.  I 
am  an  alien,  and,  therefore,  little  versed  in 
the  habits  and  usages  of  the  land  for  whose 
service  I  have  shed  my  blood  :  but  I  am 
sure  a  Marshal  of  Prance  will  not  refuse  a 
kindness  to  an  officer  of  the  army,  how- 
ever humble  his  station.  I  merely  ask  the 
answer  to  one  question." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  the  Marshal,  quickly. 

'•  Am  I,  as  an  officer,  at  liberty  to  resign 
my  grade,  and  quit  the  service  ? 

"  Yes,  parbleu !  •'  said  he,  reddening — 
"yes,  that  you  are." 

"Then,  here  I  do  so,"  rejoined  I,  draw- 
ing my  sword  from  its  scabbard.  "The 
career  I  can  no  longer  follow  honorably 
and  independently,  I  shall  follow  no  more." 

"Your  corps,  sir  ?"  said  the  Marshal. 

"The  Eighth  Hussars  of  the  Guard." 

"Take  a  note  of  that,  Gardanne..  I  shall 
spare  you  all  unnecessary  delay  in  tender- 
ing a  written  resignation  of  your  rank.  I 
accept  it  now.  You  leave  Berlin  in  twenty- 
four  hours." 

I  bowed,  and  was  silent. 

"Your  passport  shall  be  made  out  for 
Paris  ;  you  shall  receive  it  to-morrow  mor- 
ning." He  motioned  with  his  hand  toward 
the  door  as  he  concluded,  and  I  left  the 
room. 

The  moment  I  felt  myself  alone,  the 
courage  which  had  sustained  me  through- 
out at  once  gave  way,  and  I  leaned  against 
the  wall,  and  covered  my  face  with  my 
hands.  Yes,  I  knew  it  in  my  heart,  the 
whole  dream  of  life  was  over.  The  path  of 
glory  was  closed  to  me  forever.  AH  the 
hopes  on  which,  in  sanguine  hours,  I  used 
to  feed  my  heart,  were  scattered  ;  and  to 
the  miseries  of  my  exiled  lot  were  now 
added  the  sorrows  of  an  unfriended,  com- 
panionless  existence.  The  thought  that 
no  career  was  open  to  me  came  last — for  at 
first  1  only  remembered  all  I  was  leaving, 
not  the  dark  future  before  me — yet,  when 
I  called  to  mind  the  injustice  with  which 
I  had  been  treated  —  the  system  of  "es- 
pionage" to  which,  as  an  alien  more  par- 
ticularly, I  was  exposed — I  felt  I  had  clone 
right,  and  that  to  have  remained  in  the 
service  at  such  a  sacrifice  of  my  personal 
independence  would  have  been  base  and 
unworthy. 

With  a  half-broken  heart  and  faltering 
step  I  regained  my  quarters,  where  again 
my  grief  burst  forth  with  more  violence 
than  at  first.  Every  object  about  recalled 
to  me  the  career  I  was  leaving  forever  ;  and, 
wherever  my  eye  rested,  some  emblem  lay 
to  open  fresh  stores  of  sorrow. 

The  pistols  I  carried  at  Elchingen,  a  gift 
from   General   d'Auvergnc ;    an    Austrian 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


547 


sabre  I  had  taken  from  its  owner,  still  or- 
namented with  a  little  knot  of  ribbon  Mi- 
nette  had  fastened  to  the  hilt,  hung  above 
the  chimney,  and  I  could  scarce  look  on 
them  without  tears.  On  the  table  still  lay 
open  the  'ordre  du  jour*'  which  named 
me  to  the  Legion  of  Honor  ;  and  now — 
the  humblest  soldier  that  carried  his  musket 
in  the  ranks  was  my  superior.  Not  all  the 
principle  on  which  I  founded  my  resolve 
was  proof  against  this  first  outburst  of  my 
sorrow. 

The  chivalrous  ardor  of  a  soldier's  life 
had  long  supplied  to  me  the  place  of  those 
appliances  to  happiness  which  other  men 
possess.  Each  day  I  followed  it  the  path 
grew  dearer  to  me.  Every  bold  and  daring 
feat,  every  deed  of  enterprise  or  danger, 
seemed  td  bring  me,  in  thought  at  least, 
nearer  to  him  whose  greatness  was  my  idol- 
atry ;  and  now,  all  this  was  to  be  as  a  mere 
dream — a  thing  which  had  been,  and  was 
to  be  no  more. 

While  I  revolved  such  sad  reflections,  a 
single  knock  came  to  my  door.  I  opened 
it,  and  saw  a  soldier  of  my  own  regiment. 
His  dress  was  travel-stained  and  splashed, 
and  he  looked  like  one  off  a  long  journey. 
He  knew  me  at  once,  and  accosted  me  by 
name,  as  he  presented  a  letter  from  General 
d'Auvergne. 

"You've  had  a  smart  ride,"  said  I,  as  I 
surveyed  his  flushed  face  and  disordered 
uniform. 

"Yes,  captain,  from  the  'Oder.'  Our 
division  is  full  twelve  leagues  from  this.  I 
left  on  yesterday  morning,  for  the  general 
was  particular  that  the  charger  should  not 
suffer  on  the  way  ;  as  if  a  beast  like  that 
would  mind  double  the  distance." 

By  this  time  I  had  opened  the  letter, 
which  merely  contained  the  following  few 
lines : 

"My  Dear  Burke,  —Every  new  arrival 
here  has  brought  me  some  fresh  intelligence 
of  you,  and  of  your  conduct  at  Jena ;  nor 
can  I  say  with  what  pride  I  have  heard  that 
the  Emperor  has  included  you  among  the 
list  of  the  'decores.'  This  is  the  day  I 
often  prophesied  for  you,  and  the  true  and 
only  refutation  against  the  calumnies  of  the 
false-hearted  and  the  envious.  I  send  you 
a  Polish  charger  for  your  gala  review.  Ac- 
cept him  from  me,  and  believe  that  you 
have  no  warmer  friend,  nor  more  affection- 
ate than  yours, 

"D'Auvergne,  Lieut. -Gen. 
"  Encampment  on  the  Oder,  Nov.  21,  1806. " 

Before  I  had  finished  reading  the  letter, 
my  eyes  grew  so  dimmed  I  could  scarcely 


trace  the  letters.  Each  word  of  kindness, 
every  token  of  praise,  now  cut  me  to  tJ  e 
heart.  How  agonizing  are  the  congratula- 
tions of  friends  on  tho  3  in  life  where 
our  own  conscience  bears  reproach  against 
us — how  poignant  the  self-accusation  that 
is  elicited  by  undeserved  eulogy  !  How 
would  he  think  of  my  conduct?  Ry  what 
means  should  I  convince  him  that  no  alterna- 
tive remained  to  me?  1  turned  away  lest 
the  honest  soldier  should  witness  my  trouble, 
and,  as  I  approached  the  window,  1  beheld, 
in  the  court-yard  beneath,  the  beautiful 
charger  which,  with  the  full  trappings 
of  a  hussar  saddle,  stood  proudly  flap- 
ping his  deep  flanks  with  his  long  silken 
tail.  With  what  a  thrill  I  surveyed  him  ! 
— how  my  heart  leaped,  as  1  fancied  myself 
borne  along  on  the  full  tide  ot  battle,  each 
plunge  he  gave  responsive  to  the  stroke  of 
my  sword-arm  !  For  an  instant  I  forgot 
all  that  had  happened,  and  gazed  on  his 
magnificent  crest  and  splendid  shape  with 
an  ecstasy  of  delight. 

"Ay,"  said  the  dragoon,  Avhose  eyes  were 

riveted  in  the  same  quarter,  "  there's  not  a 

Marshal  of  France  so  well  mounted  ;  and 

I  he  knows  the  trumpet-call  like  the  oldest 

[Soldier  of  the  troop." 

"  You  will    return    to-morrow,"  said  I, 

|  recovering  myself  suddenly,  and  endeavor- 

|  ing  to  appear  composed  and  at  ease.    "  Well, 

i  then,  to-night,  I  shall  give  you  an  answer 

for  the  general.     Be  here  at  eight  o'clock." 

I  saw  that  my  troubled  air  and  broken 
voice  had  not  escaped  the  soldier's  notice, 
and  was  glad  when  the  door  closed,  and  I 
was  again  alone. 

My  first  care  was  to  write  to  the  general  ; 
nor  was  it  till  after  many  efforts  I  suc- 
ceeded to  my  satisfaction  in  conveying,  in 
a  few  and  simple  words,  the  reasons  of  that 
step  which  must  embitter  my  future  life. 
I  explained  how  deeply  continued  mistrust 
had  wounded  me;  how  my  spirit,  as  a  soldier 
and  a  gentleman,  revolted  at  the  "espion- 
age" established  over  my  actions;  that  it 
was  in  weighing  these  insults  against  the 
wreck  of  all  my  hopes,  I  had  chosen  that 
path  which  had  neither  fame,  nor  rank, 
nor  honor,  but  still  left  me  an  untram- 
meled  spirit,  and  a  mind  at  peace  with  itself. 

"I  have  now,"  said  I,  "to  begin  the 
world  anew,  without  one  clue  to  guide  me. 
Every  illusion  with  which  I  had  invested 
life  has  left  me  ;  I  must  choose  both  a 
career  and  a  country,  and  bear  with  me 
from  this  nothing  but  the  heartfelt  grati- 
tude I  shall  ever  retain  for  one  who  be- 
friended me  through  weal  and  woe,  and 
whose  memory  I  shall  bless  while  Hive." 

I  felt  relieved  and  more  at  ease  when  I 


d48 


CHARLES  LE VSR'S    WORKS. 


finished  this  letter  ;  the  endeavor  to  set  my 
conduct  in  its  true  light  to  another  had 
also  its  effect  upon  my  own  convictions.  1 
knew,  besides,  that  l'  had  sacrificed  to  my 
determination  all  my  worldly  prospects,  and 
believed,  that  where  self-interest  warred 
with  principle,  the  right  course  could 
scarcely  be  doubtful. 

All  this  time,  not  one  thought  ever  oc- 
curred to  me  how  I  was  to  meet  the  future. 
It  was  strange,  hut  so  perfectly  had  the 
present  crisis  filled  my  mind,  there  was  not 
room  for  even  a  glance  at  what  was  .to  come. 

My  passport  was  made  out  for  Paris,  and 
thither  I  must  go.  So  much  was  decided 
for  me  without  intervention  on  my  part ; 
and  now  it  only  remained  for  me  to  dispose 
of  the  little  trappings  of  my  former  estate, 
and  take  the  road. 

The  Jews  who  always  accompanied  the 
army,  offered  a  speedy  resource  in  this 
emergency.  My  anxiety  to  leave  Berlin  by 
daybreak,'  and  thus  avoid  a  meeting  of  any 
acquaintances  there,  made  me  accept  of  the 
sums  they  offered.  To  them  such  negotia- 
tions were  of  daily  occurrence,  and  they 
well  knew  how  to  profit  by  them.  My  whole 
worldly  wealth  consisted  of  two  hundred 
Napoleons,  and  with  this  small  pittance  to 
begin  life,  I  sat  myself  down  to  think 
whither  I  should  turn,  or  what  course  adopt, 

The  night  passed  over  thus,  and  when 
day  dawned,  I  had  not  closed  my  eyes. 
About  four  o'clock,  the  diligence  in  which 
I'had  secured  a  place  for  Weimar  drew  up 
at  my  door.  I  hurried  down,  and  mount- 
ing to  a  seat  beside  the  conducteur,  I  buried 
my  face  in  the  folds  of  my  cloak,  nor  dared 
to  look  up  until  we  had  passed  beyond  the 
precincts  of  the  city,  and  were  traveling 
along  on  the  vast  plain  of  sand  which  sur- 
rounds Berlin. 

The  conducteur  was  a  Prussian,  and  di- 
vining my  military  capacity  in  my  appear- 
ance, he  maintained  a  cold  and  distant 
civility  ;  never  speaking,  except  when  spo- 
ken to,  and  even  then  in  as  few  words  as 
possible.  This  was  itself  a  relief  to  me  ; 
my  heart  was  too  full  of  its  own  sufferings 
to  find  pleasure  in  conversation,  and  I 
dreamed  away  the  hours  till  nightfall. 


CHAPTER    LXXI. 


A    FOREST    PATH. 


When  I  reached  Weimar,  I  quitted  the 
diligence,  resolved  to  make  the  remainder 
of  the  journey  on  foot,  for  thus  I  should 
both  economize  the  little  means  I  possessed, 


and  escape  many  of  the  questionings  and 
inquiries  to  which,  as  a  traveler  by  public 
conveyance,  1  was  exposed.  Knapsack  on 
shoulder  then,  and  stail'  in  hand,  1  plodded 
onward  ;  and  although  frequently  coining 
up  with  others  on  their  way  homeward,  1 
avoided  all  companionship  with  those 
whom  I  could  no  longer  think  of  as  com- 
rades. 

The  two  tides  of  population  which  met 
upon  that  great  highway  told  the  whole 
history  of  war.  Here  came  the  young  sol- 
diers, fresh  enrolled  in  the  conscription, 
glowing  with  ardor,  and  bounding  with 
life  and  buoyancy,  and  mingling  their  vil- 
lage songs  with  warlike  chants.  There, 
footsore  and  weary,  with  tattered  uniform 
and  weatherbeaten  look,  toiled  along  the 
tired  veteran,  turning,  as  he  went,  a  glance 
of  compassionate  contempt  on  those  whose 
wild  "vivas'"  burst  forth  in  greeting.  As 
for  me,  I  could  neither  partake  of  the  high 
hopes  of  the  one,  nor  sympathize  with  the 
war-worn  nature  of  the  other.  Disappoint- 
ment, bitter  disappointment  in  every  che- 
rished expectation,  had  thrown  a  chill  over 
me,  and  I  wanted  even  the  energy  to  be- 
come reckless.  In  this  state,  I  did  not  dare 
to  face  the  future,  but  in  moody  despond- 
ency reflected  on  the  past.  Was  this  the 
destmy  Marie  de  Meudon  predicted  for 
me  ?  was  the  ever-present  thought  of  my 
mind.  Is  it  thus  I  should  appear  before 
her  ? 

A  hundred  times  came  the  thought  to 
join  the  new  levies  as  a  soldier,  to  carry  a 
musket  in  the  ranks  ;  but  then  came  back 
in  all  its  force  the  memory  of  the  distrust 
and  suspicion  my  services  had  met  with  ; 
the  conviction  hourly  became  clearer  to  me, 
that  I  fought  not  for  liberty,  but  despotism 
— that  it  was  not  freedom,  but  slavery,  in 
whose  cause  I  shed  my  blood. 

To  avoid  meeting  with  the  detachments 
which  each  day  occupied  the  road,  I  turned 
from  the  chaussee  on  passing  Eisenach,  and 
took  a  forest  path  that  led  through  Mur- 
bach  to  Fulda.  My  path  led  through  the 
Creutz  Mountains,  a  wild  and  unfrequented 
tract  of  country,  where  few  cottages  were 
to  be  seen,  and  scarcely  a  village  existed. 
Vast  forests  of  dark  pines,  or  bleak  and 
barren  mountains,  stretched  away  on  either- 
side  ;  a  few  patches  of  miserable  tillage 
here  and  there  met  the  view  ;  but  the  scene 
was  one  of  saddening  influence,  and  har- 
monized but  too  nearly  with  my  own  de- 
spondency. 

To  reach  a  place  of  shelter  for  the  night, 
I  was  more  than  once  obliged  to  walk 
twelve  leagues  during  the  day,  and  had  thus 
to  set  out  before  daylight.     This  exertion, 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


549 


however,  brought  its  own  reward :  the 
stimulant  of  labor,  the  necessity  of  a  task, 
gradually  allayed  the  mental  irritation  1 
suffered  under  ;  a  healthier  and  more  man- 
ly tone  of  thinking  succeeded  to  my  former 
regrets,  and  with  a  heart  elevated,  if  not 
cheered,  I  continued  my  way. 

The  third  day  of  my  toilsome  journey 
was  drawing  to  a  close — a  mass  of  heavy 
and  lowering  clouds,  dark  and  thunder- 
charged,  slowly  moved  along  the  sky— and 
a  low,  moaning  sound,  that  seemed  to  sigh 
along  the  ground,  boded  the  approach  of  a 
storm.  I  was  still  three  leagues  from  my 
halting-place,  and  began  to  deliberate  with- 
in myself  whether  the  dense  pine  wood, 
which  came  down  to  the  side  of  the  road, 
might  not  afford  a  safer  refuge  from  the 
hurricane,  than  the  chances  of  reaching  a 
house  before  it  broke  forth. 

The  shepherds  who  frequented  these 
dreary  tracts  often  erected  little  huts  of 
bark  as  a  shelter  against  the  cold  and  sever- 
ity of  the  wintry  days,  and  to  find  out  one 
of  these  now  was  my  great  endeavor.  Scarce- 
ly had  I  formed  the  resolve,  when  I  per- 
ceived a  small  path  opening  into  the  wood, 
at  the  entrance  to  which  a  piece  of  board 
nailed  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  gave  tid- 
ings that  such  a  place  of  security  was  not 
far  distant.  These  signs  of  forest  life  I  had 
learned  in  my  wanderings,  and  now  strode 
forward  with  renewed  vigor. 

The  path  led  gradually  upward,  along 
the  mountain  side,  which  soon  became  so 
incumbered  with  brushwood  that  I  had 
much  difficulty  in  pushing  my  way  ;  and 
at  last  began  to  doubt  whether  I  might  not 
have  wandered  from  the  track.  The  dark- 
ness was  now  complete — night  had  fallen, 
and  a  heavy  crashing  rain  poured  down  up- 
on the  treetops,  but  could  not  penetrate 
through  their  tangled  shelter.  The  wind, 
too,  swept  in  loud  gusts  above,  and  the 
long-threatened  storm  began.  A  loud, 
deafening  roar,  like  that  of  the  sea  itself, 
arose,  as  the  leafy  branches  bent  before  the 
blast,  or  snapped  with  sudden  shock  beneath 
the  hurricane  ;  clap  after  clap  of  thunder 
resounded,  and  then  the  rain  descended  in 
torrents — the  heavy  drops,  at  last,  trickling 
from  leaf  to  leaf,  reaching  me  as  I  stood. 
Once  more  I  pushed  forward,  and  had  not 
gone  many  paces  when  the  red  glare  of  a  fire 
caught  my  eye.  Steadfastly  fastening  my 
gaze  upon  the  flame,  I  hurried  on,  and  at 
length  perceived  with  ecstasy  that  the  light 
issued  from  the  window  of  a  small  hovel, 
such  as  I  have  already  mentioned.  To  gain 
the  entrance  of  the  hut  I  was  obliged  to 
pass  the  window,  and  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  to  give  a    glance    at  the  inte- 


rior, whose  cheerful  blaze  betokened  habi- 
tation. 

It  was  not  without  surprise  that, instead  of 
the  figure  of  a  shepherd  reposing  beside  his 
fire,  1  beheld,  that  of  an  old  man,  whose 
dress  bespoke  the  priest,  kneeling  in  deep 
devotion  at  the  foot  of  a  small  crucifix  at- 
tached to  the  wall.  Not  all  the  wild  sounds 
of  the  raging  storm  seemed  to  turn  his  at- 
tention from  the  object  of  his  worship — his 
eyes  were  closed,  but  the  head  thrown  back- 
ward showed  his  face  upturned,  when  the 
lips  moved  rapidly  in  prayer.  Never  had 
I  beheld  so  perfect  a  picture  of  intense  de- 
votional feeling — every  line  in  his  marked 
countenance  indicated  the  tension  of  a  mind 
tilled  with  one  engrossing  thought,  while 
his  tremulous  hands,  clasped  before  him, 
[shook  with  the  tremor  of  strong  emotion. 

What  a  contrast  to  the  loud  warring  of 
the  elements  that  peaceful  figure,  raised 
above  earth  and  its  troubles,  in  the  spirit  of 
his  holy  communing — how  deeply  touching 
the  calm  serenity  of  his  holy  brow,  with  the 
rolling  crash  of  falling  branches,  and  the 
deep  baying  of  the  storm  !  I  did  not  dare 
to  interrupt  him,  and  when  I  did  approach 
the  door  it  was  with  silent  step  and  noise- 
less gesture.  As  I  stood,  the  old  priest — 
for  now  I  saw  that  he  was  such — concluded 
his  prayer,  and  detaching  his  crucifix  from 
the  wall,  he  kissed  it  reverently,  and  placed 
it  in  his  bosom  ;  then,  rising  slowly  from 
his  knees,  he  turned  toward  me.  A  slight 
start  of  surprise,  as  quickly  followed  by  a 
smile. of  kindly  greeting,  escaped  him,  while 
he  said  in  French, 

"  You  are  welcome,  my  son — come  in 
and  share  with  me  the  shelter,  for  it  is  a 
wild  night." 

"  A  wild  night,  indeed,  father,"  said  T, 
casting  my  eyes  around  the  little  hut,  where 
nothing  indicated  the  appearance  of  habita- 
tion. "I  could  have  wished  you  a  better 
home  than  this  against  the  storms  of 
winter." 

"  I  am  a  traveler  like  yourself,"  said  he, 
smiling  at  my  mistake  ;  "and  a  country- 
man, too,  if  I  mistake  not." 

The  accents  in  which  these  words  were 
spoken  pronounced  him  a  Frenchman,  and 
a  very  little  sufficed  to  ratify  the  terms  of 
our  companionship  ;  and  having  thrown  a 
fresh  billet  on  the  fire,  we  both  seated  our- 
selves before  it.  My  wallet  was,  fortunate- 
ly, better  stored  than  the  good  father's,  and 
having  produced  its  contents,  we  supped 
cheerfully,  and  like  men  who  were  not  eat- 
ing their  first  bivouac  meal. 

"  I  perceive,  father,"  said  I,  as  I  remarked 
the  manner  in  which  he  disposed  of  his 
viands — "  I  perceive  you  have  campaigned 


350 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


ere  now — the  habits  of  the  service  arc  not 
easily  mistaken." 

"  1  did  not  need  that  observation  of 
yours,"  replied  he,  laughing  slightly,  "to 
convince  me  you  were  a  soldier  ;  for,  as  you 
truly  say,  the  camp  leaves  its  indelible  traces 
behind  it.  You  arc  hastening  on  to  Berlin, 
I  suppose  ?  " 

I  blushed  deeply  at  the  question — the 
shame  of  my  changed  condition  had  been 
hitherto  confined  to  my  own  heart,  but  now 
it  was  to  be  confessed  before  a  stranger. 

"1  ask  your  pardon,  my  son,  for  a  ques- 
tion I  had  no  right  to  ask — and  even  there, 
again,  I  but  showed  my  soldier  education. 
I  am  returning  to  France,  and  in  seeking  a 
short  path  from  Eisenach,  found  myself 
where  you  see,  as  night  was  falling,  well 
content  to  be  so  well  lodged — all  the  more, 
if  I  am  to  have  your  companionship." 

Few  and  simple  as  lhese  words  were,  there 
was  a  tone-  of  frankness  in  them,  not  less 
than  the  evidence  of  a  certain  good  breed- 
ing, by  which  he  apologized  for  his  own 
curiosity  in  speeking  thus  freely  of  himself, 
that  satisfied  me  at  once  ;  and  I  hastened 
to  inform  him  that  circumstances  had  in- 
duced me  to  leave  the  service,  in  which  I 
had  been  a  captain,  and  that  I  was  now, 
like  himself,  returning  to  France. 

"  You  must  not  think,  father,"  added  I, 
with  some  eagerness—'''  You  must  not  think 
tli at  other  reasons  than  my  own  free  will 
have  made  me  cease  to  be  a  soldier." 

"It  would  ill  become  me  to  have  borne 
such  a  suspicion,"  interrupted  he,  quickly. 
"  When  one  so  young  and  full  of  life  iis 
you  are  leaves  the  path  where  lie  honor, 
and  rank,  and  fame,  he  must  have  cause  to 
make  the  sacrifice — for  I  can  scarce  think 
that,  at  your  age,  these  things  seem  nought 
to  your  eyes." 

"You  are  right,  father,  they  are  not  so  ; 
they  have  been  my  guiding  stars  for  many 
a  day — alas  !  that  they  can  be  such  no 
longer ! " 

'"  There  are  higher  hopes  to  cherish  than 
these,"  said  he,  solemnly;  "higher  than 
the  loftiest  longings  of  ambition,  but  we  all 
of  us  cling  to  the  things  of  life,  till  in  their 
perishable  nature  they  wean  us  off  with 
disappointment  and  sorrow.  From  such  a 
trial  am  I  now  suffering."  added  he,  in  a 
low  voice,  while  the  tears  rose  to  his  eyes 
and  slowly  coursed  along  his  pale  cheeks. 

There  was  a  pause  neither  of  us  felt  in- 
clined to  break,  when  at  length  the  priest 
Fa  id, 

"  What  was  your  corps  in  the  service  ?  " 

'-'The  Eighth  Hussars  of  the  Guard," 
said  7,  trembling  at  every  word. 

u  Ah,  he  was  in  the  i  Guides,'  "'  repeat- 


ed lie,  mournfully,  to  himself;  "you  knew 
the  regiment  ? " 

"Yes,  they  belonged  to  the  Guard  also; 
they -wore  no  epaulettes,  but  a  small  gold 
arrow  on  the  collar." 

"  Like  this,"  said  he,  unfastening  the 
breast  of  his  cassock,  and  taking  out  a  small 
package,  which,  among  other  things,  con- 
tained the  designation  of  the  Corps  ties 
Guides  in  an  arrow  of  gold  embroidery. 
"  Had  he  not  beautiful  hair,  long  and  silky 
as  a  girl's  ?  "  said  he,  as  he  produced  a  lock 
of  light  and  sunny  brown.  "  Poor  Al- 
phonse !  thou  wouldst  have  been  twenty 
hadst  thou  lived  till  yesterday.  If  I  shed 
tears,  young  man,  it  is  because  I  have  lost 
the  great  earthly  solace  of  my  solitary  life  ; 
others  have  kindred  and  friends,  bave  hap- 
py homes,  which,  even  when  bereavements 
come,  with  time  will  heal  up  the  wound — 
I  had  but  him  !  " 

"  He  was  your  nephew,  perhaps  ?  "  said 
I,  half  fearing  to  interfere  with  his  sor- 
row. 

The  old  man  shook  his  head  in  token  of 
dissent,  while  he  muttered  to  himself, 

"Auerstiidt  may  be  a  proud  memory  to 
some,  to  me  it  is  a  word  of  sorrow  and 
mourning.  The  story  is  but  a  short  one — 
alas  !  it  has  but  one  color  throughout : 

"  Count  Louis  de  Meringues — of  whom 
you  have  doubtless  heard  that  he  rode  as 
postilion  to  the  carriage  of  his  sovereign  in 
the  celebrated  flight  to  Varennes — fell  by 
the  guillotine  the  week  after  the  king's 
trial  ;  the  countess  was  executed  on  the 
same  scaffold  as  her  husband.  I  was  the 
priest  who  accompanied  her  at  the  moment, 
and  in  my  arms  she  placed  her  only  child, 
an  infant  boy  of  two  years.  There  was  a 
cry  among  the  crowd  to  have  the  child  ex- 
ecuted also,  and  many  called  out  that  the 
spawn  would  be  a  serpent  one  day,  and  it 
were  better  to  crush  it  while  it  was  time  ; 
but  the  little  fellow  was  so  handsome,  and 
looked  so  winningly  around  him  on  the 
armed  ranks  and  the  glancing  weapons, 
that  even  their  cruel  hearts  relented,  and 
he  was  spared.  It  is  to  me  like  yesterday, 
as  I  remember  every  minute  circumstance  ;, 
I  can  recall  even  the  very  faces  of  that 
troubled  and  excited  assemblage,  that  at 
one  moment  screamed  aloud  for  blood,  and 
at  the  next  were  convulsed  with  savage 
laughter.  As  I  forced  my  way  through 
the  dense  array,  a  rude  arm  was  stretched 
out  from  the  mass,  and  a  finger  dripping 
with  the  gore  of  the  scaffold  was  drawn 
across  the  boy's  face,  while  a  ruffian  voice 
exclaimed— *  The  Meringues  were  ever 
proud  of  their  blood,  let  us  see  if  it  be  red- 
der than  other  people's.'     The  child  laugh- 


TOM  hURKE  OF  "OURS. 


551 


ed,    and   the  mob,    with  horrid  mockery, 
laughed  too. 

"  I  took  him  home  with  me  to  my  pres- 
bytere  at  Sevres — for  that  was  my  parish — 
and  we  lived  together  in  peace  until  the  ter- 
rible decree  was  issued  which  proclaimed  all 
France  atheist ;  then  we  wandered  south- 
ward, toward  that  good  land  which,  through 
every  vicissitude,  was  true  to  its  faith  and 
its  king,  La  Vendee.  At  Lyons  we  were 
met  by  a  party  of  the  revolutionary  soldiers, 
who,  with  a  'commissaire  '  of  the  govern- 
ment, were  engaged  in  raising  young  men 
for  the  conscription.  Alphonse,  who  was 
twelve  years  old,  felt  all  a  hoy's  enthusiasm 
at  the  warlike  display  before  him,  and  per- 
suaded me  to  follow  the  crowd  into  the 
'Place  des  Terreaux,'  where  the  numbers 
were  read  out. 

"  'Paul  Ducos,'  cried  a  voice  aloud,  as 
we  approached  the  stage  on  which  the 
commissary  and  his  staff  were  standing — 
'  where  is  this  Paul  Ducos  ? ' 

"  'I  am  here,'  replied  a  fine,  frank-look- 
ing youth,  of  some  fifteen  years  ;  '  but  my 
father  is  blind,  and  I  cannot  leave  him.' 

"  '  We  shall  soon  see  that,'  called  out 
the  commissary.  '  Clerk,  read  out  his  sig- 
nalement. ' 

"'Paul  Ducos,  son  of  Eugene  Ducos, 
formerlv  calling  himself  Count  Ducos  de 
la  Breche— ' 

"  *  Down  with  the  royalists — a  has  the 
tyrants  ! '  screamed  the  mob,  not  suffering 
the  remainder  to  be  heard. 

"'Approach,  Paul  Ducos,'  said  the 
Commissary. 

" '  Wait  here,  father,'  whispered  the 
youth  ;  'I  will  come  back  presently.'  But 
the  old  man,  a  fine  and  venerable  figure, 
the  remnant  of  a  noble  race,  held  him  fast, 
and,  as  his  lips  trembled,  said,  'Do  not 
leave  me,  Paul — my  child,  my  comforter, 
stay  near  me.' 

"  The  boy  looked  round  him  for  one  face 
of  kindly  pity  in  this  emergency,,  when, 
turning  toward  me,  he  said,  rapidly,  '  Stand 
near  him.'  He  broke  from  the  old  man's 
embrace,  and,  rushing  through  the  crowd, 
mounted  the  scaffold. 

" '  You  are  drawn  for  the  conscription, 
young  man,'  said  the  Commissary  ;  '  but, 
in  consideration  of  your  father's  infirmity, 
a  substitute  will  be  accepted — have  you 
such  ? ' 

"The  boy  shook  his  head  mournfully 
and  in  silence. 

" '  Have  you  any  friend  who  would  as- 
sist you  here  ?  Bethink  you  awhile,'  re- 
joined the  Commissary,  who,  for  his  station 
and  duties,  was  a  kind  and  benevolent 
man. 


"  '  1  have  none  :  they  have  left  US  no- 
thing, neither  home  nor  friends,'  said  the 
youth  bitterly;  'and,  if  it  were  not  for  his 
sake,  I  care  not  whai  they  do  with  me.' 

"'Down  with  the  tyrants!"  yelled  the 
mob,  as  they  heard  these  haughty  words. 

"'Then  your  fate  is  decreed,'  resumed 
the  Commissary. 

"  '  No,  not  yet  !'  cried  out  Alphonse,  as, 
breaking  from  my  side,  he  gained  the  steps 
and  mounted  the  platform — 'I  will  be  his 
substitute  ! ' 

"Oh  !  how  shall  1  tell  the  bitter  anguish 
of  that  moment,  which  at  once  dispelled 
the  last  remaining  hope  I  cherished,  and 
left  me  destitute  forever.  As  I  dashed  the 
tears  from  my  eyes  and  looked  up,  the  two 
boys  were  locked  in  each  other's  arms.  It 
was  a  sight  to  have  melted  any  heart,  save 
those  around  them ;  but  bloodshed  and 
crime  had  choked  up  every  avenue  of  feel- 
ing, and  left  them,  not  men,  but  tigers. 

"'Alphonse  de  Meringues,'' cried  out 
the  boy,  in  answer  to  a  question  regarding 
his  name. 

" '  There  is  no  such  designation  in 
France,'  said  a  grim-looking,  hard-featured 
man,  who,  wearing  the  tricolored  scarf,  sat 
at  the  table  beside  the  clerk. 

"  '  I  was  never  called  by  any  other,'  re- 
joined the  youth,  proudly. 

"'Citizen  Meringues,'  interposed  the 
Commissary,  mildly,  '  what  is  your  age  ? ' 

'"I  know  not  the  years,'  replied  he; 
'  but  I  have  heard  that  T  was  but  an  infant 
when  they  slew  my  father.' 

"A  fierce  roar  of  passion  broke  from 
the  mob  below  the  scaffold  as  they  heard 
this,  and  again  the  cry  broke  forth — '  Down 
•with  the  tyrants  ! ' 

"  '  Art  thou,  then,  the  son  of  that  base 
sycophant  avIio  rode  courier  to  the  Capet  to 
Varennes  ?  '  said  the  hard-featured  man  at 
the  table. 

"'Of  the  truest  gentleman  of  France.' 
called  out  a  loud  voice  from  below  the  plat- 
form. '  Vive  U  roi ! '  It  was  the  blind 
man  who  spoke,  and  waved  his  cap  above 
his  head. 

"  '  To  the  guillotine — to  the  guillotine  ! ' 
screamed  a  hundred  voices,  in  tones  wilder 
than  the  cries  of  famished  wolves,  as,  seiz- 
ing the  aged  man,  they  tore  his  clothes  to 
very  rags.  In  an  instant  all  attention  was 
turned  from  the  platform  to  the  scene  be- 
low it,  where,  with  shouts  and  screams  of 
fury,  the  terrible  mob  yelled  aloud  for 
blood.  In  vain  the  guards  endeavored  to 
keep  back  the  people,  who  twice  rescued 
their  victim  from  the  hands  of  the  soldiery, 
and  already  a  confused  murmur  rose  that 
the  commissary  himself  was  a  traitor  to  the 


552 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


public,  and  favored  the  tyrants,  when  a 
dull,  clanking  sound  rose  above  the  tumult, 
and  a  cheer  of  triumph  proclaimed  the  ap- 
proach of  the  instrument  of  torture. 

"In  their  impetuous  torreut  of  ven- 
geance they  had  dragged  the  guillotine 
from  the  distant  end  of  the  '  Place,'  where 
it  usually  stood,  and  there  now  still  knelt 
the  figure  of  a  condemned  man,  lashed 
with  his  arms  behind  hyn,  on  the  platform, 
awaiting  the  moment  of  his  doom.  Oh  ! 
that  terrible  face,  on  which  death  had 
already  set  its  seal.  With  glazed,  lackluster 
eye,  and  cheek  leaden  and  quivering,  he 
gazed  around  on  the  fiendish  countenances 
like  one  awakening  from  a  dream,  his  lips 
parted  as  though  to  speak,  but  no  sound 
came  forth. 

"  '  Place — place  for  Monsieur  le  Mar- 
quis ! '  shouted  a  ruffian,  as  he  assisted  to 
raise  the  figure  of  the  blind  man  up  the 
steps  ;  and  a  ribald  yell  of  fiendish  laugh- 
ter followed  the  brutal  jest. 

"'Thou  art  to  make  thy  journey  in 
most  noble  company,'  said  another  to  the 
culprit  on  the  platform. 

"'An  he  see  not  his  way  in  the  next 
world  better  than  in  this,  thou  must  lend 
him  a  hand,  friend,'  said  a  third.  And 
with  many  a  ruffian  joke  they  taunted 
their  victims,  who  stood  on  the  last 
threshold  of  life. 

"Among  the  crowd  upon  the  scaffold  of 
the  guillotine  I  could  see  the  figure  of  the 
blind  man  as  it  leaned  and  fell  on  either 
side,  as  the  movement  of  the  mob  bore  it. 

"  '  Parbleu!  these  royalists  would  rather 
kneel  than  stand,'  said  a  voice,  as  they  in 
vain  essayed  to  make  the  old  man  place  his 
feet  under  him  ;  and  ere  the  laughter 
which  this  rude  jest  excited  ceased,  a  cry 
broke  forth  of — '  He  is  dead — he  is  dead  !' 
And,  with  a  heavy  sumph,  the  body  fell 
from  their  hands,  for,  when  their  power  of 
cruelty  ended,  they  cared  not  for  the  corpse. 

"It  was  true:  life  was  extinct,  none 
knew  how — whether  from  the  violence  of 
the  mob  in  its  first  outbreak,  or  that  a  long- 
suffering  heart  had  burst  at  last — but  the 
chord  was  snapped  :  and  he  whose  proud 
soul  lately  defied  the  countless  thousands 
around,  now  slept  with  the  dead. 

"  In  a  few  seconds  it  seemed  as  though 
they  felt  that  a  power  stronger  than  their 
own  had  interposed  between  them  and  their 
vengeance,  and  they  stood  almost  aghast 
before  the  corpse,  where  no  trace  of  blood 
proclaimed  it  to  be  their  own  ;  then,  rally- 
ing from  this  stupor,  with  one  voice  they 
demanded  that  the  son  should  atone  for 
the  crimes  of  the  father. 

"'I   am   ready,'   cried    the  youth,  in  a 


voice  above  the  tumult.  *  I  did  not  deem 
I  could  be  grateful  to  ye  for  aught,  but  I 
am  for  this.' 

"To  no  purpose  did  the  Commissary 
propose  a  delay  in  the  sentence  ;  he  was  un- 
supported by  his  colleagues — the  passions 
of  the  mob  rose  higher  and  higher — the 
thirst  for  blood  unslaked,  became  intense 
and  maddening,  and  they  danced  in  frantic 
glee  around  the  guillotine,  while  they 
chanted  one  of  the  demoniac  songs  of  the 
scaffold. 

"In  this  moment,  when  the  torrent  ran 
in  one  direction,  Alphonse  might  have  es- 
caped all  notice,  but  that  the  condemned 
youth  turned  to  embrace  him  once  more 
before  he  descended  from  the  platform. 

"  '  They  are  so  sorry  to  separate,  it  is  a 
shame  to  part  them,'  cried  a  ruffian  in  the 
crowd. 

"' You  forget,  citizen,  that  this  boy  is 
his  substitute,'  said  the  Commissary,  mild- 
ly ;  '  the  Republic  must  not  be  cheated  of 
its  defenders.' 

"'  Vive  la  Rrpublique  I '  cried  the  sol- 
diers, and  the  cry  was  re-echoed  by  thou- 
sands, while  amid  their  cheers  there  rose 
the  last  faint  sigh  of  an  expiring  victim. 

"  The  scene  was  over,  the  crowd  dispersed, 
and  the  soldiers  marched  back  to  quarters, 
accompanied  by  some  hundred  conscripts, 
among  whom  was  Alphonse,  a  vague, 
troubled  expression  betokening  that  he 
scarce  knew  what  had  happened  around  him. 

' '  The  regiment  to  which  he  was  appointed 
was  at  Toulon,  and  there  I  followed  him. 
They  were  ordered  to  the  north  of  Italy 
soon  after,  and  thence  to  Egypt.  Through 
the  battle-fields  of  Mount  Tabor  and  the 
Pyramids  I  was  ever  beside  him  ;  on  the 
heights  of  Austerlitz  I  stanched  his  wounds, 
and  I  laid  him  beneath  the  earth  on  the 
field  of  Auerstfidt." 

The  old  man's  voice  trembled  and  became 
feeble  as  he  finished  speaking,  and  a  settled 
expression  of  grief  clothed  his  features, 
which  were  pale  as  death. 

"I  must  see  Sevres  once  more,"  said  he, 
after  a  pause ;  "I  must  look  on  the  old 
houses  of  the  village,  and  the  little  gardens, 
and  the  venerable  church  ;  they  will  be  the 
only  things  to  greet  me  there  now,  but  I 
must  gaze  on  them  ere  I  close  my  eyes  to 
this  world  and  its  cares." 

"Come,  come,  father,"  said  I,  "to  one 
who  has  acted  so  noble  a  part  as  yours,  life 
is  never  without  its  own  means  of  happi- 
ness." 

"I  spoke  not  of  death,"  replied  he, 
mildly;  "but  the  holy  calm  of  a  convent 
will  better  suit  my  seared  and  worn  heart 
than  all  that  the  world  calls  its  joys  and 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


553 


pleasures.  Yon,  who  arc  young  and  full  of 
hope—" 

"Alas!  father,  speak  not  thus;  one  can 
better  endure  the  lowering  skies  of  misfor- 
tune as  the  evening  of  life  draws  near,  than 
when  the  morn  of  existence  is  breaking. 
To  me,  with  youth  and  health,  there  is  no 
future — no  hope." 

"I  will  not  hear  you  speak  thus,"  said 
the  priest;  "fatigue  and  weariness  are  on 
you  now.  '  Wait  until  to-morrow — we  shall 
be  fellow-travelers  together — and  then,  if 
you  will  reveal  to  me  your  story,  mayhap  my 
long  experience  of  the  world  may  suggest 
comfort  and  consolation  where  you  can  see 
neither." 

The  storm  by  this  time  had  abated  much 
of  its  violence,  and  across  the  moon  the 
large  clouds  were  wafted  speedily,  disclosing 
bright  patches  of  light  at  every  moment. 

"  Such  is  our  life  here,"  said  the  father, 
"  alternating  with  its  days  of  happiness  and 
sorrow.  Let  us  learn,  then,  in  the  dark 
hour  of  our  destiny,  to  bear  the  glare  of  our 
better  fortunes,  for,  believe  me,  that  when 
our  joys  are  greatest,  so  are  our  trials  also." 

He  ceased  speaking,  and  I  saw  that  soon 
afterward  his  lips  moved  as  if  in  prayer. 
I  now  laid  myself  down  in  my  cloak  be- 
side the  fire,  and  was  soon  buried  in  a  sleep 
joo  sound  even  for  a  dream. 


CHAPTER  LXXII. 


A   CHANCE   MEETING. 


With  the  good  priest  of  Sevres  I  jour- 
neyed along  toward  the  frontier  of  France, 
ever  selecting  the  least  frequented  paths, 
and  such  as  were  not  likely  to  be  taken  by 
the  troops  of  soldiery  which  daily  moved, 
toward  Berlin.  The  frankness  of  my  com- 
panion had  made  me  soon  at  ease  with  him, 
and  I  told  him,  without  reserve,  the  story  of 
my  life,  down  to  the  decisive  moment  of 
my  leaving  the  army. 

"You  see,  father,"  said  I,  "how  com- 
pletely my  career  has  failed — how,  with  all 
the  ardor  of  a  soldier,  with  all  the  devotion 
of  a  follower,  I  have  adhered  to  the  Em- 
peror's fortunes,  and  yet — " 

"Your  ambition,  however  great  it  was, 
could  not  stifle  conscience.  I  can  believe 
it  well.  They  who  go  forth  to  the  wars, 
with  high  hopes  and  bounding  hearts — who 
picture  to  their  minds  the  glorious  rewards 
of  great  achievements  — should  blind  their 
eyes  to  the  horrors  and  injustice  of  the 
cause  they  bleed  for.  Any  sympathy  with 
misfortune  would  sap  the  very  principle  of 


that  heroism  whose  essence  is  success.  Men 
cannot  play  the  double  game,  even  in  mat- 
ters of  worldly  ambition.  Had  you  not 
listened  to  the  promptings  of  your  heart, 
you  had  been  greater  ;  had  you  not  fol- 
lowed the  dazzling  glare  of  your  hopes,  you 
had  been  happier — both  you  could  scarcely 
be.  Be  assured  of  tins,  my  son,  the  tri- 
umphs of  a  country  can  only  he  enjoyed  by 
the  child  of  the  soil  ;  the  brave  soldier, 
who  lends  his  arm  to  the  cause,  feels  lie  has 
little  part  in  the  glory.'' 

"True,  indeed — most  true — I  feel  it." 

"  And  were  it  otherwise,  how  unsatisfying 
is  the  thirst  for  that  same  glory,  how 
endless  the  path  that  leads  to  it,  how  many 
regrets  accompany  it,  how  many  ties  broken, 
how  many  friendships  forfeited  !  No,  no  ; 
return  to  your  own  land — to  the  country  of 
your  birth  ;  some  honorable  career  will  al- 
ways present  itself  to  him  who  seeks  but 
independence,  and  the  integrity  of  his  own 
heart.  Beneath  the  conquering  eagles  of 
the  Emperor  there  are  men  of  every  shade 
of  political  opinion — for  the  conscription  is 
pitiless.  There  are  Royalists,  who  love 
their  king,  and  hale  the  usurper;  there  are 
Jacobms,  who  worship  freedom,  and  detest 
the  tyrant ;  there  are  stern  Republicans — 
Vendeans,  and  followers  of  Moreau — but 
yet  all  are  Frenchmen.  '  La. belle  France' 
is  the  watchword  that  speaks  to  every  heart — 
and  patriotism  is  the  bond  between  thous- 
ands. You  have  no  share  m  this.  The 
delusion  of  national  glory  can  never  throw 
its  deception  around  you.  Return,  then, 
to  your  country,  and  be  assured  that,  in 
her  cause,  your  least  efforts  will  be  more 
ennobling  to  yourself  than  the  boldest  deeds 
the  hand  of  a  mercenary  ever  achieved." 

The  inborn  desire  to  revisit  my  native 
land  needed  but  the  counsels  of  the  priest 
to  make  it  all  powerful  ;  and  as,  day  by 
day,  I  plodded  onward,  my  whole  thoughts 
turned  to  the  chances  of  my  escape,  and  the 
means  by  which  I  could  accomplish  my 
freedom — for  the  war  still  continued  be- 
tween France  and  England,  and  the  block- 
ade of  the  French  ports  was  strictly  main- 
tained by  a  powerful  fleet.  The  difficulty 
of  the  step  only  increased  my  desire  to  ef- 
fect it;  and  a  hundred  projects  did  I  re- 
volve in  my  mind,  without  ever  being  able 
to  fix  on  one  where  success  seemed  likely. 
The  very  resolve,  however,  had  cheered  my 
spirits,  and  given  new  courage  to  my  heart — 
and  an  object  suggested  a  hope — and,  with 
a  hope,  life  was  no  longer  burdensome. 

Each  morning  now  I  set  forward  with  a 
mind  more  at  ease,  and  more  open  to 
receive  pleasure  from  the  varied  objects 
which  met  me  as  I  went.     Not  so  my  poor 


654: 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


companion;  the  fatigue  of  the  journey, 
added  to  great  mental  suffering,  begaD  to 
prey  upon  Ins  health,  and  broughl  hack  an 
ague  he  had  contracted  in  Egypt,  from  the 
effect  of  which  his  constitution  had  never 
perfectly  recovered. 

At  first  the  malady  showed  itself  only  in 
great  depression  of  spirits,  which  made  him 
silent  for  hours  of  the  way — but  soon  it 
grew  worse  ;  he  walked  with  much  diffi- 
culty— took  but  little  nourishment — and 
seemed  impressed  with  a  sad  foreboding 
that  the  disease  must  be  fatal. 

"I  wanted  to  reach  my  Village- -my  own 
quiet  churchyard  should  have  been  my  rest- 
ing-place," said  he,  as  he  sank  wearied  and 
exhausted  on  a  little  hank  at  the  roadside. 
"  But  this  was  only  a  sick  man's  fancy. 
Poor  Alphonse  lies  far  away  in  the  dreary 
plain  of  Auerstadt." 

The  sun  was  just  setting  of  a  clear  day  in 
December  as  we  halted  on  a  little  eminence, 
which  commanded  a  distant  view  on  every 
side.  Behind,  lay  the  dark  forests  of  Ger- 
many, the  tree-tops  presenting  their  mas- 
sive wavy  surface,  over  which  the  passing 
clouds  threw  momentary  shadows  ;  before, 
but  still  some  miles  away,  we  could  trace 
the  Rhine,  its  bright  silver  current  spark- 
ling in  the  sun ;  beyond,  lay  the  great 
plains  of  France,  and  upon  these  the  sick 
man's  eyes  rested  with  a  steadfast  gaze. 

"Yes,"  said  he,  after  a  long  silence  on 
both  sides,  "the  fields  and  the  mountains, 
the  sunshine  and  the  shade,  are  like  those 
of  other  lands  ;  but  the  feeling  which  at- 
taches the  heart  to  country  is  an  inborn 
sense — and  the  very  word  '  home  '  brings 
with  it  the  whole  history  of  our  affections. 
Even  to  look  thus  at  his  native  country  is 
a  blessing  to  an  exile's  heart." 

I  scarcely  dared  to  interrupt  the  reverie 
which  succeeded  these  few  words  ;  but  when 
I  perceived  that  he  still  remained  seated, 
his  head  between  his  hands,  and  lost  in 
meditation,  I  ventured  to  remind  him  that 
we  were  still  above  a  league  from  Heim- 
bach,  the  little  village  where  we  should 
pass  the  night,  and  that  on  a  road  so  wild 
and  unfrequented  there  was  little  hope  of 
finding  shelter  any  nearer. 

"You  must  lean  on  me,  father — the  night 
air  is  fresh  and  bracing,  and  after  a  little  it 
will  revive  you." 

The  old  man  rose  without  speaking,  and, 
taking  my  arm,  began  the  descent  of  the 
mountain.  His  steps,  however,  were  tot- 
tering and  uncertain,  his  breathing  hurried 
and  difficult,  and  his  carriage  indicated  the 
very  greatest  debility. 

"I  cannot  do  it,  my  son,"  said  he.  sink- 
ing upon  the  grassy  bench  which  skirted 


the  way  ;  "you  must  leave  me.  It  matters 
little  now  where  this  frail  body  rests}  a 
few  hours  more,  and  the  rank  grass  will 
wave  above  it  and  the  ruin  beat  over  it  un- 
|  felt.  Let  us  part  here  ;  an  old  man's  bless- 
ing for  all  your  kindness  will  follow  you 
through  life,  and  may  cheer  you  to  think 
on  hereafter.*' 

"Do  you  then  suppose  I  could  leave  you 
thus  ?  "  said  I,  reproachfully  ;  "  is  it  so  you 
1 1 1 ink  of  me  ?" 

"  My  minutes  are  few  now,  my  child," 
replied  he,  more  solemnly,  "  and  I  would 
pass  the  last  moments  of  my  life  alone. 
Well,  then,  if  you  will  not — leave  me  now 
for  a  little,  and  return  to  me  ;  by  that  time 
my  mind  will  be  calmer,  and  mayhap,  too, 
my  strength  greater,  and  I  may  be  able  to 
i  accompany  you  to  the  village.'' 

I  acceded  to  this  proposal  the  more  will- 
ingly, because  it  afforded  me  the  hope  of 
[  finding  some  means  to  convey  him  to  Heim- 
bach  ;  and  so,  having  wrapped  him  care- 
fully in  my  cloak,  I  hastened  down  the 
mountain  at  the  top  of  my  speed. 

The  zig-zag  path  by  which  I  went  dis- 
|  covered  to  me  from  time  to  time  the  lights 
of  the  little  hamlet,  which  twinkled  star- 
like in  the  valley  ;  and  as  I  drew  nearer  the 
confused  hum  of  voices  reached  me.  I 
listened,  and  to  my  amazement  heard  the 
deep,  hoarse  bay  of  a  trumpet.  How  well 
I  knew  that  sound — it  was  the  night-call  to 
gather  in  the  stragglers.  I  stopped  to  listen, 
and  now,  in  the  stillness,  could  mark  the 
tramp  of  horsemen  and  the  clank  of  their 
equipments  ;  again  the  trumpet  sounded, 
and  was  answered  by  another  at  some  dis- 
tance. The  road  lay  straight  below  me  at 
some  hundred  yards  off,  and,  leaving  the 
path,  I  dashed  directly  downward  just  as 
the  leading  horsemen  of  a  small  detachment 
came  slowly  up.  To  their  loud  "  Qui 
viv'e?"  I  answered  by  giving  an  account  of 
the  sick  man,  and  entreating  the  sergeant 
who  commanded  the  party  to  lend  assist- 
ance to  convey  him  to  the  village. 

"  Yes,  parUeu,  that  we  will,"  said  the 
honest  soldier;  "a  priest  who  has  made 
the  campaign  of  Egypt  and  Austria  is 
worthy  of  all  our  care.     Where  is  he  ?" 

"About  a  mile  f'.om  this,  but  the  road 
is  not  practicable  for  a  horseman." 

"Well,  you  shall  have  two  of  my  men  ; 
they  will  soon  bring  him  hither ;"  and,  as 
he  spoke,  he  ordered  two  troopers  to  dis- 
mount, who  quickly  disincumbered  them- 
selves of  their  sabres,  prepared  to  follow  me. 

"  We  shall  expect  you  at  the  bivouac," 
cried  the  sergeant,  as  he  resumed  his  way  ; 
while  I,  eager  to  return,  breasted  the 
mountain  with  renewed  energy. 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


555 


"  Yon  belong  to  the  Guard,  my  friends,"  !  "  Tonnerre  de  del!  "  cried  the  two  sol- 
said  I,  as  I  paused  for  breath  at  a  turn  of  diers  in  a  breath,  "it  is  himself ;"  for  the 
the  path.  words  were  spoken  by  the  priest,  who  was 

"  The  Fourth  Cuirassiers  of  the  Guard,"  !  no  other  than  the  Pere  Arsene  they  spoke 
replied  the  soldier  I  addressed  ;  "  Milhaud's  [  of.  The  effort  of  speech  and  memory  was, 
brigade."  however,  a  mere  passing  one  ;  for  to  all  their 

How  my  heart  leaped  as  he  said  these  questions  ho  was  now  deaf,  and  lay  appa- 
words.  '  They  were  part  of  the  division  j  rently  unconscious  between  them.  On  me, 
General  d'Auvergne  once  commanded — it  i  therefore,  they  turned  their  inquiries,  but 
was  the  regiment  of  poor  Pioche,  too,  be- '  with  little  more  of  success;  and  thug 
fore  the  dreadful  day  of  Austerlitz.  we    descended    the     mountain,    eager    to 

"  Yon  know  the  Fourth,  then  ?"  rejoined,  reach  some  place  of  succor  for  the  gool 
the  man,  as  he  witnessed  the  agitation  of  !  father, 
my  manner.  ,  As  we  approached  the  village,  I  was  soon 

"Know  the  Fourth  ?  "  echoed  his  com-  j  made  aware  of  the  objects  of  the  party  who 
rade,  in  a  voice  of  half  indignant  meaning;  i  occupied  it.  The  little  street  was  crowded 
"  sacrebleu  !  who  doe?  not  know  them  ? —  ;  with  cattle,  bullocks,  and  sheep,  fast  wedged 
does  not  all  the  world  know  them  by  this  ,  up  amid  huge  wagons  of  forage  and  carts  of 
time?"  I  corn,    mounted    dragoons    urging   on    the 

"It  is  the  Fourth  who  wear  the  motto  j  jaded  animals,  regardless  of  the  angry 
' Dix  contre  un'  on  their  caps,"  safd  I,  de- :  menaces  or  the  impatient  appeals  inces- 
sirous  to  natter  the  natural  vanity  of  my  I  santly  making  by  the  peasantry,  who  in 
companions.  great  numbers  had  followed  their  stock  from 

"Yes,  monsieur  ;  I  see  you  have  served  their  farms, 
also."  The  soldiers,   who  were  detachments  of 

I  answered  by  a  nod,  for  already  every  different  corps,  .were  also  quarreling  a:r.ong 
word,  every  gesture,  recalled,  to  me  the  j  themselves  for  their  share  of  the  spoil ;  and 
career  I  had  quitted;  and  my  regrets,  so  j  these  altercations,  in  which  more  than  once 
late  subdued  by  reason  arid  reflection,  came  !  I  saw  a  sabre  flash,  added  to  the  discord, 
thronging  back,  and  filled  my  heart  to  It  was,  indeed,  a  scene  of  tumult  and  con- 
bursting,  fusion  almost  inconceivable.     Here  were  a 

Hurrying  onward  now,  I  mounted  the  :  party  of  cuirassiers,  carbine  in  hand,  pro- 
steep  path,  and  soon  regained  the  spot  I  j  tecting  a  drove  of  sheep,  around  which  the 
sought.      The  poor   father  was   sleeping  ;  country  people  were   standing,   seemingly 


overcome  by  fatigue  and  weariness,  he  had 
fallen  on  the  mossy  bank,  and  lay  in  a 
deep,  soft  slumber.  Lifting  him  gently, 
the  strong  troopers  crossed  their  hands  be- 
neath, and  bore  him  along  between  them. 
For  an  instant  he  looked  up  ;  but  seeing 
me  at  his  side,  he  merely  pressed  my  hand, 
and  closed  his  eyes  again. 


irresolute  whether  they  should  essay  an  at- 
tack, a  movement  often  prompted  by  the 
other  soldiers,  who  hoped  in  the  melee 
to  seize  a  part  of  the  prey.  Many  of  the 
oxen  were  bestrode  by  hussars  or  lancers, 
whose  gay  -trappings  formed  a  strange  con- 
trast with  the  beasts  .they  rode  on  ;  while 
more  than  one  stately  horseman  held  a  sheep 


"  Mafoi  /. "  said  one  of  the  dragoons,  in  i  before  him  on  the  saddle,  for  whose  pro- 
a  low  voice,  "  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  j  tection  a  cocked  pistol  seemed  no  ineffectual 
this  were  the  Pere  Arsene,  who  served  with   guarantee. 


the  army  in  Italy.  We  used  to  call  him  old 
s  Scapnlaire.'  He  was  the  only  priest  I 
ever  saw  in  the  van  of  a  brigade.  You 
knew  him  too,  Auguste." 

"Yes,  that  I  did,"  replied  the  other  sol- 
dier ;  "  I  saw  him  at  Elkankah,  where  one 
of  ours  was  unhorsed  by  a  Mameluke,  spring 
forward,  and,  seizing  a  pistol  at  the  holster, 


The  task  of  penetrating  this  dense  and 
turbulent  mob  seemed  to  me. almost  impos- 
sible ;  and  I  expressed  my  fears  to  the  sol- 
diers ;  but  they  replied  that  there  were  too 
many  "  braves"  of  Egypt  there  not  to  re- 
member the  Pore  Arsene  ;  saying  which, 
one  of  the  soldiers,  whispering  a  word  to  his 
companion,  laid  the  priest  gently  upon  the 


shoot  the  Turk  through  the  head,  and  then  ground,  and  then  mounting  rapidly  on  a 
kneel  down  beside  the  dying  man  he  was  j  forage-cart,  he  shouted,  in  a  voice  heard 


with  before,  and  go  on  with  his  prayers. 
Ventrebleu !  that's  what  I  call  discipline." 

"  Where  was  that,  comrade?" 

"At  Elkankah." 

"At  Quoreyn  rather,  my  friend,  two 
leagues  to  the  southward,"  whispered  a  low 
voice. 


above  the  din,  "Comrades  of  the  Fourth, 
we  have  found  an  old  companion — the  Pere 
Scapnlaire  is  here.  Pkce  for  the  good 
father — place  there  !  " 

A  hundred  loud  vivas  welcomed  this  an- 
nouncement, for  the  name  was  well  known 
i  to  many  who  never  had  seen  the  priest,  und 


5o'6 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


cheer  after  cheer  for  the  " bun  pere"  now 
rang  through  this  motley  assemblage. 

To  the  wild  confusion  of  a  moment  be- 
fore the  regularity  of  discipline  at  once  suc- 
ceeded, and  a  lane  was  quickly  formed  for 
the  soldiers  to  advance  with  the  priest  be- 
tween them,  each  horseman  saluting  as  he 
passed,  as  if  to  his  general  on  parade. 

"To  theTrauben— the  TraUben  !  "  cried 
several  voices,  as  we  went  along  ;  and  this  1 
learned  was  the  little  inn  of  the  village, 
where  the  non-commissioned  officers  in 
charge  of  the  several  parties  were  seated  in 
council  to  arrange  the  subdivision  of  the 
booty. 

Had  not  a  feeling  stronger  than  mere 
personal  consideration  occupied  me,  I  would 
have  now  left  the  good  priest  among  his  old 
comrades,  with  whom  he  was  certain  to 
meet  kindness  and  protection  ;  but  I  could 
not  so  readily  part  with  one  whom,  even  in 
the  few  hours  of  our  intercourse,  I  had 
learned  to  like;  and,  therefore,  enduring 
as  well  as  I  was  able  the  rugged  insubordi- 
nation of  a  soldiery  free  from  the  restraint 
of  discipline,  I  followed  on,  and  soon  found 
myself  at  the  door  of  the  Trauben. 

A  dismounted  dragoon,  with  drawn 
sword,  guarded  the  entrance,  around  which 
a  group  of  angry  peasants  were  gathered, 
loudly  protesting  against  the  robbery  of 
their  flocks  and  farm-yards.  It  was  with 
great  difficulty  I  could  persuade  the  sentry 
to  suffer  me  to  enter  ;  and  when  I  at  last 
succeeded,  I  found  none  willing  to  pay  any 
attention  to  my  request  regarding  a  billet 
for  the  priest ;  for,  unhappily,  his  name  and 
character  were  unknown  to  those  to  whom 
I  addressed  myself.  In  this  dilemma  I  was 
deliberating  what  step  to  take,  when  one  of 
the  soldiers  who  with  such  zealous  devotion 
had  never  left  us,  came  up  to  say  that  his 
corporal  had  just  given  up  his  own  quarters 
for  the  good  father's  use  ;  and  this,  happi- 
ly, was  a  small  summer-house  in  the  garden 
at  the  back  of  the  inn. 

"He  cannot.,come  with  us  himself,"  said 
the  soldier,  "for  he  is  engaged  with  the 
forage  rations,  but  I  have  got  his  leave  to 
take  the  quarters." 

A  small  wicket  beside  the  inn  led  us  into 
a  large,  wildly-grown  orchard,  through 
which  a  broad  path  led  to  the  summer- 
house  in  question  ;  at  least  such  we  guessed 
to  be  the  little  building  from  whose  win- 
dows there  gleamed  the  bright  glare  of  a 
cheerful  fire. 

The  door  lav  open  into  a  little  hall,  from 
which  two  doors  led  into  different  cham- 
bers. Over  one  of  these  was  marked  in 
chalk  "qu artier-general,"  in  imitation  of 
the  title  assigned  to  a  general's  quarters, 


and  tins  the  soldiers  pronounced  must  be 
long  to  the  corporal.  1  opened  it  accord- 
ingly and  entered.  The  room  was  small 
and  neatly  furnished,  and  with  the  blazing 
wood  upon  the  hearth,  looked  most  com- 
fortable and  inviting. 

"Yes,  we  are  all  right  here — I  know  his 
helmet,  this  is  it,"  said  the  dragoon,  "so 
here  we  must  leave  you.  You'll  tell  the 
good  father  it  was  two  troopers  of  the 
Fourth  who  carried  him  hither,  won't  ye  ? 
Ay,  and  say  Auguste  Prevot  was  one  of 
them — he'll  know  the  name  ;  he  nursed  me 
in  a  fever  I  had  in  Italy." 

"I  wish'  he  were  able  to  give  me  his 
blessing  again,"  said  the  other  ;  "  I  had  it 
before  that  affair  at  Brescia,  and  there  were 
four  of  my  comrades  killed  about  me,  and 
never  a  shot  touched  me.  But  good-night, 
comrade,  good-night."  And  so  saying, 
having 'left  the  father  at  his  length  upon  a 
couch,  they  made  their  military  salute  and 
departed. 

A  rude-looking  flasron  of  beer  which  stood 
on  the  table  was  the  only  thing  I  could  dis- 
cover in  the  chamber,  save  a  canvas  bag  of 
tobacco  and  some  pipes.  1  filled  a  goblet 
with  the  liquor  and  placed  it  to  the  priest's 
lips:  he  swallowed  a  little  of  it,  and  then 
opening  his  eyes,  slowly  looked  around  him, 
while  he  murmured  to  my  question  a  faint 
sound  of  "  Better — much  better.'-'  I  knew 
enough  of  such  matters  to  be  aware  that 
perfect  rest  and  repose  were  the  greatest 
aids  to  his  recovery,  and  so,  replenishing 
the  fire,  I  threw  myself  down  on  the  large 
dragoon  cloak  which  lay  on  the  floor,  and 
prepared  to  pass  the  night  where  I  was. 

The  long-drawn  breathings  of  the  sleep- 
ing man,  the  perfect  quiet  and  stillness  of 
al  1  around — for  though  not  far  distant  from 
the  village,  the  thick  wood  of  trees  inter- 
cepted every  sound  from  that  ryiarter — and 
my  fatigue  combined,  soon  brought  on 
drowsiness. 

I  struggled,  so  long  as  I  was  able,  against 
the  tendency,  but  a  humming  sound  filled 
my  ears,  the  objects  grew  fainter  before  my 
vision,  and  I  sank  into  that  half-dreamy 
state  when  consciousness  remains,  but 
clouded  and  indistinct  in  all  its  percep- 
tions. Twice  the  door  was  opened  and 
some  persons  entered,  but  though  they 
spoke  loudly,  I  heard  not  their  words,  nor 
could  I  recognize  their  appearance  ;  to  this 
succeeded  a  deep,  sound  sleep,  the  recom- 
pense of  great  fatigue. 

The  falling  of  apiece  of  firewood  on  the 
hearth  awoke  me.  I  opened  my  eyes  and 
looked  about.  The  room  had  no  other 
light  than  from  the  embers  of  the  wood 
fire  and  the  piece  of  blazing  pine  which  had 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


557 


just  fallen,  but  even  by  that  uncertain  glare 
I  could  see  enough  to  amaze  and  confuse 
me. 

On  the  couch  where  I  had  left  the  priest 
sleeping,  the  old  man  was  now  seated,  his 
head  uncovered,  and  a  scarf  of  light  blue 
silk  across  his  shoulders  and  falling  to  his 
feet;  before  him,  and  kneeling,  was  a  fig- 
ure, of  which  for  some  minutes  I  in  vain 
endeavored  to  ascertain  the  traits,  for  while 
in  the  military  air  of  the  dress  there  was 
something  to  mark  the  soldier,  a  waving 
mass  of  hair  loosely  falling  on  the  back  be- 
spoke another  sex.  While  .1  yet  doubted, 
the  flickering  flame  burst  forth  and  showed 
me  the  small  and  beautiful  shaped  foot 
which  from  beneath  a  loose  trowser  peeped 
forth,  and  in  the  neat  boot  and  tastefully 
ornamented  spur  I  recognized  in  an  instant 
it  was  a  "  vivandiere  "  of  the  army— one  of 
those  who,  amid  all  the  reckless  abandon  of 
the  life  of  camps  and  battle-fields,  can  yet 
preserve  some  vestige  of  coquetry  and  femi- 
nine grace. 

So  strange  the  sight,  so  complete  the 
heavy  stupor'  of  my  faculties,  that  again 
and  again  I  doubted  whether  the  whole 
might  not  be  the  creation  of  a  dream  ;  but 
the  well-known  tones  of  the  old  man's  voice 
soon  reassured  me,  as  I  heard  him  say, 

"I  know  it  too,  my  child;  I  have  fol- 
lowed too  long  the  fortunes  of  an  army  not 
to  feel  and  to  sorrow  for  these  things;  but 
be  comforted." 

A  passionate  burst  of  tears  from  her  who 
knelt  at  his  feet  interrupted  him  here,  nor 
did  it  seem  that  all  he  could  speak  of  con- 
solation was  able  to  assuage  the  deep  sorrow 
of  the  poor  girl,  whose  trembling  frame  be- 
spoke her  agony. 

By  degrees,  however,  she  grew  calmer — 
a  deep  sob  or  a  long-drawn  sigh  alone  would 
he  heard,  as  the  venerable  father,  with  im- 
passioned eloquence,  depicted  the  happiness 
of  those  who  sought  the  blessings  of  reli- 
gion, and  could  tear  themselves  from  the 
world  and  its  ambitions  ;  warming  with  his 
theme,  he  descanted  on  the  lives  of  those 
saints  on  earth  whose  every  minute  was  an 
offering  of  heavenly  love  ;  and  contrasted 
the  holy  calm  of  a  convent  with  the  wild 
revelry  of  the  camp,  or  the  more  revolting 
carnage  of  the  battle-field. 

"  Speak  not  of  these  things,  father ;  your 
own  voice  trembles  with  proud  emotion  at 
the  mention  of  glorious  war.  Tell  me,  oh ! 
tell  me  that  I  may  have  hope,  and  yet  leave 
not  all  that  makes  life  endurable." 

The  old  man  spoke  again,  but  his  tones 
were  low,  and  his  words  seemed  a  reproof, 
for  she  bowed  her  head  between  her  hands 
and  sobbed  heavily. 


To  the  long  and  impassioned  appeal  of 
the  priest  there  now  succeeded  a  silence, 
only  broken  by  the  deep-drawn  sighs  of  her 
who  knelt  in  sadnes.s  and  penitence  before 

him. 

"And  his  name  ?"  said  the  father- — "  you 
have  not  tcld  his  name." 

A  pause  followed,  in  which  nut  even  a 
breathing  was  heard — then  a  low,  murmur- 
ing sound  came,  and  it  seemed  to  me  as 
though  I  heard  my  own  name  uttered.  I 
started  at  the  sound,  and  with  the  noise  the 
"vivandiere  "  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"I  heard  a  noise  there,"  said  she  reso- 
lutely. 

"It  is  my  companion  of  the  journey," 
said  the  priest;  "poor  fellow,  he  is  tired 
and  weary  ;  he  sleeps  soundly." 

"I  did  not  know  you  had  a  fellow-trav- 
eler, father." 

'•'Yes,  we  met  in  the  Creutz  Mountains, 
and,  since  that,  have  wended  our  way  to- 
gether.    A  soldier — " 

"A  soldier  !  is  he  wounded,  then  ?" 

"  No,  my  child,  he  is  leaving  the  army." 

"  Leaving  the  army,  and  not  wounded — 
he  is  old  and  disabled,  perhaps." 

"Neither — he  is  both  young  and  vigor- 
ous." 

'•'Shame  on  him,  then,  that  he  turn  his 
back  on  fame  and  fortune,  and  leave  the 
path  that 'brave  men  tread.  He  never  was 
a  soldier.  No, 'father,  he  in  whose  heart 
the  noble  passion  once  has  lived  can  never 
forget  it." 

"  Hush,  child,  hush  !  "  said  the  priest, 
motioning  with  his  hand  to  her  to  be  silent. 

"  Let  me  look  on  him,"  said  the  vivan- 
diere, as  she  stooped  clown  and  took  from 
the  hearth  a  piece  of  lighted  wood — "let 
me  see  this  man,  and  learn  the  features  'of 
one  who  can  be  so  craven  of  spirit,  so  poor 
of  heart,  as  to  fly  the  field,  while  thousands 
arc  flocking  toward  it." 

Burning  with  shame  and  indignation,  I 
arose,  just  as  she  approached  me.  The 
pine-branch  threw  its  red  gleam  over  her 
bright  uniform,  and  then  upon  her  face. 
"Minette!  Minette  !  "  I  exclaimed  ;  but 
with  a  wild  shriek  she  let  fall  the  burning 
wood,  and  fell  senseless  to  the  ground. 

It  was  some  time  before,  with  all  our  care, 
she  recovered  consciousness — and  even  then, 
in  her -wild,  excited  glance,  one  might  read 
the  struggles  of  her  mind  to  credit  "what 
bad  occurred.  A  few  broken,  unconnected 
phrases  would  escape  her  at  intervals,  and 
she  seemed  laboring  to  regain  the  lost  clue 
to  her  recollections— when, again,  she  turned 
her  eyes  toward  me.  At  the  same  instant, 
the  trumpet  sounded  without  for  the  reveil, 
and  was  answered  by  many  a  call  from  other 


558 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


parties  around.  With  a  steadfast  gaze  of 
wonderment  she  fixed  her  look  on  me — and 
twice  passed  her  hands  across  her  eyes,  as 
though  she  doubted  the  evidence  of  her 
senses. 

"Minette,  hear  me;  let  me  speak-  but 
one  word.*' 

"There  it  is  again,"  cried  she,  as  the 
blast  rang  out  a  second  time,  and  the  clat- 
ter of  horsemen  resounded  from  the  street. 
"Adieu,  sir:  our  roads  lie  not  together. 
Father,  your  blessing;  if  your  good  coun- 
sel, this  night,  has  not  made  its  way  to 
my  heart,  the  lesson  has  come  elsewhere. 
Glood-by  !  good-by  !  "  She  pressed  the  old 
man's  hand  to  her  lips,  and  darted  from 
the  room. 

Stunned,  and  like  one  spell-bound,  I 
could  not  move  for  a  few  seconds — and 
then,  with  a  wild  cry,  I  bounded  after  her 
through  the  garden.  The  wicket,  how- 
ever, was  fastened  on  the  outside,  and  it 
was  some  time  before  I  could  scale  the  wall 
and  reach  the  street. 

The  day  was  just  breaking,  but  already 
the  village  was  thronged  with  soldiers,  who 
were  preparing  for  the  march,  and  arrang- 
ing their  parties  to  conduct  the  wagons. 
Hurrying  on  through  the  crowded  and  con- 
fused mass,  I  looked  on  every  side  for  the 
"vivandiere,"  but  in  vain.  Groups  of  dif- 
ferent regiments  passed  and  repassed  me — 
but  to  my  questions  they  returned  either  a 
jeering  reply,  or  a  mere  laugh  of  derision. 
"But  a  few  days  agor"  thought  I,  "and 
these  fellows  had  scarce  dared  to  address 
me — and  now — "  Oh  !  the  blighting  mis- 
ery of  that  thought — I  was  no  longer  a  sol- 
dier— the  meanest  horseman  of  his  troop 
was  my  superior.  I  passed  through  the 
village,  and  reached  the  high-road.  Before 
me  was  a  party  of  dragoons,  escorting  a 
drove  of  cattle  ;  I  hastened  after  them,  but 
on  coming  near,  discovered  they  were  a 
light  cavalry  detachment.  Sick  at  heart,  I 
leaned  against  a  tree  at  the  wayside,  when 
again  I  heard  the  tramp  of  horses  approach- 
ing. I  looked,  and  saw  the  tall  helmets  of 
the  Fourth,  who  were  corning  slowly  along, 
conducting  some  large  wagons,  drawn  by 
eight  or  ten  horses.  In  front  of  the  detach- 
ment rode  a  man,  whose  enormous  stature 
made  him  at  once  remarkable,  as  well  as 
the  air  of  soldierly  bearing  he  dispjayed  ; 
beside  him  was  Minette — the  reins  had 
fallen  on  her  horse's  neck,  and  her  face  was 
buried  in  her  hands. 

"Ah  !  if  I  had  thought  that  priest  would 
have  made  thee- so  sad,  mademoiselle,  I'd 
have  made  him  spend  his  night  beneath  a 
wagon,  rather  than  in  my  quarters,*'  said  a 
deep,  hollow  voice  I  at  once  recognized  as 


t  hat  of  Piochc.  "  But  the  morning  air  will 
revive  thee  ;  so  let  us  forward — by  threes — 
open  order — trot."  The  word  was  obeyed 
— the  heavy  tramp  of  the  horses,  with  the 
dull  roll  of  the  wagons,  drowned  all  other 
sounds — the  cortege  moved  on — and  I  was 
alone. 


CHAPTER    LXXIIL* 

THE    "PENSION    DE     LA    ItUK    MI-CAREME." 

When"  I  returned  to  the  garden,  I  found 
that  the  Pete  Arsfcne  was  seized  by  an  ac- 
cess of  that  dreadful  malady,  whose  inter- 
vals of  comparative  release  are  but  periods 
of  dread  or  despondence.  The  tertian  of 
Egypt,  so  fatal  among  the  French  troops, 
now  numbered  him  among  its  victims — and 
he  looked  worn  and  exhausted,  like  one 
after  weeks  of  illness. 
'  My  first  care  was  to  present  myself  to  the 
official  whose  business  it  was  to  inspect  the 
passports,and  by  explaining  the  condition  of 
my  poor  friend,  to  entreat  permission  to  de- 
lay my  journey — at  least  until  he  should  be 
somewhat  recovered.  The  gruff  old  ser- 
geant, however,  deliberately  examined  my 
passport,  and  as  rigidly  decided  that  I  could 
not  remain.  The  words  of  the  minister 
were  clear  and  definite — "  Day  by  day, 
without  halt,  to  the  nearest  frontier  of 
France,"  was  the  direction — and  with  this 
I  must  comply.  In  vain  I  assured  him  that 
no  personal  convenience,  no  wish  of  my  own, 
urged  the  request,  but  the  duty  of  human- 
ity toward  a  fellow-traveler,  and  one  who 
had  strong,  claims  on  every  soldier  of  the 
Empire. 

"Leave  him  to  me,  monsieur,"  was  the 
only  reply  I  could  obtain  ;  and  the  utmost 
favor  he  would  grant  was  the  permission  to 
take  leave  of  my  poor  friend  before  I  start- 
ed. 

Amid  all  the  sufferings  of  his  malady,  I 
found  the  good  priest  dwelling  in  his  mind 
on  the  scene  with  the  "  vjvandiere  "  which, 
perhaps,  from  the  impressionable  character 
of  a'sick  man's  temperament,  had  entirely 
filled  his  thoughts— and  thus  he  wandered 
from  the  subject  of  his  own  sorrows  to.  hers, 
with  scarcely  a  transition  between  them. 
When  I  mentioned  the  necessity  of  our 
parting,  he  seemed  to  feel  it  more  on  my 
account  than  his  own. 

"  I  wished  to  have  reached  Pans  with 
you,"  he  repeated ,over  and  over.  "  It  was 
not  impossible  I  could  have  arranged  your 
return  home.  But  you  must  go  down  to 
Sevres — the  priest  there,  whoever  he  may 
be,  will   know  of  me — tell  him  everything 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


559 


without  reserve.  I  am  too  ill  to  write,  but 
if  I  get  better  soon —  Well,  well,  that  poor 
girl  is  an  orphan  too — and  Alphonse  was  an 
orphan.  With  what  misery  have  we  strug- 
gled in  France  since  this  man  has  ruled  our 
destinies — how  have  the  crimes  of  a  people 
brought  their  retribution  to  every  heart  and 
every  home  ! — none  too' low,  none  too  hum- 
ble, to  feel  them.  Leave  this  land — no 
blessing  c'anrest  upon  it  now.  Poor  thing, 
how  worthy  of  a  better  lot  she  is.  If  this 
same  officer  should  know — it  is  not  impos- 
sible— but,  why  do  I  say  this  ?  No,  no  ; 
you'll  never  meet  him  now."  He  continued 
to  mutter  thus  some  broken  and  disjointed 
sentences,  half  aloud,  for  some  minutes — 
apparently  unconscious  of  my  presence. 

"  He  was  in  a  regiment  of  the  Guard — 
alas,  she  told  me  which,  but  I  forget  it  now 
— but  his  name,  surely  I  remember  his 
name  ?  Well,  well,  it  is  a  sad  story.  Adieu, 
my  dear  child—  good-by  ;  we  have  each  a 
weary  road  before  us — but  my  journey,  al- 
though the  longest,  will  be  soonest  accom- 
plished. Do  not  forget  my  words  to  you  — 
your  own  country,  and  your  country's 
cause,  above  every  other — all  else  is  the 
hireling's  part ;  the  sense  of  duty  alone  can 
sustain  a  man  in  the  trials  which  fit  him 
for  this  world,  or  that  better  one  which  is 
to  follow.  Adieu."  He  threw  his  arm 
around  me  as  he  said  this,  and  leaned  ex- 
hausted and  faint  upon  my  shoulder. 

The  few  who  journey  through  life  with 
little  sympathy  or  friendship  from  their  fel- 
low-men, may  know  how  it  rent  my  heart 
to  part  with  one  to  whom  I  clung  every 
hour  closer  ;  my  throat  swelled  and  throb- 
bed, and  I  could  only  articulate  a  faint 
good-by  as  we  parted.  As  the  door  was 
closing,  I  heard  his  voice  again: 

"  Yes,  I  have  it  now — I  remember  it  well 
- — '  Lie  Capitaine  Burke.'  " 

I  started  in  amazement,  for  during  all  our 
intercourse  he  had  never  asked,  nor  had  I 
told  my  name — and  I  stood  unable  to  speak, 
when  he  continued  : 

"You'll  think  of  the  name.  She  said, 
too.  he  was  on  the  staff — '  Burke  ' — poor 
girl!" 

I  did  not  wait  for  more,  but  like  one  flv- 
ing  from  some  dreaded  enemy  I  rushed 
through  the  garden,  and  gained  the  road — 
my  heart  torn  with  many  a  conflicting 
thought ;  the  bitterest  of  all  being  the 
memory  of  Minette,  the  orphan  girl,  who 
alone  of  all  the  world  cared  for  me.  Oh  ! 
if  strong,  deep-rooted  affection — the  love  of 
a  whole  heart — can  raise  the  spirit  above 
the  every-day  contentions  of  the  world  — 
can  ennoble  thought,  refine  sentiments,  and 
divest  life  of  all  its  meaner  traits,  making  a 


path  of  flowers  among  the  rocks  and  brieis 
of  our  worldly  pilgrimage — so  does  the  pos- 
session of  affection,  fur  which  we  .cannot 
give  requital,  throw  a  gloom  over  the  soul, 
for  which  there  is  no  remedy.  Better,  a 
thousand  times  better,  had  I  home  all  the 
solitary  condition  of  my  lot,  unrelieved  by 
one  token  of  regard,  than  think  of  her  who 
had  wrecked  her  fortunes  on  my  own. 

With  many  a  sad  thought  I  plodded  on- 
ward— the  miles  passed  over  seemed  like 
the  events  in  some  troubled  dream— and  of 
my  journey  I  have  not  a  recollection  re- 
maining. It  was  late  in  the  evening  when 
I  reached  the  Barriere  de  I'Etoile,  and 
entered  Paris.  The  long  lines  of. lamps 
along  the  quays — the  glittering  reflection 
in  the  calm  river — the  subdued  but  con- 
tinual hum  of  a  great  city— awoke  me 
from  my  reverie,  and  I  bethought  me  that 
my  career  of  life  must  now  begin  anew,  and 
all  my  energies  must  be  called  on  to  fashion 
out  my  destiny. 

On  the  morning  after  my  arrival  1  pre- 
sented myself,  in  compliance  with  the  re- 
quisite form,  before  the  minister  of  police. 
Little  information  of  mine  was  necessary 
to  explain  the  circumstances  under  which 
I  was  placed.  He  was  already  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  the  whole,  and  seemed  in 
no  wise  disposed  to  evince  any  undue  lenity 
toward  one  who  had  voluntarily  quitted  the 
service  of  the  Emperor. 

"  Where  do  you  purpose  to  remain,  sir  ?  " 
said  the  Prefet,  as  he  concluded  a  lengthen- 
ed and  searching  scrutiny  of  my  appear- 
ance. 

"In  Paris,"  I  replied,  briefly. 

"  In  Paris,  I  suppose,"  said  he,  with  a 
slight  derisive  curl  of  the  lip  ;  "of  that  I 
should  think  there  can  be  little  doubt ;  but 
I  wished  to  ascertain  more  accurately  your 
address — in  what  part  of  the  city." 

"As  yet  I  cannot  tell — I  am  almost  a 
stranger  here  ;  a  day  or  two  will,  however, 
enable  me  to  choose — and  then  I  shall  re- 
turn here  with  the  intelligence." 

"That  is  sufficient,  sir — I  shall  expect 
to  see  you  soon."  He  waved  his  hand  in 
sign  to  me  to  withdraw,  and  I  was  but  too 
happy  to  follow  the  indication.  As  I 
hastened  down  the  stairs,  and  forced  my 
way  through  the  crowd  of  persons  who 
awaited  ah  audience  with  the  prefet,  I 
heard  a  voice  close  to  my  ear  whisper,  "A 
word,  one  word  with  you,  monsieur."  Con- 
ceiving, -however,  it  could  not  have  been 
intended  for  me,  to  whom  no  face  there 
was  familiar,  I  passed  on,  and  reached  the 
court. 

The  noise  of  footsteps  rapidly  moving  on 
the  gravel  behind  me  induced  me  to  turn, 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


and  I  beheld  a  small,  miserably-dressed 
man,  whose  spare  and  wasted  form  bespoke 
the  sorest  trials  of  poverty,  advancing  to- 
ward me,  hat  in  hand.  "  Will  you  deign 
mo  one  word,  monsieur?"  said  he,  in  ;i 
voice  whose  tone,  although  that  of  entreaty, 
was  yet  remote  from- the  habitual  accent  of 
one  asking  alms. 

"  You  must  mistake  me,"  said  I,  desirous 
to  pass  on  ;  "  1  am  unknown  to  you." 

"  True,  sir  ;  hut  it  is  as  a  stranger  I  take 
the  liberty  of  addressing  you.  I  heard  you 
say,  just  now,  that  you  had  not  fixed  on 
any  place  of  abode  in  Paris;  now,  if  1 
might  venture  to  entreat  your  preference 
for  this  establishment,  it  would  be  too 
much  honor  for  me,  its  poor  master." 

Here  he  placed  in  my  hands  a  small  card, 
inscribed  with  the  words,.  "Pension  Bour- 
geoise,  Rue  cle  Mi-Car  erne,  Boulevard  Mont 
Parnasse,  No.  4G,"  at  top  ;  and  beneath 
was  a  paragraph,  setting  forth  the  economi- 
cal fact  that  a  man  might  eat,  drink,  and 
sleep  for  the  sum  of  twelve  francs  a  week, 
enjoying  the  delights  of  "agreeable  society, 
pleasant  environs,  and  all  the  advantages 
of  a  country  residence." 

It  was  with  difficulty  I  could  avoid  a 
smile  at  the  shivering  figure  who  ventured 
to  present  himself  as  an  inducement  to  try 
the  fare  of  his  house.  "Whether  my  eyes 
did  wander  from  the  card  to  his  counte- 
nance, or  any  other  gesture  of  mine  betrayed 
my  thoughts,  the  old  man  seemed  to  divine 
what  was  passing  in  my  mind,  and  said  : 

"  Monsieur  will  not  pronounce  on  the 
'Pension!p  irom  the  humble  guise  of  its 
master.  Let  him  but  try  it — and  I  promise 
that  these  poor  rags,  this  miserable  figure, 
has  no  type  within  the  walls." 

There  was  a  tone  of  deep  dejection, 
mingled  with  a  sense  of  conscious  pride,  in 
which  he  said  these  few  words,  that  at 
once  decided  me  not  to  grieve  him  by  a 
refusal. 

"  You  may  count  on  me  then,  monsieur," 
said  I  ;  "my  stay  here  is  so  far  uncertain, 
that  it  depends  not  altogether  on  myself — 
but  for  the  present  I  am  your  guest."  I 
took  my  purse  from  my  pocket  as  I  spoke, 
knowing  the  custom  in  these  humbler  board- 
ing houses  was  to  pay  in  advance  ;  but  the 
old  man  reddened  slightly,  and  motioned 
with  his  hand  a  refusal. 

"Monsieur  is  a  captain  in  the  Guards," 
said  he,  proudly  ;   "  no  more  is  necessary." 

"You  mistake,  friend,  I  am  no  longer 
so — I  have  left  the  army." 

"Left  it,  en  relraite?"  said  he  inquir- 
ingly. 

"  Not  so.  Left  it  at  my  own  free  will 
and   choice.      And   now,    perhaps,    I   had 


better  tell  you,  that  as  I  may  not  enjo^ 
any  considerable  share  of  good  will  from 
the  police  authorities  here,  my  presence 
might  be  less  acceptable  to  your  other 
guests,  or  to  yourself." 

The  old  man's  eyes  sparkled  as  1  spoke, 
and  his  lips  moved  rapidly,  as  though  he 
were  speaking  to  himself;  then,  taking  my 
hand,  he  pressed  it-  to  his  lips,  and  said, 

"  Monsieur  could  not  be  more  welcome 
than  at  present.  Shall  we  expect  you  to- 
day at  dinner  ?  " 

"  Be  it  so.     Your  hour?" 

"  Four  o'clock,  to  the  moment.  Do  not 
forget  the  number,  46 — Monsieur  Rubichon 
— the  house  with  a  large  garden  in  front." 

"Till  then,"  said  I,  bowing  to  my  host, 
whose  ceremonious  politeness  made  me  feel 
my  own  salute  an  act  of  rudeness  in  com- 
parison. 

As  1  parted  from  the  old  man,  I  was  glad 
at  the  relief  to  my  own  thoughts  which 
even  thus  much  of  speculation  afforded, 
and  sauntered  on,  fancying  many  a  strange 
conceit  about  the  Pension  and  its  inhabi- 
tants. At  last  the  hour  drew  near  ;  and 
having  placed  my  few  effects  m  a  cabriolet, 
I  set  out  for  the  distant  boulevard  of  Mont 
Parnasse. 

I  remarked  with  pleasure  that,  as  we  went 
along,  the  streets  and  thoroughfares  became 
gradually  less  and  less  crowded:  scarcely  a 
carriage  of  any  kind  was  to  be  met  with. 
The  shops  were,  for  the  most  part,  the  quiet, 
unpretending-looking  places  one  sees  in  a 
provincial  town  ;  and  an  air  of  peacefulness 
and  retirement  prevailed,  strongly  at  va- 
riance with  the  clamor  and  din  of  the  heart 
of  the  capital.  This  was  more  than  ever 
so  as  we  emerged  upon  the  boulevard  itself  ; 
on  one  side  of  which  houses  at  long, 
straggling  intervals,  alone  were  to  be  seen  ; 
at  the  other,  the  country  lay  open  to  the 
view,  with  its  orchards  and  gardens,  for 
miles  away. 

"  Saprelotte,"  said  the  driver,  who,  like 
so  many  of  his  calling,  was  a  blunt  son  of 
Adsace — "saprelotte,  we  have  come  to  the 
end  of  the  world  here.  How  do  you  call 
the  strange  street  you  are  looking  for  ?" 

"The  'Rue  de  Mi-Careme.'" 

"Mi-Careme?  I'd  rather  you  lived  there 
than  me.  That  name  does  not  promise 
much  in  regard  to  good  feeding.  Can  this 
beit?" 

As  he  spoke,  he  pointed  with  his  whip  to 
a  narrow,  deserted-looking  street,  which 
opened  from  the  boulevard.  The  houses 
were  old  and  dilapidated,  but  stood  in  small 
gardens,  and  seemed  like  the  remains  of  the 
villa  residences  of  the  Parisians  in  times 
long  past.      A  few  more   modern  edifices 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


561 


flaring  with  red  brick  fronts,  wore  here  and 
there  scattered  amongst  them  ;  but,  for  all 
the  decay  and  dismantlement  of  the  others, 
they  seemed  like  persons  of  rank  and  con- 
dition in  the  company  of  their  inferiors. 

Few  of  the  larger  houses  were  inhabited. 
Large  placards,  "  a  louer,"  on  the  gateways 
or  the  broken  railings  of  the  garden,  set 
forth  the  ad  vantages  of  a  handsome  resi- 
dence, situated  between  court  and  garden  ; 
but  the  falling  roofs  and  broken  windows 
were  in  sad  discordance  with  the  eulogy. 

The  unaccustomed  noise  of  wheels,  as  we 
went  along  drew  many  to  the  doors  to  stare 
at  us,  and  in  the  gathering  groups  I  could 
mark  the  astonishment  so  rare  a  spectacle 
as  a  cabriolet  afforded  in  these  secluded 
parts. 

"Is  this  the  'Rue  Mi-Careme  ? ' ' '  said 
the  driver  to  a  boy,  who  stood  gazing  in 
perfect  wonderment  at  our  equipage. 

"  Yes,"  muttered  the  child — "yes.  Who 
are  you  come  for  now  ? " 

"Come  for,  my  little  man  ?  Not  for  any 
one.     What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

"I  thought  it  was  the  commissaire,"  said 
the  boy. 

"*Ah,  sapperment !  I  knew  we  were  in  a 
droll  neighborhood,"  murmured  the  driver. 
"  It  would  seem  they  never  see  a  cabriolet 
here,  except  when  it  brings  the  commissaire 
de  police  to  look  after  some  one." 

If  this  reflection  did  not  tend  to  allay 
my  previous  doubts  upon  the  nature  of  the 
locality,  it  certainly  aided  to  excite  my 
curiosity,  and  I  was  determined  to  persist 
in  my  resolution  of  at  least  seeing  the  in- 
terior of  the- "  Pension." 

"  Here  we  are  at  last,"  cried  the  driver, 
throwing  down  his  whip  on  the  horse's  back, 
as  he  sprang  to  the  ground,  and  read  aloud 
from  a  board  fastened  to  a  tree,  "  'Pension 
Bourgeoise.  M.  Rubichon,  proprietaire.' 
Shall  I  wait  for  monsieur  ?  " 

"No.  Take  out  that  portmanteau  and 
cloak.     I  am  not  going  back  now." 

A  stare  of  most  undisguised  astonish- 
ment was  the  only  reply  he  made,  as  he 
took  forth  my  baggage,  and  placed  it  at  the 
little  gate. 

"You'll  be  coming  home  at  night,"  said 
he,  at  length  ;  "shall  I  come  to  fetch  you  ? 
Not  to-night  ?"  repeated  he,  in  amazement. 
"Well,  adieu,  monsieur — you  know  best; 
but  I'd  not  come  a-pleasuring  up  here,  if  I 
was  a  young  fellow  like  you." 

As  he  drove  away,  I  turned  to  look  at  the 
building  before  me,  which,  up  to  this  time, 
I  had  not  sufficiently  noted.  It  was  a  long, 
two-storied  house,  which  evidently  at  an 
early  period  had  been  a  mansion  of  no  mean 
pretension.  The  pilasters  which  ornamented 
vol.  i.— 36 


the  windows,  the  balustrades  of  the  parapet, 
and  the  pediment  above  the  entrance,  were 
still  remaining,  though  in  a  dilapidated 
condition.  The  garden  in  front  showed 
also  some  signs  of  that  quaint  taste  origi- 
nally borrowed  from  the  Dutch,  and  the 
yew-trees  still  preserved  some  fainl  resem- 
blance to  the  beasts  and  animals  after  which 
they  had  once  been  fashioned,  though  time 
and  growth  had  altered  the  outlines,  and 
given  to  many  a  goodly  lion  or  stag  the 
bristly  coat  of  a  porcupine. 

A  little  fountain,  which  spouted  from  a 
sea-monster's  nostrils,  was  grass-grown  and. 
choked  with  weeds.  Everything  betokened 
neglect  and  ruin  ;  even  the  sun-dial  had 
fallen  across  the  walk,  and  lay  moss-grown 
and  forgotten,  as  though  to  say  that  Time 
had  no  need  of  a  record  there.- 

The  jalousies,  which  were  closed  in  every 
window,  permitted  no  view  of  the  interior; 
nor  did  anything,  save  a  faint  curl  of  light 
blue  smoke  from  one  chimney,  give  token 
of  habitation. 

I  could  not  help  smiling  to  myself  at  the 
absurd  fancy  which  had  suffered  me  to  feel 
that  this  deserted  quarter,  this  lonesome 
dwelling,  contained  anything  either  adven- 
turous or  strange  about  it,  or  that  I  should 
find  either  in  the  "  Pension"  or  its  guests 
wherewithal  to  interest  or  amuse  me.  With 
this  thought  I  opened  the  wicket,  and  cross- 
ing the  garden,  pulled  the  bell-rope  that 
hung  beside  the  door. 

The  deep  clanging  echoed  again  and  again 
to  my  summons,  and  ere  it  ceased,  the  door 
was  opened,  and  M.  Rubichon  himself  stood 
before  me.  No  longer,  however,  the  M. 
Rubichon  of  the  morning,  in  garments  of 
worn  and  tattered  poverty,  but  attired  in  a 
suit  which,  if  threadbare,  was  at  least  clean 
and  respectable-looking  ;  a  white  vest,  and 
ruffles  also,  added  to  the  air  of  neatness  of 
his  costume  ;  and  whether  from  his  own 
deserts,  or  my  surprise  at  the  transforma- 
tion, he  seemed  to  me  to  possess  the  look 
and  bearing  of  a  true  gentleman. 

Having  welcomed  me  with  the  well-bred 
and  easy  politeness  of  one  who  knew  the 
habits  of  society,  he  gave  orders  to  a  serv- 
ant-girl to  conduct  me  to  a  room,  adding, 
"May  I  beg  of  monsieur  to  make  a  rapid 
toilet",  for  the  dinner  will  be  served  in  less 
than  ten  minutes." 

The  M.  Rubichon  of  the  morning  no 
more  prepared  me  for  that  gentleman  at 
evening  than  did  the  ruinous  exterior  of 
the  dwelling  for  the  neat  and  comely  cham- 
ber into  which  I  was  now  installed.  The 
articles  of  furniture  were  few,  but  scrupu- 
lously clean  ;  and  the  white  curtains  of  the 
little    bed,    the    cherry-wood    chairs,    the 


562 


CHARLES  u;\'i;irs  woiiks. 


table,  with  its  gray  marble  top — all  were 
the  perfection  of  that  propriety  which  gives 
even  to  humble  things  a  look  of  elegance. 

I  had  but  time  to  make  a  slight  change 
in  my  dress  when  the  bel]  sounded  for  din- 
ner, and  at  (lie  same  instant  a  gentle  knock 
came  to  my  door.  It,  was  M.  Eubichon, 
come  to  conduct  me  to  the  salle,  and  anx- 
ious, to  know  if  I  were  satisfied  with  my 
chamber. 

"In  summer,  monsieur,  if  Ave  shall  have 
the  happiness  of  possessing  you  here  at  that 
season,  the  view  of  the  garden  is  delight  fid 
from  this  window ;  and — you  have  not 
noticed  it,  of  course — but  there  is  a  little 
stair,  which  descends  from  the  window  into 
the  garden,  which  you  will  find  a  great 
convenience  when  you  wish  to  walk.  This 
way,  now.  "We  are  a  small  party  to-day, 
and  indeed  shall  be  for  a  few  weeks. 
What  name  shall  I  have  the  honor  to  an- 
nounce ?  " 

"Mr.  Burke." 

"Ah  !  an  Irish  name,"  said  he,  smiling, 
as  he  threw  open  the  door  of  a  spacious, 
but  simply  furnished  apartment,  in  which 
ibout  a  dozen   persons   were   standing   or : 
sitting  around  the  stove.     I  could  not  help 
remarking    that,    as    Monsieur    Eubichon  1 
presented  me  to  his  other  guests,  my  name  | 
seemed  to  meet  a  kind  of  recognition  from  ! 
each  in  turn.     My  host  perceived  this,  and  j 
explained  it  at  once  by  saying,  "We  have 
a  namesake  of  yours  amongst  us — not  ex- ; 
actly  at  this  moment,  for  he  is  in  Nor- 
mandy— but  he  will  be  back  in  a  week  or 
so.     Madame  de  Langeac,  let  me  present 
Mr.  Burke." 

Monsieur  Eubichon's  guests  were  all  per- 
sons somewhat  advanced  in  life ;  and 
though,  in  their  dress,  evincing  a  most  un- 
varying simplicity  and  economy,  had  yet  a 
look  of  habitual  good  tone  and  breeding 
which  could  not  be  mistaken.  Among 
these,  the  lady  to  whom  I  was  now  intro- 
duced was  conspicuous — and  in  her  easy 
and  graceful  reception  of  me,  showed  the 
polished  manners  of  one  accustomed  to  the 
oest  society. 

After  some  few  half-jesting  observations, 
•  expressive  of  surprise  that  a  young  man — 
and  consequently,  as  she  deemed,  a  gay  one 
— should  have  selected  as  his  residence  an 
unvisited  quarter,  and  a  very  retired  house 
— she  took  my  arm,  and  proceeded  to  the 
dinner-room. 

The  dinner  itself,  and  the  table  equipage, 
were,  in  keeping  with  the  simplicity  of  the 
whole  establishment ;  but  if  the  fare  was 
humble,  and  the  wine  of  the  very  cheapest, 
all  the  habitudes  of  the  very  highest  society 
presided  at  the  meal,  and  the  polished  ease 


and  elegance,  so  eminently  the  gift  of  an- 
cient  French  manners,  were  conspicuous. 

There  prevailed  among  the  guests  all  the 
intimacy  of  a  large  family,  at  the  same 
time  a  most  courteous  deference  was  re- 
markable, which  never  approached  famil- 
iarity; and  thus  they  talked  lightly  and 
pleasantly  together  of  mutual  friends  and 
places  they  had  visited — no  allusion  ever 
being  made  to  the  popular  topics  of  the 
day — to  me  a  most  inexplicable  circum-' 
stance,  and  one  which  I  could  not  avoid 
slightly  expressing  my  astonishment  at  to 
the  lady  beside  me. 

She  smiled  significantly  at  my  remark, 
and  merely  said,  "  It  is  so  agreeable  to  dis- 
cuss matters  where  there  can  be  no  great 
difference  of  opinion — at  least,  no  more 
than  sharpens  the  wit  of  the  speakers — that 
you  will  rarely  hear  other  subjects  talked 
of  here." 

"But  have  the  great  events  which  are 
yet  passing  no  interest  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  they  interest  too  deeply  to 
admit  of  much  discussion,"  said  she,  with 
some  earnestness  of  manner;  "but  I  am 
myself  transgressing — and  what  is  still 
worse,  losing  you  the  observations  of  Mon- 
sieur de  Saint  George  on  Madame  de 
Sevigne." 

The  remark  was  evidently  made  to  change 
the  current  of  our  conversation — and  so  I 
accepted  it  —  listening  to  the  chit-chat 
around  me,  which,  from  its  novelty  alone, 
possessed  a  most  uncommon  charm  to  my 
ears.  It  was  so  strange  to  hear  the  allu  • 
sions  to  the  courtiers  and  the  beauties  of 
bygone  days  made  with  all  the  freshness  of 
yesterday  acquaintance — and  the  stores  of 
anecdotes  about' the  court  of  Louis  XV. 
and  the  regency  told  with  a  piquancy  that 
made  the  event  seem  like  an  occurrence  of 
the  morning. 

Before  we  retired  to  the  drawing-room 
for  coffee,  I  saw  that  the  Pension  was  a 
royalist  establishment,  and  wondered  how 
it  happened  that  I  should  have  been  select- 
ed by  the  host  to  make  one  of  his  guests. 
Yet,  unquestionably,  there  seemed  no  re- 
serve toward  me — on  the  contrary,  each 
evinced  a  tone  of  frankness  and  cordiality 
which  made  me  perfectly  at  ease,  and  well 
satisfied  at  the  fortune  which  led  me  to  the 
Eue  Mi-Careme. 

The  little  parties  of  dominoes  and  piquet 
scattered  through  the  salon — some  formed 
groups  to  converse — the  ladies  resumed 
their  embroidery — and  all  the  occupations 
of  in-door  life  were  assumed  with  a  readi- 
ness that  betokened  habit,  and  gave  to  the 
Pension  the  comfortable  air  of  a  home. 

Thus  passed  the  first  evening.     The  next 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


563 


morning  the  party  assembled  at  an  early 
hour  to  breakfast :  after  which  the  gentle- 
men went  out,  and  did  not  appear  until 
dinner-time-  day  succeeding  day  in  un- 
varying but,  to  me,  not  unpleasing  mon- 
otony. I  rarely  wandered  from  the  large 
wilderness  of  a  garden  near  the  house,  and 
saw  weeks  pass  over  without  a  thought  ever 
occurring  to  me  that  life  must  not  thus  be 
suffered  to  ebb. 


CHAPTER  LXXIV. 

MY   NAMESAKE. 

About  a  month  after  I  came  to  live  in 
the  Pension,  I  was  sitting  one  evening  at 
the  window,  watching,  with  the  interest  an 
idle  man  will  ever  attach  to  slight  things, 
the  budding  leaves  of  an  early  spring,  when 
I  heard  a  step  approach  my  chair,  and,  on 
turning  my  head,  perceived  Madame  do 
Langeac  ;  she  carried  her  tabouret  in  her 
hand,  and  came  slowly  toward  me. 

"  1  am  come  to  steal  some  of  your  sun- 
shine, Monsieur  Burke,"  said  the  old  lady, 
smiling  good-naturedly,  as  I  rose  to  present 
a  chair,  "  but  not  to  drive  you  away,  if  you 
will  be  generous  enough  to  keep  me  com- 
pany." 

I  stammered  out  some  common-place 
civility  in  reply,  and  was  silent,  for  my 
thoughts  were  bent  upon  my  future,  and  I 
was  ill-disposed  to  interruption. 

"You  are  fond  of  flowers,  I  have  re- 
marked," continued  she,  as  if  perceiving  my 
preoccupation,  and  willing  to  relieve  it,  by 
taking  the  burden  of  the  conversation ; 
"and  it  is  a  taste  I  love  to  witness — it 
seems  to  me  like  the  evidence  of  a  homely 
habit.  It  is  only  in  childhood  we  learn 
this  love — we  may  cultivate  it  in  after  life 
as  we  will." 

"My  mother  was  passionately  fond  of 
them,"  said  I,  calling  up  a  long-buried 
memory  of  home  and  kindred. 

"  I  thought  so.  These  simple  tastes  are 
the  inheritance  a  mother  gives  her  child, 
and,  happily,  they  survive  every  change  of 
fortune." 

I  sighed  heavily  as  she  spoke,  for  thus, 
accidentally,  was  touched  the  weakest  chord 
of  my  heart. 

"And  better  still."  resumed  she,  "they 
are  the  links  that  unite  us.  to  the  past — that 
bind  the  heart  of  manhood  to  infancy — 
that  can  bring  down  pride  and  haughtiness 
— and  call  forth  guileless  affection  and 
childlike  faith." 

"They    are    happy,"    said    I,    musing. 


"  who  can  mingle  such  early  memories 
with  the  present." 

"And  who  cannot?"  interrupted  she, 
rapidly  ;  "who  has  not  felt  the  love  of  pa- 
rents—the halo  of  a  home  ?  Old  as  I  am, 
even  I  can  recall  the  little  walks  I  trod  in 
infancy,  and  the  hand  that  used  to  guide 
me.  I  can  bring  up  the  very  tones  of  that 
voice  which  vibrated  on  my  hear!  as  they 
spoke  my  name.  But  how  much  happier 
they  to  whom  these  memories  are  linked 
with  tokens  of  present  affection,  and  who, 
in  their  manhood's  joys,  can  feel  a  father's 
or  a  mother's  love." 

"  I  was  left  an  orphan  when  a  mere 
child,"  said  I,  as  though  the  observation 
had  been  specially  addressed  to  me. 

"  But  you  have  brothers — sisters,  per- 
haps." 

I  shook  my  head.  "A  brother,  indeed, 
but  we  have  never  met  since  we  were  chil- 
dren." 

"And  yet  your  country  has  not  suffered 
the  dreadful  convulsion  of  ours  ;  no  social 
wreck  has  scattered  those  who  once  lived  in 
close  affection  together.  It  is  sad  when 
such  ties  are  broken.  You  came  early  to 
France,  I  think  you  told  me  ?  " 

"Yes,  madame.  When  a  mere  child  my 
heart  conceived  a  kind  of  devotion  to  the 
Emperor  ;  his  fame,  his  great  exploits, 
seeming  something  more  than  human,  filled 
every  thought  of  my  brain,  and  to  be  a  sol- 
dier, Ms  soldier,  was  the  limit  of  my  ambi- 
tion. I  fancied,  too,  that  the  cause  he  as- 
serted was  that  of  freedom — that  liberty, 
universal  liberty,  was  the  watchword  that 
led  to  victory." 

"And  you  have  discovered  your  error," 
interrupted  she.  "  Alas  !  it  were  better  to 
have  followed  the  illusion  ;  a  faith  once 
shaken  leaves  an  unsettled  spirit,  and  with 
such  there  is  little  energy." 

"And  less  of  hope,"  said  I,  desponding- 

"Not  so,  if  there  be  youth.  Come,  you 
must  tell  me  your  story.  It  is  from  no 
mere  curiosity  I  ask  you,  but  that  I  have 
seen  much  of  the  world,  and  am  better  able 
than  you  to  offer  counsel  and  advice.  I 
have  remarked,  for  some  time  past,  that  you 
appear  to  have  no  accpiaintance  in  Paris — 
no  friend.  Let  me  be  such.  If  the  confi- 
dence have  no  other  result,  it  will  relieve 
your  heart  of  some  portion  of  its  burden  ; 
besides,  the  others  here  will  learn  to  regard 
you  with  less  distrust." 

"  And  is  such  their  feeling  toward  me?  " 

"  Forgive  me  ;  I  did  not  exactly  use  the 

word  I  sought  for,  but   now   that    I  have 

ventured  so  far,  I  may  as  well  confess  that 

you  are  an  object  of  the  greatest  interest  in 


664: 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


their  eyes — nor  can  they  divest  themselves 
.  of  the  impression  that  some  deep-laid  plot 
had  Led  you  hither." 

"Had  1  known  this  before — " 

"  You  had  left  us.  I  guessed  as  much. 
I  have  remarked  it  in  your  character  al- 
ready, that  a  morbid  dread  of  being  sus- 
pected is  ever  uppermost  in  your  thoughts, 
and  accounted  for  it  by  supposing  that  you 
might  have  been  thrown  at  too  early  an  age 
into  life  ;  but  you  must  not  feel  angry  with 
us  here.  As  for  me,  1  have  no  merit  in  my 
right  appreciation  of  you — Monsieur  Rubi- 
chon  told  me  how  you  met — a  mere  acci- 
dent, at  the  bureau  of  the  prefet." 

"  It  was  so,  nor  have  I  been  able  to  di- 
vine why  he  addressed  himself  to  me,  nor 
what  circumstance  could  have  led  him  to 
believe  my  sentiments  in  accordance  with 
those  of  his  guests." 

"  Simple  enough  the  reason.  He  heard 
from  your  own  lips  you  were  a  stranger 
without  any  acquaintance  in  Paris.  The 
police,  for  a  time,  have  been  somewhat 
frequent  in  their  visits  here,  when  the, ex- 
clusively royalist  feature  of  the  Pension  ex- 
cited some  dissatisfaction.  To  overcome 
the  impression,  M.  Rubichon  determined 
to  wait  each  day  at  the  bureau  of  the  pre- 
fet, and  solicit,  at  hazard,  among  the  per- 
sons there,  to  patronize  his  house.  We  all 
here  consented  to  the  plan,  feeling  its  ne- 
cessity. Our  good  fortune  sent  us  you. 
Still,  you  must  not  be  surprised  if  long 
sorrows  and  much  suffering  have  engen- 
dered suspicion,  nor  that  the  old  followers 
of  a  king  look  distrustfully  on  the  soldier 
of" — she  hesitated  and  blushed  slightly — 
then  added,  in  a  low  voice,  "of  the  Em- 
peror." The  word  seemed  to  have  cost  a 
pang  in  its  utterance,  for  she  did  not  speak 
for  several  minutes  after. 

"And  these  gentlemen  —  am  I  to  con- 
clude that  they  cherish  disaffection  to  the 
present  government,  or  harbor  a  hope  of 
its  downfall  ?  "  Whether  some  accidental 
expression  of  disdain  escaped  me  as  I  said 
this,  I  cannot  say,  but  Madame  de  Langeac 
quickly  replied, 

"They  are  good  Frenchmen,  sir,  and 
loyal  gentlemen  ;  what  they  hope  must  be 
a  matter  for  their  own  hearts," 

"I  entreat  your  pardon,  madame,  if  I 
have  said  one  syllable  which  could  reflect 
upon  their  motives." 

"I  forgive  you  readily,"  said  she,  smil- 
ing courteously  ;  "he  who  has  worn  a  sabre 
so  long  may  well  deem  its  influence  all- 
powerful  ;  but  believe  me,  young  man, 
there  is  that  within  the  heart  of  a  nation 
against  which  mere  force  is  nothing;  op- 
posed to  it,   armed    squadrons   and   dense 


ranks  are  powerless.  Devotion  to  a  sover- 
eign, whose  claim  comes  hallowed  by  a  long 
line  of  king's,  is  a  faith  to  which  religion 
lends  its  sanction,  and  tradition  its  hope. 
Look  on  these  very  persons  here;  see,  has 
adversity  chilled  their  affection,  or  poverty 
damped  their  ardor?  You  know  them  not, 
but  I  will  tell  you  who  they  are.  There 
at  the  lire,  that  venerable  old  man  with 
the  high,  bold  forehead,  he  is  Monsieur  de 
riessis — Count  Plessis  de  Riancourt.  His 
grandfather  entertained  Louis  XIV.  and 
his  suite  within  his  chateau;  he  himself 
was  grand  falconer  to  the  king  ;  and  .what 
is  he  now  ?  I  shame  to  speak  it — a  fencing- 
master  at  an  humble  school  of  the  Fau- 
bourg. And  the  other  opposite  to  him — 
he  is  stooping  to  pick  something  from  the 
floor — I  myself  saw  him  kneel  at  the  levee 
of  his  majesty,  and  beheld  the  king  assist 
him  to  rise,  as  he  said,  '  Monsieur  de  Mau- 
repas,  I  would  make  you  a  duke,  but  that 
no  title  could  be  so  dear  to  a  Maurcpas  as 
that  his  ancestors  have  borne  for  six  hun- 
dred years.'  And  he,  whose  signature  was 
but  inferior  to  the  royal  command,  copies 
pleadings  of  a  lawyer  to  earn  his  support. 
And  that  tall  man  yonder,  who  has  just 
risen  from  the  table,  neither  years  nor 
poverty  have  erased  the  stamp  of  nobility 
from  his  graceful  figure — Count  Belix  d'An- 
celot,  Captain  of  the  Gardes  du  Corps,  the 
same  who  was  left  for  dead  on  the  stairs  at 
Versailles,  pierced  by  eleven  wounds  ;  he 
gives  lessons  in  drawing,  two  leagues  from 
this,  at  the  other  extremity  of  Paris.  You 
ask  me  if  they  hope — what  else  than  hope 
— what  other  comforter  could  make  such 
men  as  these  live  on  in  want  and  indigence, 
declining  every  proffer  of  advancement,  re- 
fusing every,  temptation  that  should  warp 
their  allegiance?  I  have  read  of  great 
deeds  of  your  Emperor — I  have  heard  traits 
of  heroism  of  his  generals,  compared  to 
which  the  famed  actions  of  the  Crusaders 
paled  away — but  tell  me  if  you  think  that 
all  the  glory  ever  won  by  gallant  soldier, 
tried  the  courage  or  tested  the  stout  heart 
like  the  long  struggle  of  such  men  as  these  ? 
And  here,  if  I  mistake  not,  comes  another, 
not  inferior  to  any."' 

As  she  spoke,  the  steps  of  a  caleche  at  the 
door  were  suddenly  lowered,  and  a  tall 
and  powerfully-built  man  stepped  lightly 
out.  In  an  instant  we  heard  his  footstep 
in  the  hall,  and  in  another  moment  the 
door  of  the  salon  opened,  and  M.  Ru- 
bichon announced  "Le  General  Count 
Burke." 

The  general  had  just  time  to  divest  him- 
self of  his  traveling  pelisse  as  he  entered, 
and  was   immediately  surrounded  by   the 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


565 


others,  who  welcomed  him  with  the  greatest 
enthusiasm. 

"Madame  la  Marquise  do  Langeac,"  said 
he,  approaching  the  old  lady,  as  she  sat  in 
the  recess  of  the  window,  and  lifted  her 
hand  to  his  lips,  "I  am  overjoyed  to  see 
you  in  such  health.  I  passed  three  days 
with  your  amiable  cousin,  Arnold  de  Ram- 
buteau  ;  who,  like  yourself,  enjoys  the  hap- 
piest temperament  and  the  most  gifted 
mind."' 

"  If  you  flatter  thus,  general,"  said  Ma- 
dame de  Langeac,  "my  young  friend  here 
will  scarcely  recognize  in  you  a  country- 
man— a  kinsman,  perhaps.  Let  me  present 
Mr.  Burke." 

The  general's  face  flushed,  and  his  eyes 
sparkled,  as  taking  my  hand  in  both  of  his 
own,  he  said, 

"  Are  you  indeed  from  Ireland  ?  Is  your 
name  Burke  ?  Alas  !  that  I  cannot  speak 
one  word  of  English  to  you.  I  left  my 
country  thirty-eight  years  since,  and  have 
never  revisited  it." 

The  general  overwhelmed  me  with  ques- 
tions— first,  about  my  family,  of  which  I 
could  tell  him  little  ;  and  then  of  my  own 
adventures,  at  which,  to  my  astonishment, 
he  never  evinced  "those  symptoms  of  dis- 
pleasure I  so  confidently  expected  from  an 
old  follower  of  the  Bourbons. 
•  This  he  continued  to  do,  as  he  ate  a  hur- 
ried meal  which  was  laid  out  for  him  in 
the  salon  ;  all  the  rest  standing  in  a  circle 
around,  and  pressing  hjm  with  questions  for 
this  friend  or  that  at  every  pause  he  made. 

"You  see,  gentlemen,"  cried  he,  as  I 
replied  to  some  inquiry  about  my  cam- 
paign, "this  is  an  instance  of  what  I  have 
so  often  spoken  to  you.  Here  is  a  youth 
who  leaves  his  country  solely  for  fighting 
sake— he  does  not  care  much  for  the  epau- 
lette, he  cares  less  for  the  cause.  Come, 
come,  don't  interrupt  me  ;  I  know  you  bet- 
ter than  you  know  yourself.  You  longed 
for  the  conflict,  and  the  struggle,  and  the 
victory  ;  and,  parbleu  !  we  may  say  as  we 
will,  but  you  could  have  scarcely  made  a 
better  selection  than  with  his  majesty,  Em- 
peror and  King  as  they  style  him." 

This  speech  met  with  a  sorry  reception 
from  the  bystanders  ;  and  in  the  dissatis- 
fied expression  of  their  faces,  a  less  confi- 
dent speaker  might  have  read  his  con- 
demnation ;  but  the  general  felt  not  this, 
or,  if  he  did,  he  effectually  concealed  it. 

"  You  have  not  inquired  for  Gustave  de 
Meisin,"  said  he,  looking  round  at  the 
circle. 

"You  have  not  seen  him,  surely  ?  " cried 
several  together;  "we  heard  he  was  at 
Vienna." 


"No,  parbleu  !  he  lives  about  a  league 
from  his  old  home — the  very  house  we 
spent  our  Christmas  at  eighteen  years  ago. 
They  have  made  a  barrack  of  his  chateau, 
and  thrown  his  park  into  a  royal  chasse; 
but  he  has  built  a  hut  on  the  river-side. 
and  walks  every  day  through  his  own 
ground,  which,  he  says,  he  never  saw  so 
well  stocked  for  many  a  year.  He  is  as 
happy  as  ever,  and  loves  to  look  out  on  the 
Seine  before  his  door,  when  the  bright 
stream  is  rippling  through  many  a  broad 
leaf — ay,  messieurs,  of  good  augury  too, 
the  lilies  of  France."  He  lifted  a  bumper 
to  his  lips  as  he  spoke,  and  drank  the  toast 
with  enthusiasm. 

This  sudden  return  to  loyalty,  so  boldly 
announced,  served  to  reinstate  him  in  their 
estimation  ;  and  once  again  all  their  former 
pleasure  at  his  appearance  came  back,  and 
again  the  questions  poured  in  from  every 
quarter. 

"And  the  abbe,"  said  one,  "  what  of 
him  ?     Has  he  made  up  Ins  mind  yet  ?" 

"To  be  sure  he  has,  and  changed  it  too, 
at  least  twice  every  twenty-four  hours.  He 
is  ever  full  of  confidence,  and  brimming 
with  hope,  when  the  wind  is  from  the 
eastward  ;  but  let  it  only  come  a  point 
west,  his  spirits  fall  at  once,  and  he  dreams 
of  frigates  and  gunboats,  and  the  hulks  in 
the  Thames  ;  and  though  they  offered  him 
a  cardinal's  hat,  he'd  not  venture  out  to 
sea." 

The  warning  looks  of  the  bystanders, 
and  even  some  signals  to  be  cautious,  here 
interrupted  the  speaker,  who  paused  for  a 
few  seconds,  and  then  fixed  his  eyes  on  me. 

"  I  have  no  fears,  gentlemen,  on  that 
score.  I  know  my  countrymen  well,  though 
I  have  lived  little  among -them.  My  name- 
sake here  may  like  the  service  of  the  Em- 
peror better  than  that  of  a  king — he  may 
prefer  the  glitter  of  the  eagle  to  the  war- 
cry  of  St.  Louis — but  he'll  never  betray  the 
private  conversations  nor  expose  the  opin- 
ions expressed  before  him  in  all  the  confi- 
dence of  social  intercourse.  We  are  speak- 
ing, Mr.  Burke,  of  an  abbe  who  is  about  to 
visit  Ireland,  and  whose  fears  of  the  Eng- 
lish cruisers  seem  little  reasonable  to  some 
of  my  friends  here,  though  you  can  explain, 
perhaps,  that  they  are  not  groundless.  I 
forgot — you  were  but  a  boy  when  you  cross- 
ed that  sea." 

"  But  he  will  go  at  last,"  said  Madame 
de  Langeac ;  "I  suppose  we  may  rely  on 
that." 

"  We  hope,"  said  the  General,  shrugging 
his  shoulders  with  an  air  of  doubt,  "be- 
cause, when  we  can  do  nothing  else,  we 
can  always  hope  ;  "  and  so  saying  he  arose 


666 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


from  the  table,  and  taking  a  courteous 
leave  of  each  person  in  turn,  pleading  the 
fatigue  of  his  journey,  he  retired  for  the 
night.  I  left  the  saloon  soon  after,  and 
went  to  my  room  full  of  all  I  had  heard, 
and  pondering  many  thoughts  about  the 
abbe  and  his  intended  voyage. 

I  spent  a  sleepless  night — thoughts  of 
home,  long  lost  in  the  excitement  of  my 
career,  came  flocking  to  my  brain,  and  a 
desire  to  revisit  my  country,  stronger,  per- 
haps, because  undefined  in  its  object,  made 
me  restless  and  feverish.  It  was  with  de- 
light I  perceived  the  day  dawning,  and 
dressing  myself  hastily,  I  descended  into 
the  garden.  To  my  surprise,  I  found  Gen- 
eral Burke  already  there.  He  was  saunter- 
ing along  slowly  by  himself,  and  seemed 
wrapped  in  meditation.  The  noise  of  my 
approach  startled  him,  and  lie  looked 
up. 

"Ah!  my  countryman — so  early  astir," 
said  he,  saluting  me  courteously.  "Is  this 
a  habit  of  yours  ?" 

"  No,  sir.  I  cannot  claim  the  merit  of 
such  wakefulness  ;  but  last  night  I  never 
closed  my  eyes.  A  few  words  you  dropped 
in  conversation  in  the  drawing-room  kept 
possession  of  my  heart,  and  even  yet  I  can- 
not expel  them." 

"I  saw  it  at  the  time  I  spoke,"  replied 
the  General,  with  a  keen,  quick  glance. 
"You  changed  color  twice  as  I  mentioned 
the  Abbe  Gernon — do  you  know  him  ?  " 

"No,  sir.  It  was  his  intended  journey, 
not  himself,  for  which  I  felt  interested." 

"  You  wo'.dd  wish  to  accompany  him, 
perhaps.  Well,  the  matter  is  not  impos- 
sible; but,  as  time  presses,  and  we  have. 
little  leisure  for  mysteries,  tell  me  frankly 
why  are  you  here  ?" 

In  few  words,  and  without  a  comment 
on  any  portion  of  my  conduct,  I  told  him 
the  principal  circumstances  of  my  life,  down 
to  the  decisive  moment  of  my  leaving  the  ar- 
my. "After  that  step,"  said  I,  "feeling 
that  no  career  can  open  to  me  here,  I  wish 
to  regain  my  own  country." 

"You  are  right,"  said  the  General,  slowly. 
"  It  is  your  only  course  now.  The  venture 
is  not  without  risk,  less  from  the  English 
cruisers  than  the  French,  for  the  abbe  is 
well  known  in  England,  and  Ireland  too  ; 
but  his  royalist  character  would  find  slight 
favor  with  Fouche.  You  are  willing  to 
run  the  risk,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"lam." 

"And  to  travel  as  the  abbe's  servant,  at 
least  to  Falaise  ? — there  the  disguise  will 
end." 

"Perfectly  so." 

"And  for  this  service,  are  you  aiso  ready 


to  render  us  one  in  return  ?"  said  he,  peer- 
ing ai  me  beneath  his  eyelashes. 

"  If  it  involve  the  good  faith  I  once  swore 
to  preserve  toward  the  Emperor  Napoleon, 

1  refuse  it  at  once.  On  such  a  condition  I 
cannot  accept  your  aid." 

"And  does  your  heart  still  linger  where 
your  pride  has  been  so  insulted  ?" 

"  It  does,  it  does — to  be  his  soldier  once 
more,  I  would  submit  to  everything  but  dis- 
honor." 

"In  that  case,"  said  he,  smiling  good-na- 
turedly, "my  conscience  is  a  clear  one; 
and  I  may  forward  your  escape  with  the 
satisfying  reflection  that  I  have  diminished 
the  enemies  of  his  Majesty  Louis  XVIII.  by 
one  most  inveterate  follower  of  Napoleon. 
I  shall  ask  no  conditions  of  you.  When  are 
you  readv  ?'" 

"To-day— now." 

"  Let  me  see — to-morrow  will  be  the  8th 
— to-morrow  will  do.  I  will  write  about  it 
at  once.  Meanwhile,  it  is  as  well  you 
should  not  drop  any  hint  of  your  intended 
departure,  except  to  Madame  de  Langeac, 
whose  secrecy  maybe  relied  on." 

"May  I  ask,'*  said  I,  "if  you  run  any 
risk  in  thus  befriending  me  ?  It  is  an  office, 
believe  me,  of  little  promise." 

"  None  whatever.  Rarely  a  month  passes 
over  without  some  one  or  other  leaving  this 
for  England.  The  intercourse  between 
Rome  and  Ireland  is  uninterrupted,  and  has 
been  so  during  the  hottest  period  of  the  war." 

"This  seems  most  unaccountable  to  me 
— I  cannot  understand  it." 

"  There  is  a  key  to  the  mystery,  however," 
said  he,  smiling.  "  The  English  govern- 
ment have  confidence  in  the  peaceful  efforts 
of  the  priesthood  as  regards  Ireland,  and 
permit  them  tomold  unlimited  intercourse 
with  the  Holy  See,  which  fears  France  and 
the  spirit  of  her  Emperor.  The  Bourbons 
look  to  the  Church  as  the  last  hope  of  the 
restoration.  It  is  in  the  Catholic  religion 
of  this  country,  and  its  traditions,  that 
monarchy  has  its  root.  Sap  one,  and  you 
undermine  the  other.  Legitimacy  is  a  holy 
relic — like  any  other,  the  priests  are  the 
guardians  of  it ;  and  as  for  the  present  ruler 
of  France,  he  trusts  in  the  spirit  of  the 
Church  to  increase  its  converts,  and  believes 
that  Ireland  is  ripening  to  revolt  through 
the  agency  of  the  priests.  Fouche  alone  is 
not  deceived;  Between  him  and  the  Church 
the  war*  is  to  the  knife  ;  and  but  for  him 
the  high  seas  would  be  more  open  than  the 
road  to  Strasbourg — at  least  to  all  with  a 
shaven  crown  and  a  silk  frock.  Here,  then, 
is  the  simple  explanation  of  what  seemed  so 
difficult  ;  and  I  believe  you  will  find  it  the 
true  one." 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OUES." 


56? 


"  But  two  out  of  the  three  parties  must 
be  deceived,''  said  I. 

"Perhaps  all  three  arc,"  replied  he, 
smiling  sarcastically.  "  There  are  some,  at 
least,  who  deem  the  return  of  the  rightful 
sovereign  is  more  to  be  hoped  from  the 
sabre  than  the  crozier,  and  think  (hat  Rome 
never  was  true  except  to  Pome.  As  to  your 
journey,  however,  its  only  difficulty  or 
danger  is  the  transit  through  France — once 
at  the  coast,  and  all  is  safe.  Your  passport 
shall  bo  made  out  as  a  retired  sous-officier 
returning  to  his  home.  You  will  take'Mar- 
bceuf  in  the  route,  and  I  will  give  you  the 
necessary  directions  for  discovering  the 
ablx'." 

"Is  it  not  possible,"  said  I,  "that  h& 
may  feel  no  inclination  to  incumber  him- 
self with  a  fellow-traveler,  and  particularly 
one  a  stranger  to  him  ?'"' 

"  Have  no  fear  on  that  head.  Your 
presence,  on  the  contrary,  will  give  him 
courage,  and  we  must  let  him  suppose  you 
accompany  him  at  our  suggestion." 

"Not  with  any  implied  knowledge,  or 
any  connection  with  your  views,  however," 
said  I.  "  This  is  well  understood  between 
us  ?  " 

"  Perfectly  so.  And  now  meet  me  here 
this  evening,  after  coffee,  and  I  will  give 
you  your  final  instructions.  Adieu,  for 
the  present." 

He  waved  his  hand  and  left  me.  Then, 
after  walking  a  few  paces,  turned  quickly 
round,  and  said, 

'•'You  will  remember,  a  blouse  and  knap- 
sack are  indispensable  for  your  equipment. 
Adieu." 


-    CHAPTER,  LXXV. 

AN  OLD   SAILOR  OF    "THE   EMPIRE." 

No  circumstance  of  any  interest  occurred 
on  my  journey  to  Marbceuf  ;  my  passport, 
made  out  in  my  own  name  as  a  sous-officier 
on  leave,  secured  me  against  any  interrup- 
tion or  delay  ;  and  on  the  third  evening  I 
reached  the  little  wayside  cabaret,  about  a 
league  beyond  the  town,  where  I  was  in- 
formed by  the  count  that  the  abbe  would 
await  me. 

To  my  surprise,  however,  I  discovered 
that  the  house  was  occupied  by  a  detach- 
ment of  the  "Marines  of  the  Guard,"  pro- 
ceeding from  Marbceuf  to  the  coast ;  with 
these,  assuming  the  "camaraderie"  of  the 
service,  I  soon  made  acquaintance,  and 
being  possessed  of  some  information  about 
the  army,  my  company  was  at  once  coveted 


by  the  sailors,  who  had  no  opportunity  of 
learning  the  events  of  tic  campaign. 

The  flurried  manner  ami  the  over-solicit- 
ous desire  of  the  landlord  io  please,  did  not 
escape  me ;  and  taking  the  lir.-t  opportunity 
thai  offered,  1  followed  him  into  his  room, 
and  dosed  the  door  behind  me. 

"  Has  he  arrived  ?"  said  I,  assuming  at 
once  the  tone  of  one  with  whom  there  Deed 
be  no  secrecy. 

"Ha,  you  are  the  captain,  then  ;  and  I 
was  right,"  said  he,  not  replying  to  my 
question,  but  showing  that  he  was  aware 
who  I  was.  But  in  an  instant  he  resumed  : 
"  Alas  !  no,  sir  ;  the  orders  to  have  quarters 
ready  for  ten  men  reached  me  yesterday  :  and 
though  I  told  his  messenger  that  he  might 
come  in  safety,  the  marines  never  noticing 
any  traveler,  he  has  evidently  been  afraid  to 
venture.  This  is  the  10th,  on  the  12th  the 
vessel  is  to  be  off  the  coast ;  after  that  it 
will  be  too  late." 

"  But  he  may  come  yet." 

The  man  shook  his  head  and  sighed,  then 
muttered  half  aloud,  "It  was  a  foolish 
choice  to  take  a  coward  for  a  hazardous 
enterprise.  The  Count  de  Chambord  has 
been  here  twice  to-day  to  see  him,  but  in 
vain." 

"  Where  is  he,  then  ;  at  what  distance 
from  here  ?  " 

"  No  one  knows  ;  it  must  be  some  leagues 
away,  however,  for  his  messenger  seems 
tired  and  weary  when  he  comes,  and.  never 
returns  the  same  day." 

"Is  it  not  possible  he  may  have  pushed 
on  to  the  coast,  finding  this  place  oc- 
cupied ?  " 

"Ah,  sir,  it  is  plain  you  know  him  not ; 
he  has  no  daring  like  this,  and  would  never 
seek  a  new  path  if  the  old  were  closed 
against  him  ;  but,  after  all,  it  would  be 
useless  here." 

"How  so?" 

"  The  letters  have  not  come  }ret,  and 
without  them  he  could  not  leave  the  coast. 
Meanwhile,  be  cautious  ;  take  care  lest 
your  absence  .should  be  remarked  by  the 
men;  return  to  them  now,  and  if  anything 
occur,  I  will  make  a  signal  for  you." 

The  landlord's  advice  was  well  timed,  for 
I  found  that  the  party  were  already  becom- 
ing impatient  at  my  "delay,  and  wondering 
what  had  caused  it. 

"They  say,  comrade,"  said  a  short-set, 
dark-featured  Breton,  whose  black  beard 
and  moustache  left  little  vesl  ige  of  a  human 
face  visible — "  they  say  that  the  cavalry  of 
the  Guard  give  themselves  airs  with  us 
marines,  and  that  our  company  is  not  good 
enough  for  them  ;  is  this  the  case  ?" 

"It  is  the  first  time  I  have  heard  the  re- 


568 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS, 


mark,"  replied  I,  "and  I  hope  it  may  be 
the  last;  with  us  of  the  Eighth,  I  know 
such  a  feeling  never  existed,  and  yet  Ave 
thought  ourselves  not  inferior  to  our  neigh- 
bors/' 

"  Then  why  did  you  leave  us  just  now  ?  " 
grumbled  out  two  or  three  in  a  breath. 

"  You  shall  know  that  presently,"  said  I, 
smiling;  at  the  same  time  I  arose  and 
opened  the  door  :  "  You  may  bring  in  the 
Burgundy  now,  Master  Joseph  ;  Ave  are  all 
ready  for  it." 

A  hearty  cheer  Avelcomed  this  speech,  and 
many  a  rude  hand  was  stretched  forth  to 
grasp  mine  ;  at  the  same  instant  the  host, 
accurately  divining  the  necessity  of  the 
moment,  entered,  with  a  basket  containing 
six  bottles,  whose  eobwebbed  necks  and 
crusted  surface  bespoke  the  choicest  bin  of 
his  cellar. 

"Macon!  gentlemen,"  said  he,  drawing 
the  cork  of  a  flask  Avith  all  the  steadiness  of 
hand  of  one  accustomed  to  treat  Burgundy 
properly. 

"  Ah,  parbleu!  a  generous  grape,  too," 
said  the  short  sailor,  who  spoke  first,  as  he 
drained  his  glass  and  refilled  it.  "AUons, 
comrades,  '  The  Emperor  ! ' " 

"The  Emperor  !  "  repeated  each  voice  in 
turn,  even  to  the  poor  landlord,  Avhose  cau- 
tion was  stronger  than  his  loyalty. 

"  The  Emperor,  and  may  Heaven  pre- 
serve him  ! "  said  the  dark-whiskered  felloAV. 

"The  Emperor,  and  may  Heaven  forgive 
him  !  "  said  the  host,  who  this  time  uttered 
the  true  sentiments  of  his  heart,  without 
knowing  it. 

"Forgive  him!"  roared  three  or  four 
together — "  forgive  him  what  ?  " 

"For  not  making  thee  an  admiral  of  the 
fleet,"  said  the  landlord,  slapping  the  stout 
sailor  familiarly  on  the  shoulder. 

A  burst  of  rude  laughter  acknoAvledged 
the  success  of  this  speech,  and  by  common 
consent  the  host  was  elected  one  of  the 
company.  As  the  Avine  began  to  Avork  upon 
the  party,  the  dark  felloAV,  whose  grade  of 
sergeant  was  merely  marked  by  a  gold  cord 
on  li is  cuff,  and  which  had  hitherto  escaped 
my  notice,  assumed  the  leadership,  and  re- 
counted some  stories  of  his  life,  which, 
treating  of  a  service  so  novel  to  me  in 
all  its  details,  Avere  sufficiently  interest- 
ing, though  the  materials  themselves  were 
slight  and  unimportant. 

One  feature  struck  me  in  particular 
through  all  he  said,  and  gave  a  character 
most  distinctive  to  the  service  he  belonged 
to,  and  totally  unlike  what  I  had  observed 
among  the  soldiers  of  the  army.  With 
them  the  armies  of  all  Europe  were  ac- 
counted the  enemy — the  Austrian,  (he  Rus- 


sian, the  liaiian,  and  the  Prussian,  Avere 
the  foes  he  bad  met  and  conquered  in  so 
many  fields  of  glory.  The  pride  he  felt  in 
his  tritfmphs  was  a  great  but  natural  senti- 
ment, involving,  however,  no  hatred  of  his 
enemy,  nor  any  desire  to  disparage  his 
courage  or  bis  skill.  With  the  sailor  of  the 
Empire,  however,  there  was  but  one  an- 
tagonist, and  that  one  he  detested  with  his 
whole  heart— England  was  a  word  which 
stirred  his  passion  from  its  very-inmost  re- 
cesses, and  made  his  blood  boil  with  intense 
excitement.  The  gay  insolence  of  the  sol- 
dier, treating  his  conquest  as  a  thing  of 
ease  and  certainty,  bad  no  resemblance  to 
the  collected  and  impassioned  hate  of  the 
•sailor,  who  felt  that  h is  victories  were  not 
such  as  proclaimed  his  superiority  by  evi- 
dence incontestable.  The  victories  on  land 
contrasted,  too,  so  strongly  Avith  even  what 
were  claimed  as  such  at  sea,  that  the  sailors 
could  not  control  their  detestation  of  those 
who  had  robbed  them,  of  a  share  of  their 
country's  praise,  and  made  the  hazardous 
career  they  folloAved  one  of  mere  secondary 
interest  in  the  eyes  of  France. 

A  more  perfect  representative  of  this 
mingled  jealousy  and  hate  could  not  bo 
found  than  Paul  Dupont,  the  sous-officier 
in  command  of  this  little  party.  He  was  a 
Breton,  and  carried  the  ruling  trait  of  his 
province  into  the  most  minute  feature  01 
his  conduct.  Bold,  blunt,  courageous, 
open-hearted,  and  fearless,  but  passionate 
to  the  verge  of  madness  when  tlnvarted, 
and  unforgiving  in  his  vengeance  when  in- 
sulted, he  only  believed  in  Brittany,  and 
for  the  rest  of  France  he  cai-ed  as  little  as 
for  Switzerland.  His  Avhole  life  had  been 
spent  at  sea,  until  about  two  years  previous, 
when  from  boatswain  he  Avas  promoted  to 
be  a  sergeant  of  the  "  Marines  of  the  Guard  " 
— a  step  he  regretted  every  day,  and  was 
now  actually  petitioning  to  be  restored  to 
his  old  grade,  eA'en  at  the  sacrifice  of  pay 
and  rank — such  was  the  impression  a  short 
life  ashore  had  made  on  him,  and  so  com- 
plete his  contempt  for  any  service  save  that 
in  blue  water.  ■ 

"Come,  old  ' sea-Avolf '  " — such  was  the 
sobriquet  Paul  went  by  among  his  com- 
rades— "  thou  art  dull  to-night,"  said  an 
old  sailor  Avith  a  head  as  white  as  snow  ; 
"I  haven't  seen  thee  so  Ioav  of  heart  this 
many  a  day." 

"  What  Avonder,  comrade,  if  I  am  so  ?"  re- 
torted Paul,  gruffly.  "This  shore  sendee 
is  bad  enough,  not  to  make  it  worse  by  lis- 
tening to  such  yarns  as  these  we  have  been 
bearing,  about  platoons  and  squadrons — of 
charges  here  and  counter-marches  there. 
Ventre  cVenfcr  !  that  may  amuse  those  Avho 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


569 


never  saw  a  broadside  or  a  boarding,  but  as 
for  me,  look  ye,  comrade  ! " — here  lie  ad- 
dressed himself  to  me,  laying  his  great 
iiand  upon  my  shoulder  as  lie  spoke — "  until 
ye  can  bring  your  mounted  lines  to  charge 
up  to  the  mouth  of  a  battery,  vomiting 
grape  and  round-shot,  ye  must  not  tell 
your  stories  before  old  sailors — ay,  though 
they  be  only  Marines  of  the  Guard,  some  of 
them." 

"Don't*  be  angry  with  old  Paul,  com- 
rade," said  the  man  who  spoke  before,  "he 
does  not  mean  to  offend  you." 

"  Who  told  you  that  ?  "  said  Paul,  stern- 
ly ;  "why  can't  you  sheer  off,  and  leave 
me  to  lay  alongside  of  my  enemy  my  own 
way  ?  " 

"  You  must  not  call  me  by  such  a  name," 
said  I ;  "  we  all  serve  the  Emperor,  and 
have  no  enemies  save  his.  Come,  Paul,  let 
us  have  a  cup  of  wine  together." 

"Agreed — an  ye  promise  to  tell  no  more 
tales  of  dragoons  and  hussars,  and  such 
like  cattle,  I'll. drink  with  you.  Bah  !  it's 
not  Christianlike  to  fight  a-horseback — it's 
only  fit  for  Turks  and  Arabs  ;  but  for  men 
that  are  made  to  stand  fast  on  their  own 
stout  timbers,  they  have  no  need  of  four- 
footed  beasts  to  carry  them  against  an  ene- 
my. Here's  my  hand,  comrade,  is  i  t  a  bar- 
gain ?  " 

"  Willingly,"  said  I,  laughing  ;  "  if  you 
consent,  instead,  to  tell  us  some  of  your 
own  adventures,  I  promise  faithfully  not  to 
trouble  you  with  one  of  mine. " 

"That's  like  a  man,"  said  Paul,  evident- 
ly flattered  by  the  successful  assertion  of 
his  own  superiority;  "and  now,  if  the 
host  will  let  us  have  some  more  wine,  I'm 
ready." 

"Ay,  ay,"  cried  several  together,  "re- 
plenish the  basket  once  more." 

"This  time,  gentlemen,  you  must  per- 
mit me  to  treat  you.  It  is  not  every  day 
such  guests  assemble  under  my  poor  roof,"- 
said  the  landlord,  bowing  courteously, 
"nor  am  I  likely  soon  to  jxiss  so  pleasant 
an  evening." 

"That's  as  you  please  it,"  said  Paul  care- 
lessly ;  "if  you  are  too  good  a  fellow  to 
care  for  money,  there's  three  JNfaps  for  the 
poor  of  the  village  ;  mayhap  there  may  bo 
an  old  sailor  amongst  them." 

A  murmur  of  satisfaction  at  their  com- 
rade's conduct  ran  around  the  circle,  as  the 
host  disappeared  for  the  fresh  supply  of 
wine.  In  an  instant  he  was  back  again, 
carrying  a  second  basket  under  his  arm, 
which  he  placed  carefully  on  the  table,  say- 
ing, "  Pomard  of  '87,  gentlemen — I  wish 
it  were  Chambertin  for  your  sakes." 

"  T6te  bleue  !  that's  what  I  call  wine," 


said  one,  smacking  his  lips,  as  he  tasted  the 
generous  liquor. 

"Yes,"  said  Paul,  "that's  better  than 
drinking  the  pink  water  they  serve  us  out 
on  service.  Morbleu !  how  we'd  light,  if 
they'd  tap  an  aume  of  that  when  they  beat 
to  quarters." 

The  bottle  now  passed  freely  from  hand 
to  hand;  and  Paul,  leaning  back  in  his 
chair,  crossed  his  arms  before  him,  as.  with 
his  eyes  half  closed,  he  seemed  to  be  occu- 
pied in  remembering  some  long-passed  oc- 
currence. 

"Ay,  comrades,"  said  he,  after  a  long 
pause,  "  the  landlord  was  not  so  far  out  as 
you  may  think  him.  I  might  have  been, 
if  not  an  admiral  of  the  fleet,  at  least  a 
captain  or  a  commodore  by  this  time,  if*J 
only  wished  it,  but  I  wouldn't.*' 

"You  wouldn't,  Paul?"  cried  three  or 
four  in  a  breath.  "How  do  you  mean, 
you  wouldn't  ?  Is  it  that  you  didn't  like 
it  ?  " 

"  That's  it  ;  I  didn't  like  it,"  replied  he, 
glaring  around  him  as  he  spoke,  with  a  look 
which  had  repressed  any  tendency  to  mirth, 
if  such  an  inclination  existed  in  the  party. 
"  Mayhap  there  are  some  here  don't  believe 
this,"  he  continued,  as  if  anxious  to  extort 
a  contradiction  from  any  one  bold  enough 
to  adventure  it  ;  but  none  seemed  disposed 
to  meet  his  wishes.  He  resumed.  "The 
way  of  it  was  this  : 

"  We  sailed  from  Brest,  seven  sail  and 
two  frigates,  on  a  cruise,  in  the  Messidoi 
of  the  year  '13 — it  was  the  time  of  the  Re- 
public then — and  our  orders  were  to  keep 
together,  and  afford  protection  to  all  vessel 
of  our  flag,  and  wherever  an  opportunity 
offered  to  engage  the  enemy,  to  do  so,  if 
we  had  a  fair  chance  of  success.  There 
was  one  heavy  sailer  of  the  fleet,  the  '  Old 
Torch,'  and  by  good  luck  I  was  in  her  ;  and 
so,  before  we  were  eight  days  out,  it  came 
on  to  blow  a  hurricane  from  the  north-east, 
with  a  great  sea,  that  threatened  to  poop 
us  at  every  stroke.  How  the  others 
weathered  it  I  can't  say.  We  rolled  so 
badly  that  we  carried  away  our  mainmast 
and  half  our  bulwarks,  and  when  day  broke 
we  could  see  nothing  of  the  rest.  We  were 
lying  floundering  there  in  the  trough  of 
the  sea,  with  nothing  left  but  a  storm-jib 
to  keep  her  head  straight,  and  all  hands  at 
the  pumps  ;  for  in  working  she  had  opened 
her  old  seams,  and  leaked  like  a  basket. 
Well,  we  cut  away  the  wreck  of  the  mast, 
and  we  threw  twelve  of  our  guns  over — 
short  eighteens  they-  were,  and  all  heavy 
metal — and  that  lightened  her  a  bit,  and 
we  began  to  have  hopes  of  weathering  out 
the  gale,  when  the  word  was  passed  of  a 


570 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


strange  sail  to  windward.  We  looked,  and 
there;  saw  ;i  great  vessel  looming,  as  large 
as  a  three-decker,  coming  down  toward  as 
with  close-reefed  topsails,  but  going 
through  the  water  like  a  sword-fish.  At 
first  we  hoped  it  was  one  of  our  own,  but 
that  hope  did  not  last  long,  for  as  she 
neared  us  we  saw  floating  from  the  peak 
that  confounded  flag  that  never  boded  us 
good  fortune.  She  was  an  English  eighty- 
gun  i  ship  ;  the  'Blanche'  they  called' her. 
Ventrebleu !  I  didn't  know  how  they  ever 
got  so  handsome  a  model  ;  but  I  learned 
after  she  was  a  French  ship,  and  built  at 
Toulon  ;  for  you  see,  comrades,  they  never- 
had  such  craft  as  ours.  Well,  down  they 
came,  as  if  they  were  about  to  come  right 
oVer  us,  and  never  once  made  a  signal,  nor 
took  any  notice  of  us  whatever,  till  quite 
close,  when  a  fellow  from  the  poop-deck 
shouted  out  in  French — bad  enough  it  was, 
too — desiring  us  to  keep  close  till  the  sea 
went  down  a  bit,  and  then  to  send  a  boat  to 
them,  '  Snci'isti!  there  was  no  more  about 
it  than  that,  and  they  made  a  prize  of  us 
at  once.  But  our  captain  was  not  one  of 
that  mold,  and  he  answered  by  beating  to 
quarters  ;  and  just  as  the  'Blanche'  swept 
past,  up  flew  our  ports,  and  eight  carron- 
ades  threw  in  a  fire  of  grape  along  her 
deck  that  made  them  dance  to  the  music. 
Liable  !  the  fun  was  short,  though.  Round 
she  came  in  stays  like  a  pinnace,  down 
helm,  and  passed  us  again,  when,  as  if  her 
sides  slit  open,  forty  guns  flashed  forth  their 
flame,  and  sent  us  a  broadside  that  made 
the. craft  tremble  again,  and  left  our  deck 
one  mass  of  dead  and  wounded.'  There 
was  no  help  for  it  now.  The  clear  water 
came  gushing  up  the  hatchways  from  many 
a  shot-hole,  the  craft  was  settling  fast,  and 
so  we  hauled  down  the  ensign  and  made 
the  signal  of  distress.  The  answer  was, 
4  Keep  her  afloat  if  you  can.'  But,  faith, 
our  fellows  didn't  care  much  to  save  a  prize 
for  the  English,  and  they  wouldn't  lend  a 
hand  to  the  pumps,  but  crossed  their  arms 
and  stood  still,  waiting  for  her  to  go  down  ; 
when  what  did  we  see  but  two  boats 
lowered  from  the  '  Blanche '  and  dropped 
into  the  sea,  which  was  then  running 
mountains  high.  Feu  (Penfer  !  they  don't 
know  where  there  is  danger  and  where  not, 
these  English,  and  tliat's  the  reason  they 
seem  so  brave  !  For  a  mmute  or  two  we 
thought  they  were  swamped,  for  they  were 
hidden  entirely  ;  then  Ave  saw  them  on  the 
top  of  a  wave,  balancing,  as  it  might  be, 
and  again  they  disappeared,  and  the  huge 
dark  swell  seemed  to  have  swallowed  them  ; 
and  so  we  strained  eyes  after  them,  just  as 
if  our  own  danger  was  not  as  great   as 


theirs,  when  suddenly  a  fearful  cry  for'ed 
was  heard,  and  a  voice  called  out,  '  She  is 
sinking  by  the  head!'  And  so  it  was.  A 
crash  dike  falling  timber  was  heard  above 
the  storm  and  the  sea,  and  the  'Torch' 
rolled  heavily  from  side  to  side,  and  then 
plunged  bowsprit  down,  and  the  boding 
surf  met  over  her.  There  was  a  wild  yell 
— some  said  it  was  a  cheer — I  thought:  it 
like  a  drowning  cry,  and  I  remember  no 
more — that  is,  I  have  a  kind -of  horrid 
dreamy  remembrance  of  buffeting  in  the 
waves,  and  shaking  olf  a  hand  that  grasped 
me  by  the  shoulder,  and  then  feeling  the 
water  gathering  over  me  as  I  grew  more 
and  more  exhausted.  But  the  end  of  it  was, 
I  came  to  my  senses  some  hours  after,  and 
found  myself  in  a  hammock  on  board  tbe 
'Blanche,'  with  twenty-eight  of  my  com- 
rades. All  the  rest,  above  two  hundred 
and  fifty,  had  perished,  the  captain  and  the 
officers  among  them. 

"The  'Blanche'  was  under  orders  for 
St.  Domingo,  and  was  in  no  way  anxious 
to  have  our  company  ;  and  before  a  week 
was  over  we  were  drafted  into  a  small  sloop 
of  war,  carrying  eight  guns,  and  called 
the  'Fawn.'  She  was  bound  for  England 
with  dispatches  from  Nelson,  one  of  their 
English  admirals  they're  always  talking 
about.  This  little  craft  could  sail  like  the 
wind,  but  she  was  crowded  with  sick  and 
invalided  men  from  some  foreign  station, 
and  there  was  not  a  place  the  size  of  a  dog- 
kennel  on  board  of  her  that  was  not  occu- 
pied. As  for  us,  we  were  only  prisoners, 
and  you  may  think  they  weren't  very  par- 
ticular about  our  comforts  ;  and  so  they 
ranged  us  along  under  the  bulwarks  to 
leeward,  for  they  wouldn't  spoil  her  sailing 
trim  by  suffering  us  to  sit  to  windward; 
and  there  we  were,  drenched  to  the  skin, 
and  shivering  from  day  to  dark. 

"Four  days  went  over  in  this  way, 
.when,  on  the  fifth,  about  eight  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  the  look-out  announced 
several  strange  sail  in  sight,  and  the  same 
instant  we  perceived  the  officers  setting  the 
glasses  to  observe  them.  We  could  remark 
that  the  sight  did  not  seem  to  please  them 
much  ;  but  more  we  knew  not,  for  we  were 
not  allowed  to  stand  up,  nor  look  over  the 
bulwarks.  The  lieutenant  of  the  watch 
called  up  the  commander,  and  when  he 
came  on  deck  ho  ordered  the  men  to  cram 
on  more  sail,  and  hold  her  head  a  point  or 
so  off  the  wind  ;  and,  as  soon  as  it  was 
done,  the  rushing  noise  at  the  cutwater 
told  the  speed  she  was  making  through  the 
sea.  It  was  a  fine  day,  with  a  fresh  breeze, 
and  a  nice  curl  from  the  water;  and  it  was 
a   handsome   thing  to   see   how   the  sloop 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


571 


bent  to  the  gale  and  rose  again,  her  canvas 
white  as  snow  and  steady  as  a  board  ;  and 
we  soon  knew,  from  the  manner  of  the 
officers  and  the  anxious  looks  they'd  give 
to  leeward  from  time  to  time,  that  another 
vessel  was  in  chase  of  the  'Fawn.'  Not  a 
man  stirred  on  the  deck  save  the  lieutenant 
of  the  watch,  who  walked  the  quarter- 
deck with  his  glass  in  his  hand,  now  lifting 
it  to  his  eye,  and  now  throwing  a  glance 
aloft  to  see  how  the  sails  were  drawing. 

"'  She's  gaining  on  us,  sir,' cried  the 
boatswain,  as  he  went  aloft,  to  the  lieuten- 
ant.     '  Shall  we  ease  her  off  a  little  more  ? ' 

"  'No,  no,'  said  he,  impatiently.  '  She's 
coming  hand-over-hand  now.  Clear  the 
deck,  and  prepare  for  action.' 

"My  heart  jumped  to  my  throat  as  I 
heard  the  words  ;  and  waiting  until  the 
lieutenant's  back  was  turned,  I  stole  my 
eyes  above  the  bulwark,  and  beheld  the  tall 
masts  and  taper  spars  of  a  frigate,  all  cov- 
ered with  canvas,  about  two  miles  astern  of 
us.  She  was  a  good-sized  craft,  apparently 
of  thirty-eight  guns ;  but  what  I  liked 
best  about  her  was  the  broad  tri-color  that 
fluttered  from  her  mast-head.  Every  curl 
that  floated  on  the  breeze  whispered  liberty 
to  my  heart. 

"  'You  know  her,'  said  the  lieutenant, 
laying  his  hand  on  my  shoulder,  before  I 
was  aware  he  was  behind  me.  ■  '  What  is  she? ' 

"  '  Lend  me  your  glass,  lieutenant,  and 
perhaps  I  can  tell  you,'  said  I ;  and  with 
that  he  gave  the  telescope  into  my  hand, 
and  leaned  on  the  bulwark  beside  me. 
'  Ha  ! '  said  I.  as  soon  as  I  caught  the  side 
of  her  hull,  'I  ought  to  know  her  well.  I 
sailed  in  her  for  two  years  and  a  half. 
She's  the  "Creole,"  of  thirty-eight  guns, 
the  fastest  frigate  in  our  navy.  She  has 
six  carronades  on  her  quarter-deck,  and 
never  goes  to  sea  without  three  hundred  j 
and  twenty  men.' 

"  'If  she  had  three  tiers  of  them  we'd  ! 
not  flinch  from  her,'  said  a  voice  behind.  I 
It  was  the  commander  himself,  who  was ! 
now  in  full  uniform,  and  wore  a  belt  with 
four  pistols  stuck  around  it. 

"There  is  no  use  in  denying  it,  the 
English  prepared  for  action  like  brave  fel- 
lows, and  soon  cleared  the  deck  of  every- 
thing in  the  way  of  the  guns  ;  but  what 
use  was  it  ?  In  less  than  an  hour  the 
'  Creole '  worked  to  windward,  and  opened  a 
fire  from  her  long  guns,  to  which  the  other 
could  make  no  reply.  There  they  came 
plumping  in,  some  into  the  hull,  some 
splintering  through  the  bulwarks,  and  some 
crashing  away  through  the  rigging,  and  all 
the  crew  could  do  was  to  repair  the  mischief 
the  distant  cannonade  was  making. 


|  •  "'It's  a  cowardly  way  your  countrymen 
come  into  action  after  all,'  said  tbe  lieuten- 
ant, as  he  watched  the  shut  hopping  and 
skipping  along  the  water  to  leeward.  '  With 
four  times  our  strength,  they  don't  bear 
down  and  engage  us.' 

"  As  he  spoke,  a  shot  cut  the  peak  hal- 
yards in  two,  and  down  came  the  spar  with 
a  crash,  carrying  with  it  in  its  fall  that 
ensign  they're  so  proud  of.  It  was  all 
we  could  do,  prisoners  as  we  were,  not  to 
cheer  at  this  ;  but  the  faces  around  us  did 
not  encourage  us  to  such  a  course,  and  we 
sat  silently  watching  them. 

"The  moment  the  accident  happened, 
twenty  stout  fellows,  were  clambering  up 
the  rigging,  and  as  many  more  engaged  to 
repair  the  mischief  ;  but  suddenly  the  com- 
mander whispered  something  to  the  lieu- 
tenant;  the  men  were  called  down  again, 
and  the  craft  was  let  fall  off  the  wind, 
trailing  the  sails  and  the  tangled  rigging 
over  her  sides. 

"  'And  the  prisoners,  sir,'  said  the  lieu- 
tenant, at  the  close  of  something  I  could 
not  hear. 

"  '  Send  them  below,'  was  the  short  reply. 
"  '  We  cannot,  the  space  between  docks 
is  crowded  to  suffocation,  but  here  she 
comes.'  And,  as  he  spoke,  the  frigate  came 
bearing  down  in  gallant  style,  her  whole 
deck  swarming  with  men. 

"'Down,  men,  down,'  whispered  the 
lieutenant,  and  he  dropped  on  his  knee 
behind  the  bulwark,  and  motioned  to  the 
rest  to  kneel  ;  and  I  now  perceived  that 
every  sailor  had  a  drawn  cutlass  in  his 
hand,  and  pistols  in  his  belt,  as  he  lay 
crouching  on  the  deck.  The  frigate  was 
now  so  close,  I  could  hear  the  commands  of 
the  officers  on  the  quarter-deck,  and  the 
word  'Bus  les  branles' — the  signal  to 
board — passed  from  mouth  to  mouth.  The 
next  instant,  she  closed  on  us,  and  showed 
her  tall  sides  towering  above  us. 

"'Now,  men,'  cried  the  commander  of 
the  'Fawn,'  'now  forward  !  All  who  care 
to  live,  there's  your  ground,'  said  he, 
pointing  to  the  frigate.  '  Such  as  like  to 
die  on  a  British  deck,  remain  with  me.' 
The  boarders  sprang  up  the  side  of  the 
'  Creole  '  before  the  crew  could  fasten  the 
grapples.  Tonnerre  de  Dien  !  what  a  mo- 
ment it  was  !  The  fellows  cheered  like 
madmen,  as  they  poured  into  certain  death  ; 
the  lieutenant  himself  was  one  of  the  first 
on  board,  and  fell  back  the  same  instant, 
dead  upon  his  own  deck.  The  struggle 
was  a  bloody,  but  brief  one  ;  for  a  few 
minutes  the  English  pressed  our  men  back, 
and  gained  a  footing  on  the  quarter-deck, 
but  a  murdereus  fire  from  the  tops  cut  them 


572 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


down  in  numbers,  and  they  now  fought, 
not  for  victory,  but  vengeance. 

"  '  Now,  captain,  now,'  screamed  a  youth, 
in  a  lieutenant's  uniform,  but  all  covered 
with  blood,  and  his  face  gashed  with  a 
cutlass-wound,  as  he  leaned  over  the  bul- 
wark of  the  '  Creole,'  and  waved  his  cap  in 
the  air. 

"  'I'm  ready,'  replied  the  English  com- 
mander, and  sprang  down  the  main  hatch- 
way as  he  spoke,  with  a  pistol  in  his  hand. 
At  the  same  instant,  a  fearful  cry  burst  forth 
from  the  prisoners  ;  for,  with  the  instinct 
of  despair,  they  guessed  his  desperate  resolve 
was  to  blow  up  the  vessel.     We  were  tied, 
wrist  to  wrist,  and  the  rope  run  through  the 
blocks  at  our  back  in  such  a  way  as  to  pre- 
vent our  moving  more  than  a  few  inches  ; 
but  what  will  not  the  fear  of  a  dreadful 
deatli  do  ?     With  one  unanimous  effort  we 
tore  the  lashings  in  pieces,  and  got  free.     I 
was  myself  the  first  at  liberty,  and  sprang 
toward     the    'Creole.'     Alas!     they    had 
divined  the  awful  doom  awaiting   us,  and 
were  endeavoring   to    shove  off    at  once. 
Already  there  were  some  ten  or  twelve  feet 
between  the  vessels.     I  rushed  forward  to 
gain  the  bowsprit,  a  vague  hope  of  escape 
suggesting  the  effort.     As  I   did  so,   my 
eyes  caught  sight  of   a  book,  which,  with 
his   hat,   the   captain   threw  from  him  as 
he   hastened  below.     I  stooped  down  and 
put  it   in   my  bosom — why,   I   know  not. 
Life,  and  life  only,  was  my  thought  at  that 
moment.     Then,  with  lightning's  speed,  I 
ran  along  the  deck,  and  out  on  the  bow- 
sprit.    At   this   instant,    the    frigate   shot 
ahead  of  us ;  I  made  a  leap,  the  last  effort 
of   despair,   and   caught  the  flue   of    the 
anchor — a  friendly  hand  threw  me  a  rope, 
and  dragged  me  on  the  deck  ;  as  I  gained 
it,  a  thunder-clap,  louder  than  ten  broad- 
sides, broke  forth,  and  the  frigate  fell  over 
on  one  side  as  if  sinking  ;  while  over  her 
rigging  and  her  masts  flew  spars  and  timbers, 
blazing  and  burning,   amid  a  black  smoke 
that  filled  the  air  on  every  side.     Every  man 
about  dropped  wounded  or  terrified  on  the 
deck,  where  they  lay  amid  the  falling  fire  of 
the  wreck,  and  the  terrible  carnage.    I  wiped 
the  blood  from  my  eyes,  for  I  was  bleeding 
profusely  from  a  splinter  cut,  and  looked 
about  me.     The  deck  was  a  mass  of  dead 
and  dying ;  their  piercing  cries  and  groans 
were  maddening  to  hear.    The  frigate,  how- 
ever, was  flying  fast  through  the  water — 
the  '  Fawn '  was  gone  ! " 


her 


up 


?"    said 


"Tcie  lime  I    he  blew 
three  or  four  in  a  breath. 

Paul  nodded,  and  resumed  :  "Ay,  com- 
rades, and  the  balf-dozen  of  her  crew  who 
stood  alive  on  our  cpiarter-deck  cheered  the 


explosion  as  if  il  was  a  victory  ;  and  one  fel- 
low, as  lie  lay  bleeding  on  the  planks,  cried 
out,  '  Sec.  there  ;  look,  if  our  gay  flag  is 
not  high  above  yours,  as  it  always  will 
be!'  and  that  lime  be  was  right,  for  the 
spar  that  bore  if  was  nigh  the.  clouds. 
Will,  to  finish  my  story,  in  eight,  days  we 
made  Brest,  and  all  of  us  who  were  wound- 
ed were  sent  on  shore  to  the  naval  hospital. 
A  sorry  set  we  were — most  of  us  disabled 
by  splinter-wounds,  and  many  obliged  to 
suffer  amputation.  I  was  about  again  soon- 
er than  the  rest,  and  was  sent  for  one  morn- 
ing on  board  the  admiral's  ship,  to  give 
some  account  of  the  '.Fawn,'  of  which  they 
never  could  hear  enough  ;  and  when  I  came 
to  that  part  where  I  made  my  escape,  they 
all  began  a-laughing  at  my  stopping  to  take 
up  a  book  at  such  a  moment.  And  one  of 
the  lieutenants  said,  jokingly, 

"  '  Well,  Paul,  I  suppose  it  was  the  En- 
glishman's breviary  saved  your  life,  wasn't 
it?' 

'-''No,  lieutenant,'  said  I;  'but  you'd 
be  mighty  proud  this  day  to  have  that  same 
breviary  in  your  possession.' 

"  'How  so,  good  fellow  ?'  said  the  ad- 
miral himself,  old  Villaret  Joyeuse,  who 
always  talked  like  one  of  ourselves.  '  What 
is  this  book,  then,  that  is  so  precious  ?' 

"  'I'll  show  it  you,  sir,  because  I've  no 
fear  of  foul"  play  at  your  hands,  but  there's 
not  another  man  of  the  fleet  I'd  let  see  it ; ' 
and  with  that  I  took  it  out  of  my  breast, 
where  I  always  carried  it,  and  gave  it  to 
him.  Ah  !  if  you'd  seen  his  face  how  it 
flushed  up  as  he  turned  over  the  leaves,  and 
how  his  eyes  sparkled  with  fire. 

"  '  Paul  Dupont,'  said  he,  '  are  you  aware 
what  this  is  ? ' 

"  'Yes,  admiral,'  said  I,  'as  well  as  }7ou 
are. ' 

"  '  Your  fortune's  made,  then,  my  brave 
fellow,'  said  he,  slapping  me  on  the  shoul- 
der. '  The  finest  frigate  in  the  English 
navy  is  a  less  prize  than  this.' 

"Mi lie  tonnerres  !  how  the  others  stared  at 
me  then  ;  but  I  stood  without  minding  how 
they  looked,  for  I  was  the  same  Paul  Du- 
pont they  laughed  at  a  few  minutes  before. 

"Meanwhile  the  admiral  laid  down  the 
book  on  the  table,  and  covered  it  with  his 
cocked-hat,  and  then  taking  a  pen,  he 
wrote  some  lines  on  a  piece  of  paper  before 
him. 

"  'Will  that  do,  Paul  ?'  said  he,  hand- 
ing it  toward  me.  It  was  just  this  :  '  Bu- 
reau of  the  Marine,  Brest.  Pay  Paul  Du- 
pont the  sum  of  ten  thousand  francs,  for 
service  rendered  to  his  Imperial  Majesty, 
and  attested  in  a  note  by  me,  Villaret  Joy- 
euse, Admiral  of  France.' 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


573 


"  I  could  scarce  read  the  lines,  com- 
rades, for  pure  passion.  'Ten  thousand 
francs  ! '  said  I  at  last,  as  soon  as  I  found 
breath  -'ten  thousand  francs  !' 

"  'What !'  cried  the  admiral,  'not  con- 
tent ?  Well,  then,  thou  shalt  have  more  ; 
but  1  have  rarely  met  one  of  your  cloth 
with  so  mercenary  a  spirit.' 

"  'Stay,  admiral,'  said  I,  as  I  saw  him 
about  to'write  a  new  order  ;  '  we  both  are 
in  error  here — you  mistake  me,  and  I  you. 
An  old  admiral  of  the  fleet  ought  to  know 
his  sailors  better  than  to  think  that  money 
is  their  highest  reward  ;  it  never  was  so  at 
least  with  Paul  Dupont.  Let  me  have  my 
book  again.' 

"  '  Come,  come,  Paul — I  believe  I  under- 
stand you  now,'  said  he;  'your  warrant 
shall  be  made  out  this  day.' 

"  'No,  admiral,  it's  too  late,'  said  I ;  'if 
that  had  come  first,  and  from  yourself,  all 
well — but  it  looks  like  a  bargain  now,  and 
I'll  not  have  promotion  that  way.' 

"'Mort  du  citable  /'  said  he,  stamping 
with  passion,  'but  they're  all  the  same. 
These  Bretons  are  as  brutal  in  their  obsti- 
nacy as  their  own  cattle.' 

"  '  You  say  true,  admiral,'  said  I ;  'but, 
if  they're  obstinate  in  wrong,  they're  reso- 
lute in  right.  You  are  a  Breton  gentle- 
man, give  me  back  my  book.' 

"'Take  it,'  said  he,  flinging  it  at  me, 
'and  let  me  never  see  your  face  again?"' 
and  with  that  he  left  the  cabin,  and  banged 
the  door  after  him  in  a  rage.  And  so,  I 
went  my  way,  comrades,  back  to  my  ship, 
and  served  for  many  a  long  year  after,  car- 
rying that  book  always  in  my  breast,  and 
thinking  to  myself,  '  Well,  what  if  thou 
art  only  a  boatswain,  Paul,  thou  hast 
wherewithal  in  thy  keeping  to  make  thee  a 
commodore  any  day.'" 

"  And  what  can  it  be,  then,  this  book  ?  " 
said  the  party,  in  a  breath. 

"You  shall  see,"  said  Paul,  solemnly; 
"for,  though  I  have  never  shown  it  since, 
nor  have  I  ever  told  the  story  before,  here 
it  is."  With  these  words  he  drew  from  his 
bosom  a  small  square  volume,  bound  in 
vellum,  and  fastened  by  a  clasp,  lettered 
on  the  cover,  "Signals  of  the  Channel 
Fleet." 

This  was  the  secret  of  honest  Paul's  life, 
and  as  he  turned  over  the  leaves,  he  ex- 
patiated with  eloquent  delight  on  the  vari- 
ous British  emblems  which  were  represented 
there,  in  all  their  brilliant  coloring. 

"  That  double  streak  of  yellow  on  the 
black  is  to  make  all  sail,  comrades,"  said 
he.  "  Whenever  they- see  us  standing  out 
to  sea  you  may  remark  that  signal  flying." 

"  And  what  is  this  large  blue  flag  here, 


with  all  the  colored  bars  across  it  ?"  said 
one. 

"Ay,"  cried  another,  "they're  very  fond 
of  that  ensign.     What  can  ii  be?" 

"  Close  act  ion,"' growled  out  Paul,  sullen- 
ly, who  didn't'  fancy  even  the  reflective 
praise  this  question  implied  to  the  hated 
rival. 

"  Sacrebleu! "  said  a  third,  "they've  no 
other  to  announce  a  victory.  Look  here, 
it  is  the  same  flag  for  both." 

Paul  shut  up  the  book  at  this,  with  a 
muttered  curse,  which  might  have  been 
intended  either  for  his  comrades,  or  the 
English,  or  both  together,  and  the  whole 
party  became  suddenly  silent. 

It  was  now  that  the  landlord's  tact  became 
conspicuous  ;  for  instead  of  any  condoling 
expressions  on  what  might  have  been  deem- 
ed the  unsuccessful  result  of  Paul's  career, 
he  affected  to  think  that  the  brave  seaman 
was  more  to  be  envied  for  the  possession  of 
that  volume  than  if  he  walked  the  deck  an 
admiral  of  France. 

This  flattery,  aided  by  a  fresh  supply  of 
Burgundy,  had  full  success ;  and  from 
story-telling  the  party  fell  to  singing — the 
songs  being  only  a  more  boastful  detail  of 
their  prowess  at  sea  than  their  prose  narra- 
tives, and  even  here  Paul  maintained  his 
supremacy. 

Sleep,  however,  stronger  than  self-glori- 
fication and  pride,  fell  on  the  party  one  by 
one,  and  they  lay  down  at  last  on  the  tables 
and  benches,  and  slumbered  heavily. 


CHAPTER  LXXVI. 

A     MOONLIGHT     RECOGNITION. 

I  sat  on  my  bed  in  the  little  chamber 
allotted  me,  and  as  the  bright  moonlight 
streamed  along  the  floor,  and  lit  up  the 
wide  landscape  without,  I  hesitated  within 
mvself  whether  I  should  await  the  morn- 
ing, or  at  once  set  forth  on  my  way  to  the 
coast.  It  was  true,  the  abbe  had  not 
arrived,  and  without  him  I  knew  nothing 
of  the  vessel,  nor  where  she  lay,  much  less 
by  what  means  I  should  induce  the  crew  to 
receive  me  as  a  passenger  ;  but  my  heart 
was  fixed  on  gaining  the  coast ;  once  there, 
I  felt  that  the  sea  alone  rolled  between  me 
and  my  country,  and  I  had  little  doubt 
some  means  of  escape  would  present  itself. 

The  desire  to  return  to-  Ireland,  long 
stilled,  was  now  become  a  passion.  I 
thought  some  new  career  must  there  open 
for  me,  and  in  its  active  vicissitudes  I  should 
make  amends  for  the  wearisome  languor  of 


574 


CHARLES  LEVER 8   WORKS. 


my  late  life.  What  this  novel  path  \v;is  to 
he,  and  where  to  lead,  I  cannot,  say  ;  nor 
am  I  able  now,  in  looking  back,  to  guess 
by  what  sophistry  I  persuaded  myself  into 
this  belief.  It  was  the  last  ray  of  hope 
within  me,  however,  and  I  cherished  it  only 
the  more  fondly  for  its  very  uncertainty. 

As  I  sat  thus  deliberating  with  myself 
what  course  to  take,  the  door  was  cautiously 
opened,  and  the  landlord  entered. 

"lie  is  come,"  whispered  he;  "and, 
thank  Heaven!  not  too  late." 

''The  abbe  ?"  inquired  I. 

"No,  not  the  abbe,  but  the  Count  de 
Ohambord.  The  abbe  will  not  venture  ; 
but  it  matters  not,  if  you  will.  The  letters 
are  all  ready — the  sloop  is  off  the  coast — 
the  wind  is  fair — " 

"And  not  a  moment  to  be  lost,"  added 
a  deep,  low  voice,  as  the  figure  of  a  tall  man, 
wrapped  in  a  traveling  cloak,  darkened  the 
doorway.  "Leave  us,  Pierre — this  is  the 
gentleman,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  landlord.  "  Should 
you  need  a  light,  I'll  bring  one." 

"  Thank  you,  friend,  we  can  dispense 
with  any,  save  what  the  moon  affords 
us. 

As  the  door  closed  on  the  retiring  figure 
of  the  host,  the  stranger  took  his  place  be- 
side me  on  the  bed,  and  in  a  low  voice  thus 
began : 

"I  only  know,  sir,  that  you  have  the 
fall  confidence  of  one  of  my  stanchest  and 
best  friends,  who  tells  me  that  you  are 
willing  to  incur  great  risk,  provided  you 
gam  the  chance  of  reaching  your  native 
land.  That  chance— nay,  I  will  call  it 
that  certainty — lies  in  my  power  ;  and,  in 
return  for  the  assistance,  are  you  willing  to 
do  me  a  service  ?  " 

"  I  served  the  Emperor,  .sir  ;  ask  me  not 
anything  unworthy  of  one  who  wore  his 
epaulette.  Aught  else,  if  it  be  but  honor- 
able and  fair,  I'll  do." 

"I  have  no  leisure  for  casuistry,  nor  is 
it  my  humor,  sir,"  replied  he,  angrily. 
"  Neither  do  I  seek  any  wondrous  devotion 
at  your  hands.  The  service  is  any  easy  one 
— costs  nothing  at  the  present — involves 
nothing  for  the  future." 

"The  slight  value  you  place  upon  it  may 
detract  but  little  from  my  objection,"  said  1. 

"  Sacra  ciel !  "  exclaimed  he,  in  a  louder 
voice,  as  he  sprang  from  the  bed  and  clasp- 
ed his  hands  before  him.  "  Is  it  to  be  ever 
thus  ?  Is  every  step  we  take  to  be  marred 
by  some  unlooked-for  casualty  ?  Is  the 
stamp  of  fear  and  vacillation  to  be  on  every 
act  of  our  lives  ?  This  abbe,  the  creature 
we  have  made,  the  man  whose  fortune  is 
our  handiwork,  could  render  but  one  ser- 


vice to  our  cause,  and  he  fails  us  in  our 
need  ;  and  now,  you — " 

•'  Beware,  sir,  how  yon  speak  to  one  who 
has  never  been  accustomed  to  bear  his  name 
slightingly  used,  nor  bis  honor  impugned  ; 
with  your  cause,  whatever  it  lie,  1  have  no 
sympathy — remember  that,  and  remember, 
also,  we  are  strangers  to  each  other." 

"  No,  par  St.  Denis  !  that  are  we  not ! " 
said  he,  seizing  me  by  the  arm,  as  he  turn- 
ed his  bead  round,  and  stared  me  steadfast- 
ly m  the  face.  "  It  was  but  this  instant  I 
deemed  my  fortune  at  the  worst,  and  now 
I  find  myself  mistaken.  Do  you  know  me 
now  ?"  said  he,  throwing  off  his  traveling 
cap,  and  letting  his  cloak  fall  from  his 
shoijlders  to  the  ground. 
.  "  De  Beauvais!"  exclaimed  I,  thunder- 
struck at  the  sight. 

"  Yes,  sir,  the  same  De  Beauvais  whose 
fortunes  you  have  blighted — whose  honor 
you  have  tarnished.  Interrupt  me  not. 
The  mill  at  Holbrun  witnessed  the  latter— 
if  even  the  former  were  an  error — and  now 
we  meet  once  more." 

"  Not  as  enemies,  however — at  least  on 
my  side.  You  may  persist,  if  you  will,  in 
attributing  to  me  wrongs  I  never  inflicted. 
I  can  better  bear  the  imputation,  unjust 
though  it  be,  than  involve  myself  in  any 
quarrel  with  one  I  feel  no  anger  toward.  I 
was  in  hopes  a  few  hours  hence  might  have 
seen  me  on  my  way  from  France,  forever 
— but  here,  or  elsewhere,  I  will  not  reply 
to  your  enmity." 

De  Beauvais  made  no  reply  as  I  con- 
cluded, but  with  hisarms  crossed,  and  head 
bent  down,  seemed  lost  in  thought.  "And 
so,"  said  he,  at  length,  in  a  slow,  sad  voice, 
"you  have  not  found  the  service  of  the 
Usurper  as  full  of  promise  as  you  hoped — 
you  have  followed  his  banner  long  enough 
to  learn  how  mean  a  thing  even  ambition 
may  be,  and  how  miserably  selfish  is  the 
highest  aspiration  of  an  adventurer." 

"The  Emperor  was  my  good  master," 
said  I,  sternly.  "It  would  ill  become  me 
to  vent  my  disappointment  on  aught  save 
my  own  demerits." 

"I  have  seen  as  slight  deservmgs  bring 
a  high  reward,  notwithstanding,"  replied 
he — "  ay,  and  win  their  meed  of  praise 
from  lips  whose  eulogy  was  honor.  There 
was  a  service,  Burke — " 

"  Stay,  no  more  of  this  !  "  said  I.  "  You 
are  unjust  to  your  own  cause,  and  to  me,  if 
you  deem  that  the  hour  of  baffled  hopes  is 
that  in  which  I  could  see  its  justice.  You  are 
true  and  faithful  to  one  whose  fortunes  look 
darkly.  I  respect  the  fidelity,  while  I  will 
not  follow  its  dictates.  I  leave  the  path 
where  fame  and  riches  abound — -I  only  asK 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


575 


you  to  believe  that  I  do  so  with  honor.  Let 
us  part, 'then." 

"  Where  do  you  mean  to  go,  hence  ?  " 

"  I  know  not — a  prospect  of  escape  had 
led  me  hither — I  must  now  bethink  me  of 
some  other  course." 

"  Burke,  I  am  your  debtor  for  one  kind- 
ness, at  least,"  said  De  Beauvais,  after  a 
brief  pause.  "  You  saved  my  life,  at  the 
risk  of  your  own.  The  night  at  the  Chateau 
d'Ancre  should  never  be  forgotten  by  me — 
nor  had  it  been,  if  I  did  not  revenge  my 
own  disappointed  hopes,  in  not  seducing 
you  to  our  cause,  upon  yourself.  It  may  be 
that  I  wrong  you  in  everything  as  in  this." 

"  Believe  me,  that  you  do,  De  Beau- 
vais." 

"  Be  it  as  it  may,  I  am  your  debtor.  I 
came  here  to  night  to  meet  one  who  had 
pledged  himself  to  perform  a  service — he 
has  failed  in  his  promise — will  you  take  his 
place  ?  Tbe  same  means  of  escape  shall  be 
yours.  All  the  precautions  for  his  safety 
and  sure  conduct  shall  be  taken  in  your  be- 
half. 1  ask  no  pledge  for  the  honorable 
discharge  of  what  I  seek  at  your  hands,  save 
your  mere  assent." 

"  What  is  it  you  require  of  me  ?  " 

"  That  you  deliver  these  letters  to  their 
several  addresses — that  you  do  so  with  your 
own  hands— that  when  questioned,  as  you 
may  be,  on  the  state  of  France,  you  will 
not  answer  as  the  partisan  of  the  Usur- 
per." 

"I  understand  you — enough — I  refuse 
your  offer.  Your  zeal  for  the  cause  you 
serve  must  indeed  be  great,  when  it  blinds 
you  to  all  consideration  for  one  placed  as  I 
am." 

"It  has  made  me  forget  more,  sir — far 
more  than  that,  as  I  might  prove  to  you, 
were  I  to  tell  you  what  my  life  has  been  for 
two  years  past  ;  but  for  such  forgetfulness 
there  is  an  ample  recompense — a  glorious 
one — the  memory  of  our  king."  He  paused 
at  these  words,  and  in  his  tremulous  voice 
and  excited  gesture  I  could  read  the  passion 
that  worked  within  him.  "Come, then,  there 
shall  be  no  more  question  of  a  compact  be- 
tween us.  I  ask  no  conditions — I  seek  for 
no  benefits — you  shall  escaj^e.  Take  my 
horse — my  servant,  who  is  also  mounted, 
will  accompany  you  to  Beudron,  where  you 
will  find  fresh  horses  in  readiness.  This 
passport  will  prevent  all  interruption  or  de- 
lay ;  it  is  countersigned  by  Fouche  himself. 
At  Lisieux,  Avhich  you  will  reach  by  sun- 
set, you  can  leave  the  cattle,  and  the  boy  of 
the  cabaret  will  be  your  guide  to  the  Falaise 
de  Biville.  The  tide  will  ebb  at  eleven 
o'clock,  and  a  rocket  from  the  sloop  will  be 
your  signal  to  embark  ?  " 


"And  for  this  I  can  render  nothing  in 
return  ?  "  said  I,  sadly. 

"Yes.  11  may  be  that  in  your  own 
country  you  will  hear  the  followers  of  our 
king  scoffed  at  and  derided  -called  fools, 
or  fanatics,  perhaps  worse.  I  would  only 
ask  of  you  to  bear  witness  tbat  they  are  at 
least  ardent  in  the  cause  they  have  sworn 
to  uphold,  and  firm  to  the  faith  to  which 
they  have  pledged  themselves.  This  is  the 
only  service  you  can  render  us,  but  it  is  no 
mean  one.     And  now  farewell." 

"Farewell,  De  Beauvais;  but  ere  we 
separate  forever,  let  me  hear  from  your  lips 
that  you  bear  me  no  enmity  —  that  we  are 
friends,  as  we  used  to  be." 

"Here  is  my  hand.  I  care  not  if  you 
injured  me  once,  we  can  be  friends  now, 
for  we  are  little  likely  to  meet  again  as 
enemies.     Adieu!" 

While  De  Beauvais  left  the  room  to  order 
the. horses  to  be  in  readiness,  the  landlord 
entered  it,  and  seemed  to  busy  himself 
most  eagerly  in  preparing  my  knapsack  for 
the  road. 

"I  trust  you  will  be  many  a  mile  hence 
ere  the  day  breaks,"  said  he,  with  an  anxi- 
ety I  could  ill  comprehend,  but  which  at 
the  time  I  attributed  to  his  desire  for  the 
safety  of  one  intrusted  with  an  important 
mission.  "And  now,  here  come  the 
horses." 

A  moment  more,  and  I  was  seated  in  the 
saddle.  A  brief  word  at  parting  was  all 
De  Beauvais  spoke,  and  turned  away,  and 
the  minute  after  I  was  hurrying  onward 
toward  Beudron. 


CHAPTER    LXXVII. 

THE     "FALAISE     DE     BIVILLE." 

Everything  occurred  as  De  Beauvais 
had  predicted.  The  authorities  in  the  lit- 
tle villages  we  passed  glanced  at  my  pass- 
port, and  as  instantaneously  handed  it 
back,  and  we  journeyed  like  couriers  of  the 
Emperor,  without  halt  or  impediment. 

We  reached  Lisieux  early  in  the  evening, 
where,  having  dismissed  the  servant  and 
horses,  I  took  my  way  on  foot  toward  a 
small  fishing  village  called  La  Hupe,  where, 
at  a  certain  cabaret,  I  was  to  find  my  guide 
to  Biville. 

The  address  of  the  sailor  written  on  a 
card,  and  marked  with  a  peculiar  cipher 
by  De  Beauvais,  was  at  once  recognized  by 
the  old  Norman,  who  welcomed  me  with  a 
rude  but  kindly  hospitality. 

"  Thou  art  more  like  a  man  to  make  this 
venture  than  the  last  three  who  came  down 


76 


CHARLES  LEVEE'S    WORKS. 


here/'  said  he,  as  he  slowly  measured  me 
with  his  eye  from  head  to  foot.  "  These 
priests  they  sent  us  never  dared  even  to  look 
at  the  coast,  much  less  to  descend  the 
cliffs  ;  but  thou  hast  a  look  about  thee  of 
another  fashion.  And  now,  the  firsi  thing 
is  to  have  something  to  eat,  and  I  promise 
thee  a  goutte  of  brandy  will  not  be  amiss  to 
prepare  thee  for  what  is  before  thee." 

"Is  there,  then,  so  much  of  danger  in 
the  descent  ?  " 

"  Not  if  a  man's  head  be  steady  and  his 
hand  firm  ;  but  he  must  have  both,  and  a 
stout  heart  to  guide  them,  or  the  journey 
is  not  over  pleasant.  Art  thou  cool  enough 
m  time  of  peril  to  remember  what  has  been 
told  thee  for  thy  guidance  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  hope  I  can  promise  so  much." 

"Then  thou  art  all  safe;  so  eat  away, 
and  leave  the  rest  to  me." 

Although  the  sailor's  words  had  stimu- 
lated my  curiosity  in  the  highest  degree,  I 
repressed  every  semblance  of  the  feeling, 
and  ate  my  supper  with  a  well-feigned  ap- 
pearance of  easy  indifference,  while  he 
questioned  me  about  the  hopes  of  the  Bour- 
bon party  in  their  secret  machinations, 
with  a  searching  inquisitiveness  that  often 
nearly  baffled  all  my  ingenuity  in  reply. 

"Ah,  par  St.  Denis!"  said  he,  with  a 
deep  sigh,  "  I  see  well  thou  hast  small  hope 
now  ;  and,  in  truth,  I  feel  as  thou  dost. 
When  George  Cadoudal  and  his  brave  fel- 
lows failed,  where  are  we  to  look  -for  suc- 
cess ?  I  mind  well  the  night  he  supped 
here. " 

"Here,  said  you  ?" 

"Ay,  where  you  sit  now  —  on  the  same 
seat.  There  was  an  English  officer  with 
him.  He  wore  a  blue  uniform,  and  sat 
yonder,  beneath  that  fishing  net — the  others 
were  hid  along  the  shore." 

"  Was  it  here  they  landed,  then  ?" 

"Yes,  to  be  sure,  at  the  Falaise  ;  there 
is  not  another  spot  to  land  on  for  miles 
along  the  coast."     The  old  sailor  then  be- 
gan a  circumstantial  account  of  the  arrival  | 
of  George  and  his  accomplices  from  Eng- 
land, and  told  how  they  had,  one  by  one, 
scaled  the  cliffs  by  means  of  a  cord,  well 
known  in  these  parts,  called  the   "smug-: 
gler's  rope."     "Thou  shaft  'see   the   spot 
now,"  added  he,  "  for  there's  the  signal  yon- 
der."    He  pointed  as  he  spoke  to  an  old  j 
ruined  tower,  which  crowned  a  cliff  about  j 
half  a  mile  distant,  and  from  a  loophole  in 
which  I  could  see  a  branch  of  ivy  waving,  j 
as  though  moved  by  the  wind. 

"  And  what  may  that  mean  ?" 

"The  cutter  is  in  sight  ;  as  the  wind  is 
off-shore,  she'll  be  able  to  come  in  close  to- 
uight.     Indeed,  if  it  blew  from  the  west-  i 


ward,  she  dared  not  venture  nearer,  nor 
thou,  either,  go  down  to  meet  her.  So,  now 
let's  be  moving." 

Aboul  twenty  minutes' walking  brought 

us  to  the  old  signal-tower,  on  looking  from 
the  window  of  which  I  beheld  the  sea 
plashing  full  three  hundred  feet  beneath. 
The  dark  rocks,  fissured  by  time  and  weath- 
er, were  abrupt  as  a  wall,  and,  in  some 
places,  even  overhung  the  waves  that  rolled 
heavily  below.  Masses  of  tangled  sea-weed 
and  shells,  which  lay  in  the  crevices  of  the 
cliffs,  showed  where,  in  times  of  storm,  the 
wild  waters  were  thrown,  while  lower  down, 
amid  fragments  of  rocks,  the  heavy  beams 
and  planks  of  shipwrecked  vessels  surged 
with  every  motion  of  the  tide. 

"  You  cannot  see  the  cutter  now,"  said 
the  old  sailor.  "  The  setting  sun  leaves  a 
haze  over  the  sea;  but  in  a  few  minutes 
more  we  shall  see  her." 

"I  am  rather  looking  for  the  pathway 
down  this  bold  cliff,"  replied  I,  as  I  strained 
my  eyes  to  catch  something  like  a  way  to 
descend  by. 

"  Then  throw  thine  eyes  in  this  direc- 
tion," said  the  sailor,  as  he  pointed  straight 
down  beneath  the  window  of  the  tower. 
"  Seest  thou  that  chain  there  ?  Well,  fol- 
low it  a  little  further,  and  thou  may'st 
mark  a  piece  of  timber  jutting  from  the 
rock." 

"  Yes,  I  see  it  plainly." 

"  Well,  the  path  thou  askest  for  is  be- 
neath that  spar.  It  is  a  good  rope  of  stout 
hemp,  and  has  carried  the  weight  of  many 
a  brave  fellow  before  now." 

"  The  smuggler's  rope  ?  " 

"  The  same.  Art  afraid  to  venture,  now 
thou  seest  the  place  ?  " 

"  You'll  not  find  me  so,  friend.  I  have 
seen  danger  as  close  before  now,  and  did 
not  blink  it." 

"  Mark  me  well,  then,"  said  he,  laying 
his  hand  on  my  arm.  "  When  thou  readi- 
est that  rope,  thou  wilt  let  thyself  cautious- 
ly down  to  a  small  projecting  point  of 
rock — we  cannot  see  it  here,  but  thou  wilt 
soon  discern  it  in  the  descent.  The  rope 
from  this  goes  no  further,  for  that  spot  is 
nigh  sixty  fathom  below  us.  From  thence 
the  cliff  slopes  sharply  down  about  thirty 
or  forty  feet ;  here  thou  must  creep  cau- 
tiously, for  the  moss  is  dry  and  slippery  at 
this  season, -till  thou  nearest,  the  edge. 
Mark  me  well,  now  ;  near  the  edge  thou'lt 
find  a  large  stone  fast-rooted  in  the  ground, 
and  around  that  another  rope  is  fastened, 
by  which  thou  may'st  reach  the  bottom  of 
the  precipice.  There  is  but  one  place  of 
peril  in  the  whole." 

"  The  sloping  bank,  you  mean  ?  " 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


577 


oVYes;  that  bit  will  try  thy  nerve.  Ke- 
member,  if  thy  foot  slip,  there's  nothing  to 
stop  thy  fall  ;  the  cliff  is  rounded  over  the 
edge,  and  the  blue  sea  beats  two  hundred 
feet  below  it.  And  see  !  look  yonder,  far 
away  there — seest  thou  the  twinkling,  as  of 
a  small  star,  on  the  water  ?" 

"  The  cutter  will  throw  up  a  rocket,  will 
she  not  ?  " 

"A  rocket!"  repeated  he,  contemptu- 
ously ;  "that's  some  landsman's  story  thou 
hast  been  listening  to.  A  rocket  would 
bring  the  whole  fleet  of  boats  from  Treport 
on  her.  No,  no  ;  they  know  better  than 
that — the  faintest  glimmer  of  a  fishing- 
craft  is  all  they'll  dare  to  show  •  but  see 
how  steadily  it  burns  now— we  must  make 
the  signal  seaward." 

"Halloa,  Joseph  !  a  light  there." 

A  boy's  voice  answered  from  the  upper 
part  "of  the  tower — the  same  figure  who 
made  the  signal  toward  the  shore,  and 
whose  presence  there  I  had  altogether  for- 
gotten ;  and,  in  a  few  minutes,  a  red  glare 
on  the  rocks  below  showed  that  the  old 
man's  command  was  obeyed,  and  the  bea- 
con lighted. 

"Ah  !  they  see  it  already,"  cried  he, 
triumphantly,  pointing  seaward  ;  "they've 
extinguished  the  light  now,  but  will  show 
it  again,  from  time  to  time." 

"But  tell  me,  friend,  how  happens  it 
that  the  Marines  of  the  Guard,  who.  line 
this  coast,  do  not  perceive  these  sig- 
nals ?  " 

"And  who  tells  thee  that  they  do  not  ? 
They  may  be  looking,  as  we  are  now,  at 
that  same  craft,  and  watching  her  as  she 
beats  in  shore,  but  they  know  better  than 
to  betray  us.  Ay,  ma  foi,  the  'contre- 
bancle'  is  better  than  the  government. 
Enough  for  them,  if  they  catch  some  poor 
English  prisoner  now  and  then,  and  have 
him  shot — that  contents  the  Emperor,  as 
they  call  him — and  he  thinks  the  service 
all  that  is  brave  and  vigilant.  But  as  to 
us,  it  is  our  own  fault  if  we  fall  in  with 
them— it  would  need  the  rocket  you  spoke 
of  a  while  ago  to  shame  them  into  it. 
There,  look  again,  thou  seest  how  far  in 
shore  they've  made  already— the  cutter  is 
stealing  fast  along  the  water.  Answer  the 
signal,  Joseph. " 

The  boy  rep^nished  the  fire  with  some 
dry  wood,  and  it  blazed  up  brilliantly,  illu- 
minating the  gray  cliffs  and  dark  rocks,  on 
which  the  night  was  fast  falling,  but  leav- 
ing all  beyond  its  immediate  sphere  in 
deepest  blackness. 

"  I  see  not,  friend,  by  what  means  I  am 
to   discover  this   sloping   cliff,  much   less 
guide  my  way  along  it,"  said  I,  as  I  gazed 
vol.  i. — 37 


over  the'  precipice,  and  tried  to  penetrate, 
the  gloomy  abyss  below  me. 

"Thou'lt  have  the  moon  at  full  in  less 
than  two  hours,  and,  if  thou'H  take  a 
friend's  counsel,  thou'lt  have  ;i  sleep  ere 
that  time.  Lay  thee  down  yonder  on 
those  rushes  ;  1 11  awake  thee,  when  time 
comes  for  it." 

The  rather  that  I  resolved  to  obey  my 
old  guide  in  his  every  direction,  than  from 
any  desire  for  slumber  at  such  a  time,  I 
followed  his  advice,  and  threw  myself  full 
length  in  a  corner  of  the  tower.  In  the 
perfect  stillness  of  the  hour,  the  sea  alone 
was  heard,  surging  in  slow,  minute  peals 
through  many  a  deep  cavern  below,  and 
then,  gathering  for  fresh  efforts,  it  swelled 
and  beat  against  the  stern  rocks  in  passjon- 
ate  fury.  Such  sounds,  heard  in  the  silence 
of  the  night,  are  of  the  saddest ;  nor  was 
their  iniluence  lightened  by  j;he  low,  mon- 
otonous chant  of  the  old  sailor,  who,  seated 
in  a  corner,  began  to  repair  a  fishing-net, 
as  he  sang  to  himself  some  ditty  of  the  sea. 

How  strangely  came  the  thought  to  my 
mind,  that  all  the  peril  I  once  incurred  to 
reach  France,  the  hoped-for,  wished-for 
land,  I  should  again  brave,  to  escape  from 
its  shores.  Every  dream  of  boyish  ambition 
dissipated — every  high  hope  flown — I  was 
returning  to  my  country  as  poor  and  hum- 
ble as  I  left  it,  but  with  a  heart  shorn  of  all 
the  enthusiasm  that  gave  life  its  coloring. 
In  what  way  I  could  shape  my  future  ca- 
reer I  was  not  able  even  to  guess — a  vague 
leaning  to  some  of  England's  distant  colo- 
nies, some  new  world  beyond  the  seas,  be- 
ing all  my  imagination  could  frame  of  my 
destiny.  A  sudden  flash  of  light  illuminat- 
ing the  whole  interior  of  the  tower,  startled 
me  from  my  musings,  while  the  sailor  called 
out, 

"Come,  wake  up,  friend,  the  cutter  is 
standing  in  close,  and  a  signal  to  make 
haste  flying  from  her  mast." 

I  sprang  to  my  legs,  and  looked  out.  The 
sea  was  all  freckled  with  the  moonlight,  and 
the  little  craft  shone  like  silver,  as  the 
bright  beams  glanced  on  her  white  sails. 
The  tall  cliffs  alone  preserved  their  gloom, 
and  threw  a  dark  and  frowning  shadow 
over  the  waves  beneath  them. 

"  I  can  see  nothing  close  to  shore,"  said 
T,  pointing  to  the  dark  rocks  beneath  the 
window. 

"  Thou'lt  have  the  moon  presently,  she's 
rising  above  the  crest  of  the  hill,  and  then 
the  cliffs  are  clear  as  at  noonday.  So,  make 
haste ;  strap  on  that  knapsack  on  your 
shoulder — high  up,  mind — and  give  thine 
arms  full  play.  That's  it ;  now  fasten  thy 
shoes   over  all.     Thou   wert  not  about  to 


578 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


wear  them,  surely  ?"  said  he,  in  a  tone  al- 
most derisive.  "Take  care,  in  keeping 
from  the  face  of  the  rock,  not  to  sway  the 
rope — it  wears  the  cordage  ;  ami,  above  all, 
mind  avoII  when  thou  reach  the  cliff  below. 
Let  not  thy  hold  go  before  thou  hast  well 
felt  thy  footing-.  See,  the  moon  is  up  al- 
ready." 

As  he  spoke,  a  vast  sheet  of  yellow  light 
seemed  to  creep  over  the  whole  face  of  the 
precipice,  displaying  every  crag  and  pro- 
jection, and  making  every  spot  of  verdure 
or  rock  brilliant  in  color;  while,  many  a 
fathom  down  below,  the  heavy  waves  were 
seen,  now  rising  in  all  their  majestic  swell, 
now  pouring  hack  in  their  thousand  cata- 
racts from  every  fissure  in  the  precipice. 
So  terribly  distinct  did  each  object  show, 
so  dreadfully  was  each  distance  marked,  I 
felt  that  all  its  former  gloom  and  darkness 
were  not  one-half  so  thrilling  as  that  moon- 
light splendor. 

"  La  bonne  Marie  guard  thee  now  ! "  said 
the  old  seaman,  as  he  wrung  my  hand  in 
nis  strong  fingers.  "Be  steady,  and  cool 
of  head,  and  there  is  no  danger ;  and  look 
not  downward  till  thou  hast  got  accustomed 
to  the  cliff." 

As  he  said  this,  he  opened  a  small  door 
at  the  foot  of  the  tower  stairs,  and,  passing 
through  himself,  desired  me  to  follow.  I 
did  so,  and  now  found  myself  on  a  narrow 
ledge  of  rock,  directly  over  the  crag ;  be- 
lo.w,  at  about  ten  feet,  lay  the  chain,  to 
which  the  rope  was  attached,  and  to  reach 
it  was  not  the  least  perilous  part  of  the  un- 
dertaking. But  in  this  I  was  assisted  by 
the  old  man,  who,  passing  a  rope  through 
a  massive  iron  staple,  gradually  lowered 
me,  till  my  hand  came  opposite  the  chain. 

"Thou  hast  it  now,"  cried  he,'  as  he  saw 
me  disengage  one  hand  and  grasp  the  iron 
links  firmly. 

"  Yes— all  safe  !    Good-by,  friend — good- 

bP" 

""W'ait  yet,"  cried  he  again.     "Let  not 

go  the  cord  beiore  thou  thinkest  a  minute 
or  so.  I  have  known  more  than  one  change 
his  mind  when  he  felt  himself  where  thou 
art." 

"  Mine  is  made  up.     Farewell !  " 
"Stay,    stay!"     shouted     he,    rapidly. 
"See,  thou  hast  forgotten  this  purse  on 
the  rock  here.     Wait,  and  I  will  lower  it 
with  a  cord." 

By  this  time  I  had  .grasped  the  chain 
firmly  with  both  hands,  and  with  the  re- 
solve of  one  who  felt  life  depend  on  his 
own  firmness,  I  began  the  descent.  The 
old  man's  voice,  as  he  muttered  a  prayer 
for  my  safety,  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  till 
at  length  it  ceased  to  reach  my  ears  alto- 


gether. Then,  for  the  firsi  time,  did  my 
heart  sink  within  me.     The  words  of  one 

human  being,  faint  and  broken  by  distance, 
suggested  a  sense  of  sympathy,  which 
nerved  my  courage  and  braced  my  arm  ; 
but  the  dreary  silence  that  followed,  only 
broken  by  the  booming  of  the  sea  below, 
was  awful  beyond  measure. 

Hand  below  hand  I  went,  the  space  seem- 
ing never  to  lessen,  as  I  strained  my  eyes  to 
catch  the  clitl  where  the  first  rope  ended.. 
Time,  as  in  some  fearful  dream,  seemed 
protracted  to  years  long  :  'and  I  already  an- 
ticipated the  moment  when,  my  strength 
failing,  my  hands  would  relinquish  their 
hold,  and  I  should  be  dashed  upon  the 
dark  rocks  below.  .  The  very  seabirds, 
which  I  startled  in  my  descent,  wheeled 
round  my  head,  piercing  the  air  with  their 
shrill  cries,  and  as  if  impatient  for  a  prey. 
Above  my  head,  the  frowning  cliff  beetled 
darkly  ;  below,  a  depth  unfathomable  seem- 
ed to  stretch,  from  whose  black  abyss  arose 
the  wild  sounds  of  beating  waves.  More 
than  once,  too,  I  thought  that  -the  rope  had 
given  way  above,  and  that  I  was  actually 
falling  through  the  air,  and  held  my  breath 
in  horror  ;  then,  again,  the  idea  flashed 
upon  me  that  death  inevitable  awaited  me, 
and  I  fancied  in  the  singing  billows  I  could 
hear  the  wild  shouts  of  demons  rejoicing 
over  my  doom.  Through  all  these  mad- 
dening visions,  the  instinct  to  preserve  my 
life  held  its  strong  sway,  and  I  clutched  the 
knotted  rope  with  the  eager  grasp  of  a 
drowning  man,  when  suddenly  I  felt  my 
foot  strike  a  rock  beneath,  and  then  dis- 
covered I  was  on  the  cliff  of  which  the 
sailor  had  told  me. 

In  a  few  seconds  the  sense  of  security  im- 
parted a  tnrill  of  pleasure  to  my  heart,  and 
I  uttered  a  prayer  of  thankfulness  for  my 
safety  ;  but  the  fearful  conviction  of  greater 
danger  as  suddenly  succeeded.  The  rope  I 
had  so  long  trusted  terminated  here  ;  the 
end"  hung  listlessly  on  the  rock,  and  from 
thence  to  the  brow  of  the  cliff  nothing  re- 
mained to  afford  a  grip,  save  the  short 
moss  and  the  dried  ferns,  withered  with 
the  sun.  The  surface  of  this  frightful 
ledge  sloped  rapidly  toward  the  edge,  where 
was  the  rock  around  which  the  rope  was 
tied. 

Fatigued  by  my  previous  exertion,  I  sat 
down  on  that  moss-grown  cliff  and  gazed 
out  upon  the  sea,  along  which  the  cutter 
came,  proudly  dashing  the  spray  from  her 
bows,  and  bending  gracefully  with  every 
wave.  She  was  standing  fearlessly  in,  for 
the  wind  was  off  the  land,  and,  as  she 
swept  along,  I  could  have  fancied  her  di- 
rectly beneath  my  very  feet. 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


bl\} 


Arousing  myself  from  the  momentary 
stupor  of  my  faculties,  I  began  to  creep 
down  the   cliff  :    but  so  slippery  had  the 

verdure  become  by  heat,  that  I  could  bare- 
ly sustain  myself  by  grasping  the  very  earth 
with  my  fingers.  A  loud  " Holloa!" 
was  shouted  from  the  craft,  and  arose  in 
many  an  echo  around  me.  I  tried  to  re- 
ply, but  could  not.  A  second  cheer  sa- 
luted me,  but  I  did  not  endeavor  to  answer 
it.  The  moment  was  full  of  peril  ;  I  had 
come  to 'the  last  spot  which  offered  a  hold, 
and  below  me,  at  some  feet,  lay  the  rock, 
hanging,  as  it  were,  over  the  precipice.  It 
seemed  to  me  as  though  a  sea-bird's  weight 
might  have  sent  it  thundering  into  the  depth 
beneath.  The  moon  was  on  it,  audi  could 
see  the  rope  coiled  twice  around  it,  and 
knotted  carefully.  What  would  I  have  giv- 
en in  that  terrible  minute  for  one  tuft  of 
grass,  one  slender  bough,  even  enough  to 
have  sustained  my  weight  for  a  second  or 
two,  until  I  should  grasp  the  cord  !  But 
none  was  there.  A  louder  cry  from  the 
cutter  nowVang  in  my  ears,  and  the  dread- 
ful thought  of  destruction  now  flashed  on 
me.  I  fixed  my  eyes  on  the  rock  to  meas- 
ure the  place,  and  then,  turning  with  my 
face  toward  the  cliff,  I  suffered  myself  to 
slip  downward.  At  first  I  went  slowly, 
then  faster  and  faster.  At  last  my  legs 
passed  over  the  brow  of  the  precipice.  I 
was  falling  !  My  head  reeled.  I  uttered 
a  cry,  and,  in  an  agony  of  despair,  threw 
out  my  hands.  They  caught  the  rope. 
Knot  after  knot  slipped  past  my  fingers*  in 
the  descent  ere  my  senses  became  suffi- 
ciently clear  to  know  what  was  occurring  ; 
but  even  then,  the  instinct  of  self-preser- 
vation was  stronger  than  reason,  for  I  af- 
terward learned  from  the  boat's  crew  with 
what  skill  I  guided  myself  along  the  face 
of  the  cliff,  avoiding  every  difficulty  of  the 
jagged  rocks,  and  tracking  my  wTay  like  the 
most  experienced  climber. 

I  stood  upon  a  broad  flat  rock,  over 
which  white  sheets  of  foam  were  dashing. 
Oh,  how  I  loved  to  see  them  curling  on  my 
feet !  I  could  have  kissed  the  bright  wa- 
ter on  which  the  moonbeans  sported,  for 
the  moment  of  danger  was  passed.  The 
shadow  of  a  dreadful  death  had  moved 
from  my  soul.  What  cared  I  now  for  the 
boiling  surf  that  toiled  and  fretted  about 
me  ?  The  dangers  of  the  deep  were  as 
nothing  to  that  I  escaped  from,  and  when 
the  cutter's  boat  came  bounding  toward 
me,  I  minded  not  the  oft-repeated  warn- 
ings of  the  sailors,  but,  plunging  in,  I 
dashed  toward  her  on  a  retreating  wave, 
and  was  dragged  on  board  almost  lifeless 
from  my  struggles. 


The  red  glare  of  the  signal-fire  was  blaz* 
ing  from  the  old  tower  as  we  got  under 
weigh.  I  felt  my  eves  riveted  on  it  as  I  lay 
on  the  deck  of  'he  little  vessel,  which  now- 
stood  out  to  sea  in  gallant  style.  It  was 
my  last  look  of  France,  and  so  I  fell  it. 


CHAPTER  LXXVIII. 

THE   LANDING. 

With  the  crew  of  the  cutter  I  had  little 
intercourse.  They  were  Jerseymen — that 
hybrid  race,  neither  French  nor  English — 
who  followed  the  trade  of  spies  and  smug- 
glers, and  were  true  to  nothing  save  their 
own  interests.  The  skipper,  a  coarse,  ill- 
featured  fellow,  in  no  "respect  superior  to 
the  others,  leisurely  perused  the  letter  Dc 
Beauvais  gave  me  on  my  departure  ;  then, 
tearing  it  slowly,  threw  the  pieces  into  the 
fire. 

"What,  then,  is  this  ? '*  said  he,  taking 
up  a  sealed  packet,  which  I  now  for  the 
first  time  perceived  was  fastened  to  my 
knapsack.  -"It  seems  meant  for  me. 
Look  at  the  address — '  JacqTies  Cloquette, 
on  board  the  Rouge  Galant.'"  And,  so 
saying,  he  broke  the  seal,  and  bent  over 
the  contents. 

"  Oh  ! "  cried  he,  in  a  voice  of  triumph- 
ant delight,  "  this  is  a  prize  worth  having 
— the  English  signal-book  !  "  and  he  held 
up  the  little  volume  which  Paul  Dupont 
had  rescued  from  the  'Fawn.' 

"How  came  it  here?"  said  I,  horror- 
struck  at  the  loss  the  poor  sailor  had  sus- 
tained. 

"  Old  Martin,  of  the  <  Star/  tells  me  he 
stole  it  from  a  Marine  of  the  Guard,  and 
that  it  cost  him  twenty-four  flasks  of  his 
best  Pomard  before  the  fellow  and  his  com- 
panions were  drunk  enough  to  make  the 
theft  practicable.*' 

I  remembered  at  once  the  eagerness  of 
the  landlord  for  my  departure,  and  the 
hurried  anxiety  of  his  wish  that  morning 
might  find  me  miles  off  on  my  journey,  as 
well  as  the  care  he  bestowed  on  strapping 
my  knapsack,  and  saw  how  all  had  occurred. 

"  I  knew  most  of  them  already,"'  contin- 
ued the  skipper,  <■  but  here  is  one  will 
serve  our  turn  well  now — the  very  thing 
we  wanted,  for  it  saves  all  delay  and  stop- 
page. That  flag  is  the  signal  for  Admi- 
ralty dispatches,  which  are  often  brought 
by  small  craft  like  ours,  when  they  can't 
spare  cruisers.  We'll  soon  rig  it  out,  you'll 
see,  and  run  down  Channel  with  all  our 
canvas  set." 


580 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


He  went  aft  as  ho  spoke,  and   in  a  few 

seconds  the  cutler's  head  was  directed 
straight  toward  the  English  coast,  while, 
crowding  on  more  sail,  she  seemed  to  fly 
through  the  water. 

The  cheering  freshness  of  the  sea-breeze, 
the  sense  of  danger  past,  the  hope  of  escape, 
all  combining,  raised  my  spirits,  and  ele- 
vated my  courage ;  but,  through  all,  I  felt 
grieved  beyond  measure  at  the  loss  of  poor 
Paul  Dupont.  The  prize  the  honest  f  el  low- 
valued  next  to  life  itself,  if  not  above  it, 
taken  from  him  in  the  very  moment  of  his 
exultation.  Besides,  I  could  not  help  feel- 
ing that  suspicion  must  light  on  me  from 
my  sudden  disappearance  ;  and  my  indig- 
nation was  deep,  to  think  how  such  an  im- 
putation would  tarnish  the  honor  of  that 
service  I  gloried  in  so  much.  "How  far 
may  such  a  calumny  spread  ?  "  thought  I. 
''How  many  lips  may  repeat  the  tale,  and 
none  he  able  to  deny  it  ?  "  Deep  as  was 
my  regret  at  the  brave  Breton's  loss,  my 
anger  for  its  consequences  was  still  deeper  ; 
and  I  would  willingly  have  periled  all  my 
hope  of  reaching  England  to  have  been  able 
to  restore  the  book  into  Paul's  own  hand. 

These  feelings  did  not  tend  to  draw  me 
closer  in  intimacy  with  the  skipper,  whose 
pleasure  at  the  acquisition  was  only  height- 
ened by  the  subtlety  of  its  accomplishment, 
and  seemed  never  so  happy  as  when  repeat- 
ing some  fragment  of  the  landlord's  letter, 
and  rejoicing  at  the  discomfiture  the  brave 
sailor  must  have  experienced  on  discovering 
his  loss.  To  witness  the  gratification  a 
coarse  nature  feels  in  some  unworthy  but 
successful  action,  is  the  heaviest  penalty  an 
honorable  mind  can  experience,  when  un- 
happily its  possessor  has  been  m  any  way 
accessary  to  the  result.  With-  these  reflec- 
tions I  fell  off  to  sleep,  and  never  woke  till 
the  bright  sun  was  shining  over  the  white- 
crested  water,  and  the  craft  breasting  the 
wares,  with  a  strong  breeze  upon  her  canvas. 

As  we  held  on  down  Channel,  we  passed 
several  ships  of  war  beating  up  for  Spit- 
head  ;  but  our  blue  bunting,  curiously 
streaked  with  white,  was  a  signal  which  all 
acknowledged,  and  none  ventured  to  retard. 
Thus  passed  the  first  day.  As  night  was 
falling,  we  beheld  the  Needles  on  our  lee, 
and,  with  a  freshening  breeze,  held  on  our 
course. 

A  second  morning  broke,  and  now  the 
sea  was  covered  with  the  white  sails  of  a 
magnificent  fleet,  bound  for  the  West  Indies 
— at  least,  so  the  skipper  pronounced  it.  It 
was  indeed  a  glorious  sight  to  see  the  mighty 
vessels  obeying  the  signals  of  the  flag-ship, 
and  shaping  their  course  through  the  blue 
water,  as  if  instinct  with  life  and  reason. 


'  They  were  far  seaward  of  us,  however,  for 
now  we  hugged  the  land,  as  i  he  skipper  was 
only  desirous  of  an  opportunity  to  land  me 
unobserved,  before  he  proceeded  on  his  own 
more  immediate  enterprise— the  smuggling 
of  some  hogsheads  of  brandy  on  the  coasts 
of  Ireland. 

Left  to  my  own  thoughts,  the  memories 
of  my  pastille,  I  dreamed  away  the  hours 
uuconsciously,  and,  as  the  time  sped  on,  1 
knew  not  of  its  flight.  Some  strange  sail, 
seen  from  afar  off,  would  for  am  instant 
arouse  my  attention  ;  but  it  was  a  mere 
momentary  effect,  and  I  fell  back  into  my 
musings,  as  though  they  had  never  been 
interrupted.  As  I  look  back  upon  that 
voyage  now,  and  think  of  the  dreamy  list- 
lessness  in  which  its  hours  were  passed,  I 
can  half  fancy  that  certain  periods  of  our 
lives  are  destined  to  sustain  the  part  which 
night  performs  in  our  daily  existence,  and 
by  their  monotony  contribute  to  that  re- 
newal of  energy  and  vigor  so  essential  after 
times  of  labor  and  exertion.  It  seemed  to 
me  as  though,  the  period  of  exertion  past, 
I  was  regaining  in  rest  and  repose  the  power 
for  future  action,  and  I  canvassed  every  act 
of  the  past,  to  teach  me  more  of  my  own 
heart,  and  to  instruct  me  for  my  guidance 
in  life  after. 

"  You  can  land  now,  whenever  you 
please,"  said  the  skipper  to  me,  as,  by  a  faint 
moonlight,  we  moved  along  the  waveless 
sea.  "  We  can  put  you  ashore  at  any  mo- 
ment here." 

I  started  with  as  much  surprise  as  though 
the  thought  had  never  occurred  to  me,  and, 
without  replying,  I  leaned  over  the  bul- 
wark, and  gazed  at  the  faint  shadows  of 
tall  headlands,  about  three  miles  distant. 

"How  do  you  call  that  bluff  yonder  ?" 
said  I,  carelessly. 

"Wicklow  Head." 

"Wicklow  Head!  Ireland!"  cried  I, 
with  a  thrill  of  ecstasy  my  heart  had  never 
felt  for  many  a  day  before.  "Yes,  yes  ; 
land  me  there,  now,  at  once,"  said  I,  as  a 
thousand  thoughts  came  rushing  to  my 
mind,  and  hopes  too  vague  for  utterance, 
but  palpable  enough  to  cherish. 

With  the  speed  their  calling  teaches,  the 
crew  lowered  the  boat,  and,  as  I  took  my 
place  in  the  stern,  pulled  vigorously  toward 
the  shore.  As  the  swift  bark  glided  along 
the  shallow  sea,  I  could  scarce  restrain  my 
impatience,  from  springing  out,  and  rush- 
ing on  land.  Without  family  or  friend, 
without  one  to  welcome  or  meet  me,  still  it 
was  home — the  only  home  I  ever  had. 

The  sharp  keel  grated  on  the  beach,  its 
sound  vibrated  within  my  heart — I  jumped 
on  shore — a  few  words  of  parting,  and  the 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


581 


men  backed  their  oars — the  boat  slipped 
fast  through  the  water.  The  cutter,  too, 
got  speedily  under  weigh  again,  and  I  was 
alone.  Then  the  full  torrent  of  my  feelings 
found  their  channel,  and  I  burst  into  tears. 
Oh  !  they  were  not  tears  of  sorrow — neither 
were  they  the  outpourings  of  excessive  joy 
— they  were  the  utterance  of  a  heart  loaded 
with  its  own  unrelieved  griefs,  who  now 
found  "sympathy  on  touching  the  very  soil 
,  of  home.  I  felt  I  was  no  longer  friendless. 
Ireland,  my  own  dear  native  country,  would 
be  to  me  a  place  of  kindred  and  family — and 
I  fell  upon  my  knees,  and  blessed  it. 

Following  a  little  path,  which  led  slant- 
ingly up  the  cliff,  I  reached  the  top  as  day 
was  beginning  to  break,  and  gained  a  view 
of  the  country.  The  range  of  swelling 
hills,  dotted  with  cottages,  and  waving 
with  wood  ;  the  fields  of  that  emerald  green 
one  sees  not  in  other  lands  ;  the  hedge-rows, 
bounding  the  little  farms — all  so  unlike  the 
spreading  plains  of  France — struck  me  with 
delight,  and  it  was  with  a  rapture  of  hap- 
piness I  called  the  land  my  country. 

Directing  my  steps  toward  Dublin,  I  set 
out  at  a  good  pace,  but  following  a  path 
which  led  near  the  cliffs,  in  preference  to 
the  high-road,  for  I  was  well  aware  that 
my  appearance  and  dress  would  expose  me 
to  curiosity,  and  perhaps  subject  me  to  more 
serious  annoyance.  My  first  object  was  to 
learn  some  news  of  my  brother,  for,  al- 
though the  ties  of  affection  had  been  long 
since  severed  between  us,  those  of  blood 
still  remained,  and  I  wished  to  hear  of,  and 
it  might  be  to  see,  him  once  more.  For 
some  miles  I  had  kept  -my  eyes  directed 
toward  a  little  cabin,  which  crowned  a  cliff 
that  hung  over  the  sea,  and  this  I  reached 
at  last,  somewhat  wearied  and  hungry.  . 

As  I  followed  a  little  footpath  which  con- 
ducted to  the  door,  a  fierce  terrier  rushed 
out  as  if  to  attack  me,  but  was  immediately 
restrained  by  the  voice  of  a  man  within, 
calling, "  Down,  Vicksey,  down,  you  baste  ! " 
and  the  same  moment  a  stout,  middle-aged 
man  appeared  at  the  door. 

"Don't  be  afeared,  sir,  she's  not  wicked, 
but' we're  unused  to  strangers  down  here." 

"I  should  think  so,  friend,  from  my 
path,"  said  I,  throwing  a  glance  at  the  nar- 
row footway  I  had  followed  for  some  miles, 
over  Ji ill  and  precipice;  "but  I  am  unac- 
quainted with  the  country,  and  was  looking 
out  for  some  house  where J[  might  obtain  a 
breakfast." 

"There's  a  town  about  three  miles  down 
yonder,  and  a  fine  inn,  Fm  tould,  sir,"  re- 
plied he,  as  he  scrutinized  my  appearance 
with  a  shrewd  eye  ;  "but  if  I  might  make 
so  bould,  maybe  you'd  as  lief  not  go  there, 


and,  perhaps,  you'd  take  share  of  what  we 
have  here  ?  " 

"  Willingly,"  said  I,  accepting  the  hos- 
pitable offer,  as  freely  as  4t  was  made,  and 
entered  the  cabin  at  once. 

A  good-featured  countrywoman. and  some 
young  child ren,  were  seated  at  n  table, where 
a  large  dish  of  potatoes  and  some  fresh  fish 
were  smoking,  a  huge  jug  of  milk  occupy- 
ing the  middle  of  (lie  board.  The  woman 
blushed  as  she  heard  that  her  husband  had 
invited  a  gentleman  to  partake  of  his  hum- 
ble meal,  but  the  hone 4  fellow  cared  little 
for  the  simple  fare  he  offered  with  so  good 
agrace,  and  placed  my  chair  beside  his  own 
with  the  air  of  one  who  was  more  anxious 
for  his  guest's  comfort  than  caring  what  im- 
pression he  himself  might  make  upon  him. 

After  some  passing  words  about  the  sea- 
son, and  the  state  of  the  tides— for  my  host 
was  a  fisherman  — I  turned  the  conversation 
on  the  political  condition  of  the  country, 
avowing  frankly  that  I  had  been  for  some 
years  absent,  and  was  ignorant  of  what  had 
occurred  meantime. 

"'Twas  that  same  I  was  thinking,  sir," 
said  he,  replying  to  the  first  and  not  the 
latter  part  of  my 'remark.  "When  I  saw 
your  honor's  face,  and  the  beard  you  wore, 
I  said  to  myself  yo\\  wor  a  Frenchman." 

"  You  mistook  there,  then  ;  I  am  your 
countryman,  but  have  passed  a  good  many 
years  in  France." 

"  Fighting  for  Boney  ?  "  said  he,  as  his 
eyes  opened  wide  with  surprise  to  behold 
one  actually  before  him  who  might  have 
served  under  Napoleon. 

"Yes,  my  good  friend,  even  so;  I  was 
in  the  army  of  the  Emperor." 

"Tare  an  ages  !  then,  are  they  coming 
over  here  now  ?  "  cried  he,  almost  gasping 
in  his  eagerness. 

"No,  no,"  replied  I,  gravely;  "and  be 
thankful,  too,  for  it,  for  your  own  and  your 
children's  sakes,  that  you  see  not  a  war  rag- 
ing in  the  fields  and  cities  of  your  native 
land.  Be  assured,  whatever  wrongs  yon 
suffer — I  will  not  dispute  their  existence, 
for,  as  I  told  you,  I  am  ignorant  of  the 
condition  of  the  country — but  whatever 
they  may  be,  you  can  pay  too  dearly  for 
their  remedy." 

"But  sure  they'd  be  on  our  side,  wouldn't 
they  ?  " 

"  Of  course  they  would  ;  but  think  you 
that  they'd  fight  your  battles  without  their 
price  ?  Do  you  believe  that  Frenchmen  so 
love  you  here  that  they  would  come  to  shed 
their  blood  in  your  cause  without  their  own 
prospect  of  advantage  ?  " 

"They  hate  the  English,  I'm  tould,  as 
bad  as  we  do  ourselves." 


582 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


"They  do  so,  and  Aviili  more  of  justice 
for  their  hate';  but  that  dislike  might  suf- 
fice to  cause  a  war,  it  never  would  reward 
it.  No,  no.  [  know  something  of-  the  spirit 
of  French  conquest;  I  glory  in  the  bravery 
and  the  heroism  thai  accomplished  it;  but 
I  never  wish  to  so  my  own  country  at  the 
mercy  of  France.  Whose  soldier  would 
you  become  it*  the  Emperor  Napoleon  land- 
ed here  to-morrow  ?  His.  Whose  uni- 
form would  you  wear — whose  musket  carry 
— whose  pay  receive — whose  orders  obey  ? 
His,  and  his  only.  And  how  long,  think 
you,  would  your  services  be  limited  to 
home  ?  What  should  prevent  your  being 
sent  away  to  Egypt,  to  Poland,  or  to  Rus- 
sia ?  How  much  favor  would  an  Irish  de- 
serter receive  from  a  French  court-martial, 
think  you  ?  No,  good  friend,  while  you 
have  this  warm  roof  to  shelter  you,  and  that 
broad  sea  is  open  for  your  industry  and 
toil,  never  Avish  for  foreign  aid  to  assist 
you." 

I  saw  that  the  poor  fellow  was  discour- 
aged by  my  words,  and  gradually  led  him 
to  speak  of  those  evils  for  whose  alleviation 
he  looked  to  France.  To  my  surprise,  how- 
ever, he  descanted  less  .on  political  griev- 
ances than  those  which  affect  the  well-be- 
ing of  the  country  socially.  It,  was  not  the 
severity  of  a  government,  but  the  absence 
of  encouragement  to  industry — the  neglect 
of  the  poor — which  afflicted  him.  England 
was  no  longer'  the  tyrant.  The  landlord 
had  taken  her  place  ;  still,  with  the  perti- 
nacity of  ignorance,  he  visited  all  the  wrongs 
on  that  land  from  which  originally  his  first 
misfortunes  came,  and  with  perverse  inge- 
nuity would  endeavor  to  trace  out  every 
hardship  he  suffered  as  arising  from  the 
ill-will  and  hatred  the  Saxon  bore  him.  It 
was  easy  to  perceive  that  the  arguments  he 
used  were  not  of  his  own  devising ;  they 
had  heea  supplied  by  others,  in  whose  opin- 
ion he  had  confidence  ;  and  though  value- 
less and  weak  in  reality,  to  him  they  were 
all-convincing  and  unanswerable — not  the 
less,  perhaps,  that  they  offered  that  value 
to  self-love  which  comes  from  attributing 
any  evils  we  endure  to  causes  outside  and 
independent  of  ourselves.  These,  confront- 
ed with  extravagant  hopes  of  what  would 
ensue  should  national  independence  be  es- 
tablished, formed  his  code ;  and  however 
refuted  on  each  point,  a  certain  conviction, 
too  deeply  laid  to  be  disturbed  by  any  op- 
posing force,  remained  ;  and  in  his,  "Well, 
well,  God  knows  best,  and  maybe  we'll  have 
better  luck  yet,"  you  could  perceive  that  he 
was  inaccessible  to  any  appeal,-  except  from 
the  quarter  which  ministered  to  his  discon- 
tent and  disaffection. 


One  thing  was  clear  to  me,  from  all  he 
said,  that  Li  the  spirit  of  open  resistance  no 
longer  existed  toward  England,  it-  was  re- 
placed by  as  determined  and  as  rancorous 
hatred — a  brooding,  ill-omened  dislike  had 
succeeded,  to  the  full  as  hostile,  and  far 
less  easily  subdued.  How  it  would  end — 
whether  in  the  long-lingering  fear,  which 
wastes  the  energies  and  saps  the  strength 
of  a  people,  or  m  the  conflict  of  a  civil 
Avar — the  prospect  was  equally  ruinous. 

Sadly  pondering  on  these  things,  I  parted" 
with  my  humble  host,  and  set  out  toward 
the  capital.  If  my  conversation  with  the 
Irishman  had  taught  me  somewhat  of  the 
state  of  feeling  then  current  in  Ireland,  it 
also  conveyed  another  and  very  different 
lesson  :  it  enabled  me  to  take  some  account 
of  the  change  years  had  effected  in  my  OAvn 
sentiments.  As  a  boy,  high-flown,  vague, 
and  unsettled  ideas'  of  national  liberty  and 
independence  had  made  me  look  to  France 
as  the  emancipator  of  Europe.  As  a  man, 
I  kneAV  that  the  lust  of  conquest  had  ex- 
tinguished the  love  of  freedom  in  French- 
men ;  that  they  who  trusted  to  her  did  but 
exchange  the  dominion  of  their  old  masters 
for  the  tyranny  of  a  new  one  ;  while  such  as 
boldly  stepped  forward  in  defense  of  their 
liberties,  found  that  there  was  neither 
mercy  nor  compassion  for  the  conquered. 

I  had  seen  the  Austrian  prisoners  and  the 
Russian  led  captive  through  the  streets  of 
Paris — I  had  witnessed  the  great  capital  of 
Prussia  in  its  day  of  mourning  after  Jena — ■ 
and  all  my  idolatry  for  the  General  scarce 
balanced  my  horror  of  the  Emperor,  whose 
vengeance  had  smitten  two  nations  thus 
heavily  ;  and  I  said  within  my  heart,  "  May 
my  countrymen,  whatever  be  their  day  of 
need,  never  seek  an  alliance  with  despotic 
France. " 


CHAPTER  LXXIX. 

A   CHARACTER  OF    "  OLD    DUBLIN." 

It  was  about  nine  o'clock  of  a  calm  sum- 
mer evening  as  I  entered  Dublin  ;  nearly 
the  same  hour  at  which,  some  ten  years  be- 
fore, I  had  approached  that  city — poor, 
houseless,  friendless  ;  and  still  was  I  the 
same.  In  that  great  capital  of  my  country 
I  had  not  one  to  welcome  me — not  one  Avho 
would  rejoice  at  my  coming,  or  feel  any 
interest  in  my  fortunes.  This  indeed  was 
loneliness — utter  solitude.  Still  if  there  be 
something,  which  weighs  heavily  on  the 
heart  in  the  isolation  of  one  like  me,  there 
is  a  proportionate  6ense  of  independence  of 
his  fellow-man  that  sustains  the  courage 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


583 


and  gives  energy  to  the  will.  I  felt  this  as 
I  mixed  with  the  crowds  that  thronged  the 
streets,  and  shrank  not  from  the  inquisitive 
glances  which  my  questionable  appearance 
excited  as  I  passed. 

Though  considerable  changes  had  taken 
place  in  the  outskirts  of  the  capital  since  I 
had  seen  it  last,  the  leading  thoroughfares 
were  just  as  I  remembered  them  ;  and  as  I 
walked  along  Dame  street,  and  one  by  one 
each  familiar  object  caught  my  eye,  I  could 
almost  have  fancied  the  long  interval  since 
I  had  been  there  before  like  a  mere  dream. 
National  physiognomy,  too,  has  a  strange 
effect  on  him  who  has  been  long  absent 
from  his  country.  Each  face  you  meet 
seems  well  known.  The  traits  of  features, 
to  which  the  eye  was  once  so  well  accus- 
tomed, awake  a  memory  of  individuals,  and 
it  is  sometimes  a  most  •difficult  task  to  dis- 
tinguish between  the  acquaintance  and  the 
passing  stranger.  This  I  experienced  at 
every  moment ;  and  at  length,  as  I  stood 
gazing  on  the  space  before  the  Bank,  and 
calling  to  mind  the  last  scene  I  witnessed 
there,  a  tall,  strongly-built  man  brushed 
close  past  me,  and  then  turning  round, 
fixed  a  steady  and  searching  look  on  me. 
As  I  returnee!  his  stare,  a  sudden  thought 
flashed  upon  me  that  I  had  seen  the  face 
before,  but  where,  how,  and  when,  I  could 
not  call  to  mind  ;  and  thus  we  stood  silently 
confronting  each  other  for  some  minutes. 

"  I  see  you  are  a  stranger  here,  sir,"  said 
he,  touching  his  hat  courteously  ;  "  can  I 
be  of  service  to  you  with  any  information 
as  to  the  city  ?  " 

"I  was  curious  to  knoAV,  sir,"  said  I,  still 
more  puzzled  by  the  voice  than  I  had  been 
by  the  features  of  the  stranger,  "  if  Miley's 
Hotel,  which  was  somewhere  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, exists  still  ?" 

"It  does,  sir,  but  it  has  changed  pro- 
prietors several  times  since  3*011  knew  it," 
replied  he,  significantly.  "The  house  is 
yonder,  where  you  see  that  large  lamp.  I 
perceive,  sir,  I  was  mistaken  in  supposing 
you  a  foreigner.  I  wish  you  good-evening. " 
And  again  saluting  me,  he  resumed  his  way. 

As  I  crossed  the  street  toward  the  hotel,. 
I  remarked  that  he  turned  as  if  to  watch 
me,  and  became  more  than  ever*  embar- 
rassed as  to  who  he  might  be. 

The  doorway  of  the  hotel  was  crowded 
with  loungers  and  idlers  of  every  class,  from 
the  loitering  man  about  town  to  the  ragged 
news-vender — between  Avhom,  whatever  dis- 
parity of  condition  existed,  a  tone  of  the 
most  free-and-easy  condition  prevailed. 
The  newsman  interpolating  amid  the  loud 
announcements  of  the  latest  intelligence, 
the  reply  to  the  observation  beside  him. 


One  figure  was  conspicuous  in  the  group. 
He  was  a  short,  dwarfish  creature,  with  an 
enormous  head,  covered  with  a  1'el!  of  black 
hair,  falling  in  masses  down  his  back  and 
on  his  shoulders.  A  pair  of  fierce,  fiery 
black  eyes  glared  beneath  his  heavy  brows  : 
and  a  large,  thick-lipped  mouth  moved 
wit  h  all  the  glib  eloquence  of  his  class  and 
calling.  Fearfully  distorted  legs  and  club 
feet  gave  to  his  gait  a  rolling  motion,  which 
added  to  the  singularity  of  hjs  whole  ap- 
pearance. 

Terry  Regan  was  then  at  the  head  of  his 
walk  in  Dublin,  and  to  his  capacious  lungs 
and  voluble  tongue  were  committed  the  an- 
nouncement of  those  great  events  which, 
from  time  to  time,  were  given  to  the  Irish 
public  through  the  columns  of  the  Cor- 
respondent and  the  Dublin  Journal. 

I  soon  found  myself  in  the  crowd  around 
this  celebrated  character,  who  was,  as  usual, 
extolling  the  great  value  of  that  night's 
paper,  by  certain  brief  suggestions  regard- 
ing its  contents. 

"Here's  the  whole,  full,  and  true  ac- 
count— bad  luck  to  the  less — of  the  great 
and  sanguinary  battle  between  Boney  and 
the  Roosians,  with  all  the  particklars  about 
the  killed,  wounded,  and  missing,  with 
what  Boney  said  when  it  wTas  over." 

"  What  was  that,  Terry  ?  " 

"  Hould  yer  peace,  ye  spalpeen.  Is  it  to 
the  likes  of  yez  I'd  be  telling  cabinet  sa- 
crets  ?  Here,  yer  honor — -  Falkneiy  is  it, 
or  '  The  Saunders  ? '  With  the  report  of 
Mr.  O'Gorman's  grand  speech  in  Ennis,  on 
the  Catholic  claims.  There's,  yer  sowl, 
there's  fippence-worth  any  day  av  the  week. 
More  be  token,  the  letter  from  Jemmy 
O'Brien  to  his  wife,  wid  an  elegant  epic 
poem  called  'The  G-auger.'  Bloody  news, 
gentlemen,  bloody  news  !  Won't  yez  sport 
a  tester  for  a  sight  of  a  real  battle,  and  ten 
thousand  kilt — with  -  The  Whole  Duty  of 
an  Informer,  in  two  easy  lessons.'  The 
price  of. stocks  and  shares —  Ay,  Mr. 
O'Hara,  and  what  boroughs  is  bringing  in 
the  market." 

This  last  sally  was  directed  toward  a 
large,  red-faced  man,  who  good-humoredly 
joined  in  the  laugh  against  himself. 

"And  who's  this,  boys  ?"  cried  the  fel- 
low, turning  suddenly  his  piercing  eyes  on 
me,  as  I  endeavored,  step  by  step,  to  reach 
the  door  of  the  hotel.  "  Hurroo.  Look  at 
his  beard,  acushla  !  On  my  conscience,  I 
wouldn't  wonder  if  it  was  General  Hoche 
himself.  'Tis  late  yer  come,  sir,"  said  he, 
addressing  me  directly;  "there's  no  fun 
here  now  at  all,  barrin'  what  Beresford  has 
in  the  riding-house." 

"Get  away,   you  ruffian,"  said  a  well- 


SS4 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


dressed  and  respectable-looking  man,  some- 
what past  the  middle  of  life.  "  How  dare 
you  permil  your  tongue  to  take  liberties 
with  a  stranger  ?  Allow  me  to  make  room 
for  you,  sir,"  continued  he,  as  he  politely 
made  an  opening  in  the  crowd,  and  suffered 
me  to  enter  the  house. 

"Ah,  counselor,  dear,  don't  be  cross," 
whined  out  the  news-vender.  "Sure,  isn't 
it  wid  the  bad  tongue  we  both  make  our 
bread.  And  here,"  vociferated  lie  once 
more— "and  here  ye  have  the  grand  dinner 
at  the  Lord  Mayor's,  wid  all  the  speeches 
and  toasts — wid  the  glorious,  pious,  and 
immortial  memory  of  King  William,  who 
delivered  us  from  popery — (by  pitched 
caps) — from  slavery — (by  whipping) — from 
brass  money — (by  bad  ha'pence) — and  from 
wooden  shoes — (by  bare  feet).  Haven't  we 
reason  to  bless  his —  ?  Ay,  the  heavens  be 
his  bed  !  "lis  like  Molly  Crownahon's  hus- 
band he  was.'' 

"How  was  that,  Terry?"  asked  a  gen- 
tleman near. 

"  Take  a  '  Saunders,'  yer  honor,  and  I'll 
tell  you." 

"Here,  then,  here's  fippence ;  and  now 
for  the  explanation." 

"Molly  Crownahon,  yer  honor,  was,  like 
us  poor  craytures,  always  grateful  and  con- 
tented wid  the  Lord's  goodness  to  us,  even 
in  taking  away  our  chief  comfort  and  bless- 
ing—the darling  up  there  on  the  horse  ! 
Ah,  'tis  an  elegant  sate  ye  have,  without 
stirrups  !  And  she  went  one  day  to  say  a 
handful  of  prayers  over  his  grave — the  hus- 
band's, ye  mind — and  sure  if  she  did,  when 
she  knelt  down  on  the  grass,  she  sprung  up 
again  as  quick  as  she  went  down,  for  the 
nettles  was  all  over  the  place  entirely. 
'Bad  scran  to  ye,  Peter,'  says  she,  as  she 
rubbed  her  legs — 'bad  scran  to  ye — liv- 
ing or  dead,  there  was  always  a  sting  in 
ye.'" 

As  the  latter  part  of  this  speech  was  ad- 
dressed in  a  tone  of  apostrophe  to  the  statue 
of  King  William,  it  was  received  by  the  as- 
sembled crowd  with  a  roar  of  laughter. 

By  this  time  I  had  entered  the  house,  and 
only  bethought  me  how  little  suited  was 
the  great  hotel  of  the  city  to  pretensions  as 
humble  as  mine.  It  was  now,  however,  too 
late  to  retreat,  and  I  entered  the  coffee- 
room,  carrying  my  knapsack  in  my  hand. 
As  I  passed  up  the  room  in  search  of  a  va- 
cant table,  the  looks  of  astonishment  my 
appearance  excited  on  each  side  were  most 
palpable  evidences  that  the  company  con- 
sidered me  as  an  interloper.  While  some 
contented  themselves  with  a  stare  of  steady 
surprise,  others,  less  guarded  in  their  im- 
pertinence, whispered  with,  and  even  wink- 


ed at    their  neighbors,  to  attract  attention 
toward  me. 

Offensive  as  this  unquestionably  was,  it 
amazed  even  more  than  it  annoyed  me.  In 
France,  such  a  display  of  feeling  wauld 
have  been  impossible — and  the  humblesi 
soldier  of  the  army  would  not  have  been 
so  received,  had  he  deemed  fit  to  enter 
Beauvilliers's  or  Very's. 

Whether  hurt  at  this  conduct,  and,  con- 
sequently, more  alive  to  affront  from  any 
quarter,  or  that  the  waiters  participated  in 
the  sentiments  of  their  betters,  I  cannot 
exactly  say  ;  but  I  certainly  thought  their 
manner  even  less  unequivocally  betrayed  the 
same  desire  of  impertinence.  This  was 
not  long  a  mere  suspicion  on  my  part,  for, 
on  inquiring  whether  I  could  have  a  room 
for  the  night,  the  waiter,  touching  my 
knapsack,  .which  lay  on  the  ground  beside 
me,  with  his  foot,  replied, 

"Is  this  your  luggage,  sir  ?" 

Amazement  so  completely  mastered  my 
indignation  at  this  insolence,  that  I  could 
make  no  answer,  but  by  a  look.  This  had 
its  effect,  however,  and  the  fellow,  without 
further  delay,  *  bustled  off  to  make  the 
inquiry. 

He  returned  in  a  few  minutes  with  a  civil 
message,  that  I  could  be  accommodated, 
and,  having  placed  before  me  the  simple 
meal  I  ordered,  retired.  As  I  sat  over  my 
supper,  I  could  not  help  feeling  that,  unless 
memory  played  me  false,  the  company  were 
little  like  the  former  frequenters  of  this 
house.  I  remembered  it  of  old,  when  Bub- 
bleton  and  his  brother  officers  came  there, 
and  when  the  rooms  were  thronged  with 
members  of  both  houses  of  parliament — 
when  peers  and  gentlemen  of  the  first 
families  were  grouped  about  the  windows 
and  the  fireplaces,  and  the  highest  names 
of  the  land  were  heard  in  the  din  of  recog- 
nition— handsome  equipages  and  led  horses 
stood  before  the  doors  ;  but  now,  the  ragged 
mob  without  was  scarce  a  less  worthy  suc- 
cessor to  the  brilliant  display  than  were  the 
company  within  to  the  former  visitants. 
A  tone  of  pretentious  impertinence,  an  air 
of  swagger  and  mock  defiance,  the  most 
"opposite  to  the  polished  urbanity  which 
once  prevailed,  was  now  conspicuous  ;  and 
in  their  loud  speech  and  violent  gesticula- 
tion, it  was  easy  to  mark  how  they  had  de- 
generated from  that  high  standard  which 
made  the  Irish  gentleman  of  his  day  the 
most  polished  man  of  Europe. 

If,  in  appearance  and  manner,  they  fell 
far  short  of  those  my  memory  recalled, 
their  conversation  more  markedly  still  dis- 
played the  long  interval  between  them. 

Here,    of   old,   were  retailed  the   latest 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS. 


585 


news  of  the  debate — the  last  brilliant  thing 
of  Grattan,  or  the  last  biting  retort  of 
Flood  ;  here  came  hot  from  debate  the  great 
champions  of  either  party  to  relax  and 
recruit  for  fresh  efforts,  and  in  the  groups 
that  gathered  around  them  you  might  learn 
how  great  genius  can  diffuse  its  influence 
and  scatter  intelligence  around  it,  as  the 
Nile  waters  spread  plenty  and  abundance 
wherever  they  flow.  High  and  noble  sen- 
timents, holy  aspirations  and  eloquent 
thoughts,  made  an  atmosphere,  to  breathe 
which  was  to  feel  an  altered  nature.  But 
now,  a  vapid  mixture  of  conceit  and  slang 
had  usurped  the  place  of  these,  and  a  tone 
of  vulgar  self-sufficiency,  unhappily  too 
much  in  keeping  with  the  externals  of  those 
who  displayed  it :  the  miserable  contentions 
of  different  factions  had  replaced  the  bolder 
strife  of  opposite  parties,  and  provincialism 
had  put  its  stamp  on  everything.  The  na- 
tion, too,  if  I  might  trust  my  ears  with 
what  fell  around  me,  had  lost  all  memory 
of  its  once  great  names,  and  new  can- 
didates for  popular  favor  figured  in  their 
places. 

Such  were  some  of  the  changes  I  could 
mark,  even  as  I  sat.  But  my  attention 
was  speedily  drawn  from  them  by  a  cir- 
cumstance more  nearly  concerning  myself. 
Tli is  was  the  appearance  in  the  coffee-room 
of  the  gentleman  who  first  addressed  me 
in  the  street.' 

As  he  passed  rpund  the  room,  followed 
by  a  person  whose  inferiority  was  evident, 
he  was  recognized  by  most  of  those  present, 
many  of  whom  shook  him  warmly  by  the 
hand,  and  pressed  him  to  join  their  parties ; 
but  this  he  declined,  as  he  continued  to 
walk  slowly  on,  scrutinizing  each  face  as  he 
went.  At  last  I  saw  his  eyes  turn  toward 
me.  It  was  scarcely  a  glance,  so  rapid  was 
it,  and  so  quickly  were  his  looks  directed 
to  a  different  quarter ;  but  I  could  mark 
that  he  whispered  something  to  the  person 
who  followed,  and  then,  after  carelessly 
turning  over  a  newspaper  on  the  table, 
sauntered  from  the  room.  As  he  did  so, 
the  shaggy  head  of  the  dwarf  news-vender 
peeped  in,  and  the  great  black  eyes  took  a 
survey  of  the  coffee-room,  till  finally  they 
settled  on  me. 

"Ah  !  "  cried  the  fellow,  with  a  strange 
blending  of  irony  and  compassion  in  his 
voice,  "  be  gorra,  I  kneAvhow  it  would  be — 
the  major  has  ye ! "  At  this  a  general 
laugh  broke  out  from  all  present,  and  every 
eye  was  fixed  on  me.  Meanwhile,  the  fol- 
lower had  taken  his  place  nearly  opposite 
me  at  the  table,  and  was  busily  engaged 
examining  a  paper  which  he  had  taken 
from  his  pocket. 


"  May  I  ask,  sir,  if  your  name  be  Burke  ?" 

said  he,  in  a  low  voice,  across  the  table. 

I  started  with  amazement  to  hear  my 
name  pronounced  where  I  believed  myself 
so  completely  a  stranger,  and,  in  my  as- 
tonishment, forgot  to  answer. 

"  I  was  asking,  sir — "  repeated  he. 

"Yes,  you  are  quite  correct,"  interrupted 
I ;  "that  ismy  name.  May  I  beg  to  know, 
in  return,  for  what  purpose  you  make  the 
inquiry  ?" 

"•  Thomas  Burke,  sir?"  continued  he, 
inattentive  to  my  observation,  and  ap- 
parently about  to  write  the  name  on  the 
paper  before  him. 

I  nodded,  and  he  wrote  down  the  words. 

"  That  saves  a  deal  of  trouble  to  all  of  us, 
sir,"  said  he,  as  he  finished  writing.  ••  This 
is  a  warrant  for  your  arrest ;  but  the  major 
is  quite  satisfied  if  you  can  give  had  for 
your  appearance." 

"  Arrest !  "  repeated  I  ;  "on  what  charge 
am  I  arrested  ?  " 

"  You'll  hear  in  the  morning,  I  sup- 
pose," said  he,  quietly.  "  What  shall  we 
say  about  the  bail — have  you  any  acquain- 
tance, or  friend,  in  town  ?  " 

"  Neither — I  am  a  perfect  stranger  here  ; 
but  if  you  are  authorized  to  arrest  me,  I 
here  surrender  myself  at  once."  By  this 
time,  several  persons  of  the  coffee-room  had 
approached  the  table,  and,  among  the  rest, 
the  gentleman  who  so  politely  made  way 
for  me  in  the  crowd  to  reach  the  door. 

"What  is  it,  Roche?"  said  he,  ad- 
dressing the  man  at  the  table — "  a  war- 
rant ?  " 

"Yes,  sir — for  this  gentleman  here  ;  but 
we  can  take  bail,  if  he  has  it." 

"I  have  told  you  already  that  lama 
stranger,  and  know  no  one  here." 

The  gentleman  threw  his  eyes  over  the 
warrant,  and  then  looking  me  steadily  in 
the  face,  muttered,  in  a  whisper,  to  the  of- 
ficer, "Why,  he  must  have  been  a  boy — a 
mere  child,  at  the  time." 

"  Very  true,  sir:  but  the  major  says  it 
must  be  done.  Maybe  you'd  bail  him  your- 
self." These  words  were  added  in  a  tone  of 
half  irony,  as  the  fellow  gave  a  sly  look  be- 
neath his  eyelashes. 

"I  tell  you,  again,"  said  I,  impatient  at 
the  whole  scene,  "  I  am  quite  ready  to  ac- 
company you." 

"Is  this  your  name,  sir?"  said  the 
strange  gentleman,  addressing  me,  as  he 
pointed  to  the  warrant. 

"  Yes,"  interposed  the  officer,  "there's 
no  doubt  about  that ;  he  gave  it  himself." 

"Come,  come,  then,  Eoche,"  said  he, 
cajolingly,  "  these  are  not  times  for  undue 
strictness.   Let  the  gentleman  remain  where 


IM 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


he  is  co-night,  and  to-morrow  lie  will  at- 
tend you.  You  can  renin  in  here,  if  you 
like,  with  him." 

"If  you  say  so,  I  suppose  we  may'do  it," 
replied  the  officer,  as  he  folded  up  the 
paper,  and  arose  from  the  table. 

"Yes,  yes — that's  the  proper  course. 
And  now,"  said  he,  addressing  me,  "will 
you  permit  me  to  join  you  while  I  finish 
this  bottle  of  claret?" 

I  could  have  no  objection  to  so  pleasant  a 
proposal,  and  thus,  for  the  time  at  least, 
ended  this  disagreeable  affair. 


CHAPTEE  LXXX. 

AN     UNFORESEEN    EVIL. 

"-I  perceive,  sir,"  said  the  stranger, 
seating  himself  at  my  table,  "  they  are  de- 
sirous to  restore  an  antiquated  custom  in 
regard  to  you.  I  thought  the  day  of  in- 
demnities was  past  and  gone  forever." 

"I  am  ignorant  to  what  you  allude." 

"  The  authorities  would  make  you  out  an 
emissary  of  France,  sir;  as  if  France  had 
not  enough  on  her  hands  already,  without 
embroiling  herself  in  a  quarrel  from  which 
no  benefit  could  accrue — not  to  speak  of 
the  little  likelihood  that  any  one  on  such 
an  errand  would  take  up  his  abode,  as 
you  have,  in  the  most  public  hotel  of 
Dublin." 

"I  have  no  apprehensions  as  to  any 
charges  they  may  bring  against  me.  I  am 
conscious  of  no  crime,  saving  having  left 
my  country  a  boy,  and  returned  to  it  a 
man. " 

"  You  were  in  the  service  of  France, 
then?" 

"Yes,  since  1801  I  have  been  a  soldier." 

"So  long  ?  You  must  have  been  but  a 
mere  boy  when  you  quitted  Ireland.  How 
have  they  connected  you  with  the  troubles 
of  that  period  ?  " 

I  hesitated  for  a  second  or  two,  uncertain 
what  answer,  if  any,  I  should  return  to  this 
abrupt  question.  A  glance  at  the  manly 
and  frank  expression  of  the  stranger's  face 
soon  satisfied  me  that  no  unworthy  curi- 
osity had  prompted  the  inquiry,  and  I  told 
him  in  a  few  words,  how,  as  a  child,  the 
opinions  of  the  patriotic  party  had  won  me 
over  to  embark  in  a  cause  I  could  neither 
fa  thom  nor  understand.  I  traced  out  rapidly 
the  few  leading  events  of  my  early  career 
down  to  the  last  evening  I. spent  in  Ire- 
land. When  I  came  to  this  part  of  my 
story,  the  stranger  became  unusually  atten- 
tive, and   more  than   once  questioned  me 


respecting  the  origin  of  my  quarrel  with 
Crofts,  and  the  timely  appearance  of  Darby, 

of  whose  name  and  character,  however,  I 
gave  him  no  information,  merely  Bpeaking 

of  him  as  an  old  and  attached  follower  of 
my  family. 

"Since  that  period,  then,  you  have  not 
been  in  Ireland  r"  said  he,  as  I  concluded. 

"Never:  nor  bad  I  any  intention  of  re- 
luming until  lately,  when  circumstances 
induced  me  to  leave  the  Emperor's  service  ; 
and  from  very  uncertainty  I  came  back 
here,  without  well  "knowing  why." 

"  Of  course,  then,  you  have  never  heard 
the  catastrophe  of  your  adventure  with 
Crofts.     It  was  a  lucky  hit  for  him." 

"  How  so  ?     I  don't  understand  you." 

"  Simply  this  : — Crofts  was  discovered 
in  the  morning,  severely  wounded,  where 
you  left  him,  his  account  being,  that  he 
had  been  waylaid  by  a  party  of  rebels,  who 
had  obtained  the  countersign  of  the  night, 
and  passed  the  sentry  in  various  disguises. 
You  yourself — for  so,  at  least,  I  surmise  it 
must  have  been — were  designated  the  prime 
mover  of  the  scheme,  and  a  government 
reward  was  offered  for  your  apprehension. 
Crofts  was  knighted,  and  appointed  to  the 
staff — the  reward  of  his  loyalty  and  courage 
— of  the  exact  details  of  which  my  memory 
is,  unfortunately,  little  tenacious." 

"  And  the  truth  of  the  occurrence  was 
never  known  ?  " 

"What  I  have  told  you  is  the  only  ver- 
sion current.  I  have  reason  to  remember 
so  much  of  it,  for  I  was  then,  and  am  still, 
one  of  the  legal  advisers  of  the  Crown,  and 
was  consulted  on  the  case,  of  which,  I  con- 
fess, I  always  had  my  misgivings.  There 
was  a  rage,  however,  for  rewarding  loyalty, 
as  it  was  termed,  at  the  period,  and  the 
story  went  the  round  of  the  papers.  Now, 
I  fancy  Crofts  would  just  as  soon  not  see 
you  back  again.  He  has  made  all  he  can 
of  the  adventure,  and  would  as  lief  have  it 
quietly  forgotten." 

"  But  can  I  suffer  it  to  rest  here  ?  Is 
such  an  imputation  to  lie  on  my  character 
as  he  would  cast  on  me  ?" 

"Take  no  steps  in  the  matter  on  that 
score  :  vindication  is  time  enough  when 
the  attack  is  made  directly:  besides,  where 
should  you  find  your  witness— where  is  the 
third  party,  who  could  prove  your  inno- 
cence, and  that  all  you  did  was  in  self-de- 
fense ? — without  his  testimony,  your  story 
would  go  for  nothing.  No,  no.  Be  well 
satisfied  if  the  charge  is  suffered  to  sleejo, 
which  is  not  unlikely.  Crofts  would  scarce- 
ly like  to  confess  that  his  antagonist  was 
little  more  than  a  child  ;  his  prowess  would 
gain   nothing  by  the*  avowal;  besides,  the 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


587 


world  goes  well  with  him  latterly  :  it  is  but 
a  month  ago,  I  think,  he  succeeded,  un- 
expectedly, to  a  large  landed  property." 

The  stranger,  whose  name  was  M'Dou- 
gall, 'continued  to  talk  for  some  time  longer, 
most  kindly  volunteered  to  advise  me  in 
the  difficult  position  I  found  myself,  and 
having  given  me  his  address  in  town,  wished 
me  a  good-night  and  departed. 

It  was  to  no  purpose  I  laid  my  head 
on  my  pillow  ;  tired  and  fatigued  as  I  was, 
I  could  not  sleep  ;  the  prospect  of  fresh 
troubles  awaiting  me  made  me  restless  and 
feverish,  and  I  longed  for  day  to  break, 
that  I  might  manfully  confront  whatever 
danger  was  before  me,  and  oppose  a  stout 
heart  to  the  arrows  of  adverse  fortune.  My 
accidental  meeting  with  the  stranger  also 
reassured  my  courage,  and  I  felt  gratified  to 
think  that  such  rencontres  in  life  are  the 
sunny  spots  which  illumine  our  career  in 
the  world — the  harbingers  of  bright  days 
to  come. 

This  feeling  was  still  more  strongly  im- 
pressed on  me  as  I  entered  the  small  room  on 
the  ground-floor  at  the  Castle,  where  was 
the  secretary's  office,  and  beheld  M'Dougall 
seated  in  an  arm-chair,  reading  the  news- 
paper of  the  day.  I  could  not*  help  con- 
necting his  presence  there  with  some  kindly 
intention  toward  me,  and  already  regarded 
him  as  my  friend.  Major  Barton  stood  at 
the  secretary's  side,  and  whispered  from 
time  to  time  in  his  ear.  • 

"I  have  before  me  certain  information, 
sir,"  said  the  secretary,  addressing  me, 
"that  you  were  connected  with  parties  who 
took  an  active  part  in  the  late  rebellion  in 
this  country,  and  by  them  sent  over  to 
France  to  negotiate  co-operation  and  assis- 
tance from  that  quarter" — Barton  here 
whispered  something,  and  the  secretary  re- 
sumed— "and  in  continuance  of  this 
scheme  are  at  present  here." 

"I  have  only  to  observe,  sir,  that  I  left 
Ireland  a  mere  boy,  when,  whatever  my 
opinions  might  have  been,  they  were,  I  sus- 
pect, of  small  moment  to  his  majesty's  gov- 
ernment ;  that  I  have  served  some  years  in 
the  French  army,  during  .rhich  period  I 
neither  corresponded  with  any  one  here, 
nor  had  intercourse  with  any  from  Ireland  ; 
and  lastly,  that  I  have  come  back  unac- 
credited by  any  party,  not  having,  as  I  be- 
lieve, a  single  acquaintance  in  the  island." 

"  Do  you  still  hold  a  commission  in  the 
French  service  ?  " 

"Xo,  .sir.  I  resigned  my  grade  as  cap- 
tain some  time  since." 

"What  were  your  reasons  for  that  step  ?  " 

"  They  were  of  a  purely  personal  nature, 
having  no  concern  with  politics  of  any  sort. 


I  should,  therefore,  ask  of  you  not  to  de- 
ma  nd  them.  I  can  only  say,  they  reflect 
neither  on  my  honor  nor  my  loyalty." 

"His  loyalty  !  Would  you  a.-k  him.  sir, 
how  he  applies  the  term,  and  to  what 
sovereign  and  what  government  the  obe- 
dience is  rendered?''  said  Barton,  with  a 
half  smile  of  malicious  meaning. 

"Very  true,  Barton — the  question  is 
most  pertinent." 

"When  I  said  loyalty,  sir,"  said  1,  in 
answer,  "I  confess  I  did  not  express  my- 
self as  clearly  as  I  intended.  I  nu  ant. 
however,  that  an  Irishman,  and  a  subject 
of  his  Majesty  George  III.,  as  I  now  am, 
no  act  of  mine  in  the  French  service  ever 
compromised  me." 

"  Why,  surely,  you  fought  against  the 
allies  of  your  own  country.'' 

"True,  sir.  I  speak  only  with  reference 
to  the  direct  interests  of  England.  I  was  a- 
soldier  of  the  Emperor,  but  never  a  spy 
under  his  government." 

"  Ycur  name  is  amongst  those  who  never 
claimed  the  indemnity.     How  is  this  ?  " 

"I  never  heard  of  it.  I  never  knew 
such  an  act  was  necessary.  I  am  not  guilty 
of  any  crime,  nor  do  I  see  any  reason  to 
seek  a  favor. " 

"  Well,  well  ;  the  gracious  intentions  of 
the  Crown  lead  us  to  look  leniently  on  the 
past.  A  moderate  bail  for  your  appearance 
when  called  on,  and  your  own  recognisan- 
ces for  the  same  object,  will  suffice.'' 

"I  am  quite  willing  to  do  the  latter  ;  but 
as  to  bail,  I  repeat  it,  I  have  not  one  I 
could  ask  fi*r  such  a  service." 

"No  relative  ?— no  friend  ?  " 

"Come,  come,  young  gentleman,"  said 
M'Dougall,  speaking  for  the  .first  time, 
"recollect  yourself.  Try  if  you  can't  re- 
member some  one  who  would  assist  you  at 
this  conjuncture." 

Basset  was  the  only  name  I  could  think 
of,  and  however  absurd  the  idea  of  a  ser- 
vice from  such  a  quarter,  I  deemed  that,  as 
my  brother's  agent,  he  would  scarce  refuse 
me.  I  thought  that  Barton  gave  a  very 
peculiar  grin  as  I  mentioned  the  name  ; 
but  my  own  securities  being  entered  into, 
and  a  few  formal  questions  answered,  I  was 
told  I  was  at  liberty  to  seek  out  the  bail 
required. 

Once  more  in  the  streets,  I  turned  my 
steps  toward  Basset's  house,  where  I  hoped, 
at  all  events,  to  learn  some  tidings  of  my 
brother.  I  was  not  long  in  arriving  at  the 
street,  and  speedily  recognized  the  old 
house,  whose  cobwebbed  windows  and  un- 
washed look  reminded  me  of  former  times. 
The  very  sound  of  the  heavy  iron  knocker 
awoke  its  train  of  recollections  ;  and  when 


o'88 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


the  door  was  opened,  and  I  saw  the  nar- 
row hall,  with  its  cracked  lamp,  and  damp, 
discolored  walls,  the  old  heart-sinking  with 
which  they  once  inspired  me  came  hack 
again,  and  I  tnoughi  of  Tony  Basset,  when 
his  very  name  was  a  thing  of  terror  to  me. 

Mr.  Basset,  I  was  told,  was  at  court,  and 
I  wasrshown  into  the  office  to  await  his  re- 
turn. The  gloomy  little  den,  I  knew  it 
well,  with  its  dirty  shelves  of  dirtier  pa- 
pers, its  old  tin  boxes,  and  its  rickety  desk, 
at  which  two  meanly-dressed  starveling 
youths  were  busy  writing.  They  turned  a 
rapid  glance  toward  me  as  I  entered  ;  and, 
as  they  resumed  their  occupation,  I  could 
hear  a  muttered  remark  upon  my  dress  and 
appearance,  the  purport  of  which  I  did  not 
catch. 

I  sat  for  some  time  patiently,  expecting 
Basset's  arrival,  but,  as  the  time  stole  by, 
I  grew  wearied  with  waiting,  and  deter- 
mined on  ascertaining,  if  I  might,  from 
the  clerks,  some  intelligence  concerning  my 
brother. 

"Have  you  any  business  with  Mr. 
Burke  ?  "  said  the  youth  I  addressed,  while 
his  features  assumed  an  expression  of,  vul- 
gar jocularity. 

"  Yes,"  was  my  brief  reply. 

"  Wouldn't  a  letter  do  as  well  as  a  per- 
sonal interview  ?"  said  the  other,  with  an 
air  of  affected  courtesy. 

"Perhaps  so,"  I  replied,  too  deeply  en- 
gaged in  my  own  thoughts  to  mind  their 
flippant  impertinence. 

"  Then  mind  you  direct  your  letter 
'Churchyard,  Loughrea  ; '  or,  if. you  want 
to  be  particular,  say,  '  Family  vault.'" 

"  Is  he  dead  ?    Is  George  dead  ?  " 

"That's  hard  to  say,"  interposed  the 
other,  "but  they've  buried  him,  that's 
certain." 

Like  a  stunning  blow,  the  shock  of  this 
news  left  me  unable  to  speak  or  hear.  A 
maze  of  confused  thoughts  crossed  and 
jostled  each  other  in  my  brain,  and  I  could 
neither  collect  myself,  nor  listen  to  what 
was  said  around  me.  My  first  clear  mem- 
ory was  of  a  thousand  little  childish  traits 
of  love  which  had  once  passed  between  us. 
Tokens  of  affection  long  forgotten  now 
rushed  freshly  to  my  mind  ;  and  he  whom, 
a  moment  before,  I  had  condemned  as 
•  wanting  in  all  brotherly  feeling,  I  now 
sorrowed  for  with  true  grief.  The  low 
and  vulgar  insolence  of  the  speakers  made 
no  impression  on  me  ;  and  when,  in  answer 
to  my  questions,  they  narrated  the  manner 
of  his  death — a  fever  contracted  after  some 
debauch  at  Oxford — I  only  heard  the  tid- 
ings, but  did  not  notice  the  unfeeling  tone 
it  was  conveyed  in.     My  brother  dead  ! — 


(he  only  one  of  kith  or  kindred  belonging 
to  me.  How  slight  the  tie  seemed  but  a 
few  moments  back  !  What  would  I  not 
give  for  it  now  ?  Then,  for  the  first  time, 
did  I  know  how  the  heart  can  heap  up  its 
stores  of  consolation  in  secrecy  ;  and  how 
unconsciously  the  mind  can  dwell  on  hopes 
it  has  never  confessed  even  to  itself  !  1  low 
I  fancied  to  myself  our  meeting,  and 
thought  over  the  long  pent-up  affection 
years  of  absence  had  accumulated,  now 
flowing  in  a  gushing  stream  from  heart  to 
heart !  The  grave  was  indeed  hallowed 
when  the  grass  of  the  churchyard  can  cov- 
er all  memory,  save  that  of  love.  We 
dwell  on  every  good  gift  ^  the  lost'one,  as 
though  no  unworthy  thought  could  cross 
that  little  mound  of  earth — the  barrier  be- 
tween two  worlds  !  Sad  and  sorrow-struck, 
I  covered  my  face  with  my  hands,  and  did 
not  notice  that  Mr.  Basset  had  entered, 
and  taken  his  place  at  the  desk. 

His  voice,  every  harsh  tone  of  which  I 
well  remembered,  first  made  me  aware  of  his 
presence.  I  lifted  my  eyes,  and  there  he 
stood,  little  changed,  indeed,  since  I  had 
seen  him  last.  The  hard  lines  about  the 
mouth  had  grown-  deeper,  the  brow  more 
furrowed,  and  the  hair  more  mixed  with 
gray,  but  in  other  respects  he  was  the 
same.  As  I  gazed  at  him  I  could  not  help 
fancying  that  time  makes  less  impression 
on  men  of  coarse,  unfeeling  mold,  than 
on  natures  of  a  finer  temper.  The  world's 
changes  leave  no  trace  on  the  stern  surface 
of  the  one,  while  they  are  wearing  deep 
tracks  of  sorrow  in  the  other. 

"  Insert  the  advertisement  again,  Simms," 
said  he,  addressing  one  of  the  clerks,  "and 
let  it  appear  in  some  paper  of  the  seaport 
towns.  Among  the  Flemish  or  French 
smugglers  who  frequent  them  there  might 
be  some  one  to  give  the  information;  They 
must  be  able  to  show  that  though  Thomas 
Burke—" 

I  started  at  the  sound  of  my  name.  The 
motion  surprised  him — he  looked  round 
and  perceived  me.  Quick  and  piercing  as 
his  glance  was,  I  could  not  trace  any  sign 
of  recognition,  although,  as  he  scanned  my 
features,  and  suffered  his  eyes  to  wander 
over  my  dress,  I  perceived  that  his  was  no 
mere  chance  or  cursory  observation. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  he,  at  length,  "  is  your 
business  hero  with  me  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  I  would  speak  with  you  in 
private." 

"Come in  here,  then.  Meanwhile,  Sam, 
make  out  that  deed — for  we  may  go  orr  with- 
out the  proof  of  demise." 

Few  and  vague  a§i  the  words  were,  their 
real  meaning  flashed  on  me,  and  I  perceived 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


589 


that  Mr.  Basset  was  engaged  in  the  search 
of  some  evidence  of  my  death,  doubtless, 
to  enable  the  heir-at-law  to  succeed  to  the 
estates  of  my  brother.  The  momenl  the 
idea  struck  me,  I  felt  assured  of  its  certain- 
ty, and  at  once  determined  on  the  plan  I 
•     should  adopt. 

"  You  have  inserted  an  advertisement  re- 
garding a  Mr.  Burke,"  said  I,  as  soon  a.-;  the 
door  was  closed,  and  we  were  alone  together 
— "what  are  the  particular  circumstances 
of  which  you  desire  proof  ?" 

"  The  place,  date,  and  manner  of  his 
death,"  replied  he,  slowly — "for,  though 
informed  that  such  occurred  abroad,  an 
authentic  evidence  of  the  fact  will  save  some 
trouble.  Circumstances  to  identify  the  in- 
dividual with  the  person  we  mean,  of  course, 
must  be  offered — showing  whence  he  came, 
his  probable  age,  and  so  on.  For  this  in- 
telligence I  am  prepared  to  pay  liberally — at 
least  a  hundred  pounds  may  be  thought  so." 

"  It  is  a  question  of  succession  to  some 
property,  I  have  heard." 

"  Yes  ;  but  the  information  is  not  of  such 
moment  as  you  may  suppose."  replied  he, 
quickly — and,  with  the  wariness  of  his  call- 
ing, anticipating  the  value  I  might  be  dis- 
posed to  place  on  my  intelligence — "  we 
are  satisfied  with  the  fact  of  the  death  ; 
and  even,  were  it  otherwise,  the  individual 
most  concerned  is  little  likely  to  disprove 
the  belief — his  own  reasons  will,  probably, 
keep  him  from  visiting  Ireland." 

"  Indeed  ! ""  I  exclaimed,  the  word  es- 
caping my  lips  ere  I  could  check  its  utter- 
ance. 

"Even  so,"  resumed  he;  "but  this,  of 
course,  has  no  interest  for  you.  Your  ac- 
cent bespeaks  you  a  foreigner — have  you 
any  information  to  offer  on  this  "matter  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  if  we  speak  of  the  same  individ- 
ual who  may  have  left  this  country  about 
1800,  as  a  hoy  of  some  fourteen  years  of  age, 
and  entered  the  Ecole  Poly  technique  of 
Paris."      , 

"  Like  enough.  Continue,  if  you  please 
— what  became  of  him  afterward  ?  " 

"  He  joined  the  French  service,  attained 
the  rank  of  captain,  and  then  left  the  army 
— came  back  to  Ireland — and  now,  sir, 
stands  before  you." 

Mr.  Basset  never  changed  a  muscle  of  his 
face  as  I  made  this  declaration.  So  un- 
moved, so  stolid  was  his  look,  that  for  a 
moment  or  two  I  believed  him  incredulous 
of  my  story  ;  but  this  impression  soon  gave 
way,  as  with  his  eyes  bent  on  me,  he  said  : 

"  I  knew  you,  sir,  I  knew  you  the  moment 
I  passed  you  in  the  office  without — but  it 
might  have  fored  ill  with  you  to  have  let 
my  recognition  appear." 


"As  how  ? — I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  My  clerks  there  might  have  given  in- 
formation for  the  sake  of  the  reward — and 
once  in  Newgate,  there  was  an  end  of  all 
negotiation." 

"You  must  speak  more  intelligibly,  sir, 
if  you  wish  me  to  comprehend  you.  I  am 
unaware  of  any  circumstance  which  should 
threaten  me  with  such  a  fate 

"Have  yon  forgotten  Captain  Crofts — 
Montague  Crofts?**  said  Basset,  in  a  low 
whisper,  while  a  smile  of  insulting  malice 
crossed  his  features. 

"No;  I  remember  him  well — what  of 
him  ?  " 

"  What  of  him  !  He  charges  you  with  a 
capital  felony — a  crime  for  which  the  laws 
have  little  pity  here,  whatever  your  French 
habits  may  have  taught  you  to  regard  it. 
Yes — the  attempt  to  assassinate  an  oificer 
in  his  majesty's  service,  wh.cn  foiled  by  him 
in  an  effort  to  seduce  the  soldiery,  is  an  of- 
fense which  might  have  a  place  in  'your 
memory." 

"Can  the  man  be  base  enough  to  make 
such  a  charge  as  this  against  me—  a  boy,  as 
I  then  was  ?  " 

"You  were  not  alone — remember  that 
fact." 

"True  ;  and  most  thankful  am  I  for  it. 
There  is  one,  at  least,  can  prove  my  inno- 
cence, if  1  can  but  discover  him." 

"You  will  find  that  a  matter  of  some 
difficulty.  Your  worthy  friend  and  early 
preceptor  was  transported  five  years  since."' 

"  Poor  fellow — i  could  better  bear  to  hear 
that  he  was  dead." 

"  There  are  many  of  your  opinion  on  that 
head,*'  said  Basset,  with  a  savage  grin  ; 
"  but  the  fellow  was  too  cunning  for  all  the 
lawyers — and  his  conviction,  at  last,  was 
only  effected  by  a  stratagem." 

"  A  stratagem  !  "  exclaimed  I,  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"  It  was  neither  more  nor  less.  Darby 
was  arraigned  four  several  times,  but  al- 
ways acquitted.  ■  Now,  it  was  defective 
evidence — now,  a  lenient  jury — now,  an  in- 
formal indictment — but  so  was  it,  lie  es- 
caped the  meshes  of  the  law,  though  every 
one  knew  him  guilty  of  a  hundred  offenses. 
At  last,  Major  Barton  resolved  on  another 
expedient.  Darby  was  arrested  in  Ennis — 
thrown  into  jail — kept  four  weeks  in  a  dark 
cell,  on  prison  fare — and  at  the  end,  one 
morning,  the  hangman  appeared  to  say  his 
hom"was  come,  and  that  the  warrant  for  his 
execution  had  arrived.  It  was  to  take  place, 
without  judge  or  jury,  within  the  four 
walls  of  the  jail.  The  scheme  succeeded — 
his  courage  fell — and  he  offered,  if  his  life 
was  spared,  to  plead  guilty  to  any  trans- 


b90 


CHARLES  LEVERs  WORKS. 


portable  folon}%  for  which  the  grand  jury 
would  send  up  true  bills.  He  did  so,  and 
was  then  undergoing  the  sentence." 

"  Greal  Heavens  i  and  can  such  iniquity 
be  tolerated  ina  land  where meu  call  them- 
i  [yes  Christians  ?"  exclaimed  I,  as  I  heard 
this  to  the  end. 

"Iniquity!"  repeated  he,  in  mockery, 
"to  rid  the  country  of  a  ruffian,  stained 
with  every  crime— a  fellow  mixed  up  in 
every  outrage  in  the.  land.  Is  this  your 
notion  of  iniquity  ?  Not  so  do  I  reckon  it ; 
and  if  I  have  told  you  of  it  now,  it  is  that 
you  may  learn,  that  when  loyal  and  well- 
affected  men  are  trusted  with  the  execution 
of  the  laws,  the  principle  of  justice  is  of 
more  moment  than  the  nice  distinction  of 
legal  subtleties.  You  may  learn  a  lesson 
from  it  worth  acquiring." 

"I!  how  can  it  affect  me  or  my  for- 
tunes ?  " 

"More  nearly  than  you  think.  I  have 
told  -you  of  the  accusation  which  hangs 
over  your  head ;  weigh  it  well,  and  deli- 
berate what  are  your  chances  of  escape. 
We  must  not  waste  time  in  discussing  your 
innocence.  The  jury  who  will  try  the 
cause  will  be  more  difficult  of  belief  than 
you  suspect.  Neither  the  opinions  you  are 
charged  with,  your  subsequent  escape,  nor 
your  career  in  France,  will  contribute  to 
your  exculpation,  even  had  you  evidence  to 
adduce  in  your  favor  ;  but  you  have  not. 
Your  only  witness  is  equally  removed,  as 
by  death  itself.  On  what  do  you  depend, 
then  ?  Conscious  innocence !  Nine  out 
of  every  ten  who  mount  the  scaffold  pro- 
claim the  same  ;  but  I  never  heard  that  the 
voice  that  cried  it  stifled  the  word  'guilty.' 
No,  sir.  I  tell  you,  solemnly,  you  will  be 
condemned  ! " 

The  tone  of  his  voice,  as  he  spoke  the 
last  few  words,  made  my  Aery  blood  run 
cold.  The  death  of  a  soldier  on  the  field 
of  battle  had  no  terrors  for  me — but  the 
execrated  fate  of  a  felon  I  could  not  con- 
front. The  pallor  of  my  cheek,  the  trem- 
bling of  my  limbs,  must  hafe  betrayed  my 
emotion — for  even  Basset  seemed  to  pity 
me,  and  pressed  me  down  into  a  chair. 
'  "  There  is  one  way,  however,  to  avoid 
all  the  danger,"  said  he,  after  a  pause — 
"an  easy  and  a  certain  way  both.  You 
have  heard  of  the  advertisements  for  infor- 
mal ion  respecting  your  death,  which  it  was 
surmised  had  occurred  abrcad.  Now,  yon 
are  unknown  here — without  a  single  .ac- 
quaintance to  recognize  or  remember  you 
— 'why  should  not  you,  under  another 
name,  came  forward  with  these  proofs  ? 
By  so  doing,  you  secure  your  own  escape, 
and  can  claim  the  reward. " 


"What,  perjure  myself,  that  I  may  for- 
feit  my  inheritance  !" 

"As  to  the  inheritance,"  said  he,  Bne<  r- 
ingly,  "your  tenure  does  not  promise  a 
\<  i  \  long  enjoA  mi ni  of  it." 

'•Were  it  but  a  day  -an  hour!"'  ex- 
claimed r,  passionately,  "I  will  make  no 
compromise  with  my  honor.  On  their  own 
heads  be  it.  who  sentence  an  innocent  man 
to  death — better  such  even  on  a  scaffold, 
than  a  life  of  ignominy  and  vain  regret." 

"The  dark  hours  of  a  jail  change  men's 
sentiments  wonderfully,"  said  he,  slowly. 
"I  have  known  some  who  faced  death  m 
its  wildest  and  most  appalling  shape,  shrink 
from  it  like  cowards  when  it  came  in  the 
guise  of  a  common  executioner.  Come, 
sir,  be  advised  by  me,  reflect  at  least  on 
what  I  have  said,  and  if  there  be  any  path 
in  life,  where  a  moderate  sum  may  assist 
you—" 

"Peace,  sir — I  beg  of  you  to  be  silent  : 
it  may  be  that  your  co'unsel  is  prompted  by 
kindly  feeling  toward  me ;  but,  if  you 
would  have  me  think  so,  say  no  more  of 
this — my  mind  is  made  up." 

"Wait  until  to-morrow,  in  any  case; 
perhaps  some  other  plan  may  suggest  itself. 
What  say  you  to  America — have  you  any 
objection  to  go  there  ?" 

"  Had  you  asked  me  the  question  an 
hour  since,  I  had  replied,  'None  what- 
ever.' Now  it  is  different;  my  departure 
would  be  like  the  flight  of  a  guilty  man. 
I  cannot  do  it." 

"Better  the  flight,  than  the  fate  of  one," 
muttered  Basset,  between  his  teeth,  while 
at  the  same  instant  the  sdund  of  voices 
talking  loudly  together  was  heard  in  the 
hall  without. 

"Think  again,  before  it  is  too  late  ;  re- 
member what  I  have  told  you  :  your  opin- 
ions, your  career,  your  associates,  are  not 
such  as  to  recommend  you  to  the  favorable 
consideration  of  a  jury.  Is  your  case 
strong  enough  to  oppose  all  these  ?  Sir 
Montague  will  make  liberal  terms— he  has 
no  desire  to  expose  the  calamities  of  a 
family." 

"Sir  Montague ! — of  whom  do  you 
speak  ? " 

"Sir  Montague  Crofts,"  said  Basset, 
reddening,  for  he  had  unwittingly  suffered 
the  name  to  escape  his  lips.  "Are  you 
ignorant  that  he  is  your  relative — a  disti 
one,  it  is  true — but  your  nearest  of  km 
notwith  standi  ng." 

"And  the  heir  to  the  estate  ? "  said  I, 
suddenly,  as  a  new  light  flashed  on  my 
mind.  "The  heir,  in  the  event  of  my  life 
lapsing  ?  "     Basset  nodded  an  assent, 

"You  played  a  deep  game,  sir,"  said  I, 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


591 


drawing  a  long  breath,  "but  you  never 
were  near  winning  it." 

"±\or  you  either,"  said  he,  throwing 
wide  the  door  between  the  two  rooms.  "I 
hear  a  voice  without  there,  that  settles  the 
question  forever." 

At  the  same  instant,  Major  Barton  en- 
tered, followed  by  two  men. 

"I  suspected  I  should  find  you  here, 
sir,"  said  he,  addressing  me.  "You  need 
scarcely  trouble  my  worthy  friend  for  his 
bail.  I  arrest  you  now  under  a  warrant  of 
felony. " 

"A  felony!"  exclaimed  Basset,  with  a 
counterfeited  astonishment  in  his  look. 
"  Mr.  Burke  accused  of  such  a  crime  ! " 

I  could  not  utter  a  word — indignation 
and  shame  overpowered  me,  and,  merely 
motioning  with  my  hand  that  I  was  ready 
to  accompany  him,  I  followed  to  the  door, 
at  which  a  carriage  was  standing,  getting 
into  which  we  drove  toward  Newsrate. 


CHAPTER    LXXXI. 

THE   PERIL  AVERTED. 

If  I  have  dwelt  with  unnecessary  prolixity 
on  this  dark  portion  of  my  story,  it  is  be- 
cause the  only  lesson  my  life  teaches  has 
lain  in  similar  passages.  The  train  of  evils 
which  flows  from  one  misdirection  in  early 
life,  the  misfortunes  which  ensue  from  a 
single  false  and  inconsiderate  step,  fre- 
quently darken  the  whole  subsequent  career. 
This  I  now  thought  over  in  the 'solitude  of 
my  cell.  However  I  could  acquit  myself 
of  the  crime  laid  to  my  charge,  I  could  not 
so  easily  absolve  my  heart  of  the  early  folly 
which  made  me  suppose  that  the  regenera- 
tion of  a  land  should  be  accomplished  by 
the  efforts  of  a  sanguinary  and  bigoted  rab- 
ble. To  this  error  could  I  trace  every  false 
step  I  made  in  life — to  this  cause  attribute 
the  long  struggle  I  endured  between  my 
love  of  liberty  and  my  detestation  of  mob 
rule;  and  yet  how  many  years  did  it  cost 
me  to  learn,  that  to  alleviate  the  burdens 
of  the  oppressed  may  demand  a  greater  ex- 
ercise of  tyranny  than  ever  their  rulers 
fracticed  toward  them,  Like  many  others, 
looked  to  France  as  the  land  of  freedom — 
but  where  was  despotism  so  unbounded  ! 
where  the  sway  of  one  great  mind  so  un- 
limited !  They  had  bartered  liberty  for 
equality,  and  because  the  pressure  was  equal 
on  all,  they  deemed  themselves  free  ;  while 
the  privileges  of  class  with  us  suggested  the 
sense  of  bondage  to  the  poor  man,  whose 
actual  freedom  was  yet  unincumbered. 


Of  all  the  day-dreams  of  my  boyhood, 
the  ambition  of  military  glory  alone  sur- 
vived, and  that  lived  on  amid  th<  dreary 
solitude  of  my  prison,  comforting  m 
lonely  hour  by  memories  of  the  past.  The 
•ing  ranks  of  the  mounted  squadrons, 
the  deep-toned  thunder  of  the  artillery,  the 
solid  masses  of  the  infantry,  immovable  be- 
neath the  rush  of  cavalry,  were  pictures  1 
could  dwell  on  for  hours  and  days  ;  and  my 
clearest  wish  could  point  to  no  higher  des- 
tiny than  to  be  once  more  a  soldier  in  the 
ranks  of  France. 

During  all  this  time  my  mind  seldom 
reverted  to  the  circumstances,  of  my  im- 
prisonment, nor  did  I  feel  the  anxiety  for 
the  result  my  position  might  well  have  sug- 
gested. The  conscious  sense  of  my  inno- 
cence kept  the  flame  of  hope  alive,  without 
suffering  it  either  to  flicker  or  vary.  It 
burned  like  a  steady  fire  within  me,  and 
made  even  the  dark  cells  of  a  jail  a  place 
of  repose  and  tranquility.  And  thus  time 
rolled  on,  the  hours  of  pleasure  and  happi- 
ness to  thousands,  too  short  and  flitting  for 
the  enjoyments  they  brought.  They  went 
by,  also,  to  the  prisoner  as  to  one  who  waits 
on  the  bank 'of  the  stream,  nor  knows  what 
fortune  may  await  him  on  his  voyage.  A 
stubborn  feeling  of  conscious  right  had 
prevented  my  taking  even  the  ordinary  steps 
for  my  defense,  and  the  day  of  trial  was  now 
drawing  nigh,  without  any  preparation  on 
!  my  part.'  I  was  ignorant  how  essential  the 
1  habits  and  skill  of  an  advocate  are  in  the 
conduct  of  every  case,  however  simple,  and 
!  implicitly  relied  on  my  guiltlessness,  as 
'  though  men  can  read  the  heart  of  a  pris- 
I  oner  and  know  its  workings. 

M'Dougall,  the  only  member  of  the  bar 
I  knew  even  by  name,  had  accepted  a  ju- 
dicial appointment  in  India,  and  was  al- 
ready on  his  way  thither,  so  that  I  had 
neither  friend  nor  adviser  in  my  difficult}-. 
Were  it  otherwise,  I  felt  I  could  scarcely 
have  bent  my  pride  to  that  detail  of  petty 
circumstances  which  an  advocate  might 
deem  essential  to  my  vindication,  and  was 
actually  glad  to  think  that  I  should  owe 
the  assertion  of  my  innocence  to  nothing 
less  than  the  pure  fact. 

When  November  at  length  arrived,  I 
learned  that  the  trial  had  been  deferred  to 
the  following  February  ;  and  so  listless  and 
indifferent  had  imprisonment  made  me, 
that  I  heard  the  intelligence  without  im- 
patience or  regret.  The  publicity  of  a 
court  of  justice,  its  exposure  to  the  gaze 
and  observation  of  the  crowd  who  .throng 
there,  were  subjects  of  more  shrinking 
dread  to  my  heart  than  the  weight  of  an 
accusation  which,  though  false,  might  peril 


592 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


my  life,  and  for  the  first  time  I  rejoiced 
thai  I  was  friendless.  Yes,  it  brought  balm 
and  comfort  to  me  to  think  that  none  would 
need  to  blush  at  my  relationship,  nor  weep 
over  my  fate.  Sorrow  has  surely  eaten 
deeply  into  our  natures,  when  we  deri  re 
pleasure  and  peace  from  what,  in  happier 
circum  tances,  are  the  sources  of  regret. 

Let  me  now  hasten  on.  My  reader  will 
readily  forgive  me  if  I  pass  with  rapid  steps 
over  a  portion  of  my  story,  the  memory  of 
which  has  not  yet  lost  its  bitterness.  The 
day  at  last  came,  and  amid  all  the  cere- 
monies of  a  prison  I  was  marched  from  my 
cell  to  the  dock.  How  strange  the  sudden 
revolution  of  feeling,  from  the  solitude  and 
silence  of  a  jail  to  the  crowded  court, 
teeming  with  looks  of  eager  curiosity,  dread, 
or  perhaps  compassion,  all  turned  toward 
him,  who  himself,  half  forgetful  of  his  con- 
dition, gazes  on  the  great  mass  in  equal 
astonishment  and  surprise. 

My  thoughts  at  once  recurred  to  a  former 
moment  of  my  life,  when  I  stood  accused 
among  the  Chouan  prisoners  before  the  tri- 
bunal of  Paris ;  but  though  the  proceed- 
ings wrere  less  marked  by  excitement  and 
passion,  the  stern  gravity  of  the  English 
procedure  was  far  more  appalling  ;  and  in 
the  absence  of  all  which  could  stir  the 
spirit  to  any  effort  of  its  own,  it  pressed 
with  a  more  solemn  dread  on  the  mind  of  a 
prisoner. 

I  have  said  I  would  not  linger  qjver  this 
part  of  my  life.  I  could  not  do  so  if  I 
would.  Eeal  events,  and  the  impressions 
they  made  upon  me — -facts,  and  the  passing 
emotions  of  my  mind,  are  strangely  con- 
fused and  commingled  in  my  memory  ;  and 
although  certain  minute  and  trivial  things 
are  graven  in  my  recollection,  others  of 
moment  have  escaped  me  unrecorded. 

The  usual  ceremonial  went  forward,  the 
jury  were  impanneled,  and  the  clerk  of 
the  Crown  read  aloud  the  indictment,  to 
which  my  plea  of  "Not  Guilty"  was  at 
once  recorded.  Then  the  judge  asked  if  I 
were  provided  with  counsel,  and  hearing 
that  I  was  not,  appointed  a  junior  barrister 
to  act  for  me,  and  the  trial  began. 

I  was  not  the  first  person  who,  accused 
of  a  crime  of  which  he  felt  innocent,  yet 
was  so  overwhelmed  by  the  statements  of 
imputed  guilt — so  confused  by  the  inextri- 
cable web  of  truth  and  falsehood,  artfully 
intangled,  that  he  actually  doubted  his 
own  convictions,  when  opposed  to  views  so 
strongly  at  variance  with  them. 
.  The  first  emotion  of  the  prisoner  is  a 
feeling  of  surprise  to  discover  that  one  ut- 
terly a  stranger — the  lawyer  he  has,  per- 
haps, never  seen — whose  name  he  never  so 


1  much  as  heard  of— is  perfectly  conversant 
with  his  own  history,  and,  as  it  were  by  in- 
tuition, seems  acquainted  with  his  very 
thoughts  and  motives.  Tracing  out  not 
only  a  line  of  acting,  but  of  devising,  he 
conceives  a  story  of  which  the  accused  is 
the  hero,  and  invests  his  narrative  with  the 
appliances  to  belief  which  result  from  time, 
and  place,  and  circumstance. 

No  wonder  that  the  very  accusation 
should  strike  terror  into  the  soul.  No 
wonder  that  the  statemeni  of  guilt  should 
cause  heart-sinking  to  him  who.  conscious 
that  all  is  not  untrue,  may  feel  that  Ins  ac- 
tions can  be  viewed  in  another  and  a  very 
different  light  to  that  which  conscience 
sheds  aver  them. 

Such,  so  far  as  I  remember,  was  the 
channel  of  my  thoughts.  At  first  mere 
astonishment  at  the  accuracy  of  detail  re- 
garding my  name,  age,  and  condition  in 
life,  was  uppermost,  and  then  succeeded  a 
sense  of  indignant  anger  at  the  charges 
laid  against  me,  which  yielded  gradually 
to  a  feeling  of  confusion  as  the  advocate 
continued,  which  again  merged  into  a  sort 
of  dubious  fear  as  I  heard  many  trivial  facts 
repeated,  some  of  which  my  refreshed 
memory  acknowledged  as  true,  but  of 
which  my  puzzled  brain  could  not  detect 
the  inapplicability  to  sustain  the  accusa- 
tion— all  ending' in  a  chaos  of  bewilder- 
ment, where  conscience  itself  was  lost,  and 
nothing  left  to  guide  or  direct  the  reason. 

The  counsel  informed  the  jury,  that  al- 
though they  were  not  placed  in  the  box  to 
try  me  on  any  charge  of  a  political  offense. 
they  must  bear  in  mind  that  the  murder- 
ous assault  of  which  I  was  accused  was 
merely  part  of  a  system  organized  to  over- 
throw the  government  ;  that,  young  as  I 
then  was,  I  was  in  intimate  connection 
with  the  disaffected  party,  which  the  mis- 
taken leniency  of  the  Crown  had  not 
thoroughly  eradicated  on  the  termination 
of  the  late  rebellion,  my  constant  compan- 
ion being  one  whose  crimes  were  already 
undergoing  their  but  too  merciful  punish- 
ment in  transportation  for  life  ;  that,  to 
tamper  with  the  military,  I  had  succeeded 
in  introducing  myself  into  the  barrack, 
where  I  obtained  the  confidence  of  a  weak- 
minded  but  good-natured  officer  of  the 
regiment. 

"These  schemes,"  continued  he,  "were 
but  partially  successful.  My  distinguished 
client  was  then  an  officer  of  the  corps,  and 
with  that  ever-watchful  loyalty  which  has 
distinguished  him,  he  determined  to  keep 
a  vigilant  eye  on  this  intruder,  who,  from 
circumstances  of  youth  and  apparent  inno- 
cence, already  had  won  upon  the  confidence 


THEN     AGAIN     THE    IDEA    FLASHED    UPON    ME,    THAT    DEATH    INEVITABLE    AWAITED    ME,    AND 
'i    FANCIED    IN    THE   SINGING   BILLOWS    I    COULD    HEAK   THE   WILD   SHOUTS   OF   DEMONS 
REJOICING   OVER   MV   DOOM.        (P.  578.) 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


593 


of  the  majority  of  the  regiment ;  nor  was 
this  impression  ;i  false  one.  An  event,  ap- 
parently little  likely  to  unvail  ;i  treasonable 
iritent  ion,  soon  unmasked  I  he  true  charac- 
ter of  the  prisoner  and  the  nature  of  his 
mission." 

Ee  then  proceeded  to  narrate  with  cir- 
cumstantial accuracy  the  night  in  the 
George's  street  barracks,  when  Billiard, 
Crofts,  and  some  others  came  with  Bub- 
bleton  to  his  quarters  to  decide  a  wa£er  be- 
tween two  of  the  parties.  Calling  the  at- 
tention of  the  jury  to  this  part  of  the  case, 
he  detailed  the  scene  which  occurred,  and 
if  I  could  trust  my  memory,  not  a  phrase, 
not  a  word  escaped  him,  which  had  been 
said. 

"It  was  then,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "at 
that  instant,  that  the  prisoner's  habitual 
caution  failed  him,  and  an*  unguarded 
moment  developed  the  full  story  of  his 
guilt.  Captain  Bubblcton  lost  the  wager, 
of  which  my  client  was  the  winner.  The 
habits  of  the  service  are  peremptory  in 
these  matters  ;  it  was  necessary  that  pay- 
ment should  be  made  at  once.  Bubbleton 
had  not  the  means  of  discharging  his  debt, 
and  while  he  looked  around  among  his 
comrades  for  assistance,  the  prisoner  steps 
forward- and  supplies  the  sum.  Mark  what 
followed.  A  sudden  call  of  service  now  sum- 
moned the  officers  beneath,  all  save  Crofts, 
who,  not  being  on  duty,  had  no  necessity 
for  accompanying  them. 

"  The  bank-note  so  opportunely  furnish- 
ed by  the  prisoner  lay  on  the  table,  and 
this  Crofts  proceeded  leisurely  to  open  and 
examine  before  he  left  the  room.  Slowly 
unfol  Ling  the  paper,  he  spread  it  out  be- 
fore him,  and  what,  think  you,  gentlemen, 
did  the  paper  display  ?  A  Bank  of  Eng- 
land bill  for  twenty  pounds,  you'll  say,  of 
course.  Far  from  it,  indeed  !  The  paper 
was  a  French  assignat,  bearing  the  words — 
'  Payez  au  porteur  la  somme  de  deux  m  ille 
Uvrcs.'  Yes,  the  sum  so  carelessly  thrown 
on  the  table  by  this  youth  was  an  order  for 
eighty  pounds  issued  by  the  French  gov- 
ernment. 

"  Remember  the  period,  gentlemen,  when 
this  occurred ;  we  had  just  passed  the 
threshold  of  a  most  fearful  and  sanguinary 
rebellion — the  tranquillity  of  the  land  scarce 
restored  after  a  convulsion  that  shook  the 
Very  constitution  and  the  throne  to  their 
centers — the  interference  of  France  in  the 
affairs  of  the  country  had  not  been  a  mere 
threat — her  ships  had  sailed,  her  armies 
had  landed,  and  though  the  bravery  and 
the  loyalty  of  our  troops  had  made  the  ex- 
pedition result  in  utter  defeat  and  over- 
throw, the  emissaries  of  the  land  and  of 
vol.  i. — 38 


anarchy  yet  lingered  on  our  Bhores,  and 
disseminated  that  treason  in  secret,  which 
opmly  i he\  dared  not  proclaim.     11'  they 

were    sparing    of    their    blood,    they     v. 
lavish  of  their  gold — what    they  failed   in 
courage  t  hey  supplied  in  a 
promises  of  gain,  rich  offers  of  booty,  w 
rife   throughoul    the    land,    and    wh<  r< 
disaffeei  ion   lurked,  or  r<  bellion*  lingered, 
the  enemy  of  England  found  congenial  al- 
lies.    Nothing   too  base,  nothing  too  low 
for  this  confederacy  of  crime  ;  neither  was 
anything    too    Iowlj    in    condition    or    too 
humble    in    efficiency.       T:       on    c 
choose  its  agents;  it    must    take  the   tools 
which   chance    and    circumsti  Her 

they  may  be  the  refuse  of  mankind,  but  if 
inefficient  for  good,  they* are  noi   tin- 
active' for  evil.      Such  a  one  was  the  yout] 
who  now  stands  a  prisoner  before  you,  and 
here  was  the  price  of  his  disloyalty."  • 

At  these  words  he  held  up  triumphantly 
the  French  assignat,  and  waved  it  before  the 
eyes  of  the  court.  However  little  the  cir- 
cumstances weighed  within  me,  such 
the  impression  manifestly  produced  upon 
the  jury  by  this  piece  of  corroborative  evi- 
dence, that  a  thrill  of  anxiety  for  the  re- 
ran suddenly  through  me. 

Until  that  moment  I  believed  Darby  had 
repossessed  himself  of  the  assignat  when 
Crofts  lay  insensible  on  the  ground 
least  I  remembered  well  that  he  stooped  over 
him, and  appeared  to  take  something  from 
him.  While  I  was  puzzling  my  mind  on 
this  point,  I  did  not  remark  that  the  lawyer 
was  proceeding  to  impress  on  the  jury  the 
full  force  of  conviction  such  a  circum- 
stance implied. 

The  offer  I  had  made  to  Crofts  to  barter 
the  assignat  for  an  English  note — my  urgent 
entreaty  to  have  it  restored  to  me — the 
arguments  Ihad  employed  to  persuade  him 
that  no  suspicion  could  attach  to  my  i 
session  of  it — were  all  narrated  with  so  little 
of  exaggeration,  that  I  was  actually  unable 
to  say  what  assertion  I  could  object  to, 
while  I  was  conscious  that  the  inferences 
sought  to  be  drawn  from  them  were  false 
and  unjust. 

Having  displayed  with  consummate  skill 
the  critical  position  this  paper  had  invol 
me  in,  he  took  the  opportunity  of  contr; 
ing   the   anxiety  I  evinced   for  in;. 
from  my  difficulty,  with  the  temperate  con- 
duct of  my  antagonist,  who-,'  loyalty  left 
him  no  other  course  than  to  retain  po£ 
sion    of    the    note,  and    inquire    into    the 
circumstances    by  which    it    reached    my 
hands. 

Irritated  by  the  steady  determination  of 
Crofts,  it  was  said  that  I  endeavored  by  op- 


594 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


probrious  epithets  and  insulting  language 
to  provoke  a  quarrel,  which  a  sense  of  my 
inferiority  as  an  antagonisl  rendered  ;i  thing 
impossible  to  be  thoughl  of.  Baffled  in 
every  way,  I  was  said  to  have  rushed  from 
the  room,  double-locking  it  on  the  outside, 
and  Hurried  down  the  stairs  and  out  of  the 
barrack,  not  to  escape,  however,  but  with 
a  purpose  Very  different — to  return  in  a  few 
moments  accompanied  by  three  fellows, 
whom  I  passed  with  the  guard  as  men  wish- 
ing to  recruit. 

To  ascend  the  stairs,  unlock  the  door, 
and  fall  on  the  imprisoned  officer,  was  the 
work  of  an  instant.  His  defense,  although 
courageous  and  resolute,  was  but  brief. 
His  sword  being  broken,  he  was  felled  by  a 
blow  of  a  bludgeon,  and  thus  believed 
dead.  The  ruffians  ransacked  his  pockets, 
and  departed. 

The  -same  countersign  which  admitted, 
passed  them  out  as  they  went,  and  when 
morning  broke  the  wounded  man  was  found 
weltering  in  his  blood,  but  with  life  still 
remaining,  and  strength  enough  to  recount 
what  had  occurred.  By  a  mere  accident, 
it  was  stated,  the  French  bank-note  had  not 
been  consigned  to  his  pocket,  but  fell  dur- 
ing the  struggle,  and  was  discovered  the 
next  day  on  the  floor. 

These  were  the  leading  features  of  an  ac- 
cusation, which,  however  improbable,  while 
thus  briefly  and  boldly  narrated,  hung  to- 
gether with  a  wonderful  coherence  in  the 
speech  of  the  lawyer,  supported  as  they 
were  by  the  number  of  small  circumstances 
*  corroboratory  of  certain  immaterial  portions 
of  the  story.  Thus,  the  political  opinions 
I  professed,  the  doubtful — nay,  equivocal — 
position  I-  occupied,  the  intercourse  with 
France  or  Frenchmen,  as  proved  by  the 
billet  de  banque,  my  sudden  disappearance 
after  the  event,  and  my  escape  thither, 
where  I  continued  to  live  until,  as  it  was 
alleged,  I  believed  that  years  had  eradicated 
all  trace  of,  .  if  not  my  crime,  myself, — 
such  were  the  statements  displayed  with  all 
the  specious  inferences  of  habitual  plausi- 
bility, and  to  confirm  which,  by  evidence, 
Sir  Montague  Crofts  was  called  to  give  his 
testimony. 

There  was  a  murmur  of  expectancy 
through  the  court  as  this  well-known  in- 
dividual's name  was  pronounced,  and  in  a 
few  moments  the  throng  around  the  inner 
bar  opened,  and  a  tall  figure  appeared  upon 
the  witness-table.  The  same  instant  that  I 
c  inglit  sight  of  his  features  he  had  turned 
his  glance  on  me,  and  we  stood  for  some 
seconds  confronting  each  other.  Mutual 
defiance  seemed  the  gage  between  us  ;  and 
I  saw,  with  a  thrill  of  savage  pleasure,  that, 


after  a  minute  or  so,  his  cheek  flushed,  and 
he  averted  his  face,  and  appeared  ill  at  ease 
and  uncomfortable. 

To  the  lirst  questions  of  the  lawyer  he 
answered  with  evident  constraint,  and  in  a 
low,  subdued  voice  ;  but  soon  recovering 
his  self-possession,  gave  his  testimcny.freely 
and  boldly,  corroborating  by  his  words  all 
the  statements  of  his  advocate.  By  both 
the  court  and  the  jury  he  was  heard  with 
attention  and  deference;  and  when  betook 
a  passing  occasion  to  allude  to  his  loyalty 
and  attachment  to  the  constitution,  the 
senior  judge  interrupted  him  by  saying, 

"  On  that  point,  Sir  Montague,  no  second 
opinion  can  exist.  Your  character  for  un- 
impeachable honor  is  well  known  to  the 
court." 

The  examination  was  brief  —  lasting 
scarcely  half  An  hour  ;  and  when  the  young 
lawyer  came  forward  to  put  some  questions 
as  cross-examination,  his  want  of  instruc- 
tion and  ignorance  were  at  once  seen,  and 
the  witness  was  dismissed  almost,  immedi- 
ately. 

Sir  Montague's  advocate  declined  calling 
any  other  witness.  The  regiment  to  which 
his  client  then  belonged  was  on  foreign  ser- 
vice, but  he  felt  satisfied  that  the  case  re- 
quired nothing  in  addition  to  the  evidence 
the  jury  had  heard. 

A  few  moments  of  deliberation  ensued 
among  the  members  of  the  bench,  and  then 
the  senior  judge  called  on  my  lawyer  to 
proceed  with  the  defense. 

The  young  barrister  rose  with  diffidence, 
and  expressed  in  few  words  his  inability  to 
rebut  the  statements  that  had  been  made 
by  any  evidence  in  his  power  to  produce. 
"The  prisoner,  my  lord.''  said  he,  "has 
confided  nothing  to  me  of  his  case.  I  am 
ignorant  of  everything,  save  what  has  taken 
place  in  open  court." 

"It  is  true,  my  lord,"  said  I,  interrupt- 
ing. "  The  facts  of  this  unhappy  circum- 
stance are  known  but  to  three  individuals. 
You  have  already  heard  the  version  which 
one  of  them  has  given  :  you  shall  now  hear 
mine.  The  third,  whose  testimony  might 
incline  the  balance  in  my  favor,  is,  I  am 
told,  no  longer  in  this  country  ;  and  I  have 
only  to  discharge  the  debt  I  feel  due  to  my- 
self, and  to  my  own  honor,  by  narrating 
the  real  occurrence,  and  leave  the  issue  in 
your  hands,  to  deal  with  as  your  con- 
sciences may  dictate." 

With  the  steadiness  of  purpose  truth  in- 
spires, and  in  few  words.I  narrated  the  whole 
of  my  adventure  Avith  Crofts,  down  to  the 
moment  of  Darby's  sudden  appearance.  I 
told  of  what  passed  between  us,  and  how 
the  altercation,  that  began  in  angry  words, 


TOM  BURKE   OF  ''OURS." 


595 


terminated  in  a  personal  struggle,  where, 
as  the  weaker,  1  was  overcome,  and  lay  be- 
neath the  weapon  of  my  antagonist,  by 
which  already  I   had  received  a  severe  and 

dangerous  wound. 

"I  should  hesitate  here,  my  lords,"  said 
I,  "  before  I  spoke  of  one  wiio  then  came 
to  my  aid,  if  1  did  not  know  that  he  is  al- 
ready removed  by  a  heavy  sentence,  both 
from  the  penalty  his  gallant  conduct  might 
call  down  on  him,  and  the  enmity  which 
the  prosecutor  would  as  certainly  pursue 
him  with  ;  but  he  is  beyond  the  reach  of 
either,  and  I  may  speak  of  him  freely." 

I  then  told  of  Darby's  appearance  (hat 
night  in  the  barrack,  disguised  as  a  ballad- 
singer  ;  how,  in  this  capacity,  he  passed 
the  sentry,  and  was  present  in  the  room 
when  the  officers  entered  to  decide  the 
wager ;  that  he  ,had  quitted  it  soon  after 
their  arrival,  and  only  returned  on  hearing 
the  noise  of  the  scuffle  between  Crofts  and 
myself.  The  struggle  itself  I  remembered 
but  imperfectly,  but,  so  far  as  my  memory 
bore  me  out,  recapitulated  to  the  court. 

"I  will  relate,  my  lords,"  said  I,  "the 
few  events  which  followed — not  that  they 
can  in  any  wise  corroborate  the  plain  state- 
ment I  have  made,  nor  indeed  that  they 
bear,  save  remotely,  on  the  events  men- 
tioned— but  I  Avill  do  so  in  the  hope — a 
faint  hope  it  is — that  in  this  court  there 
might  be  found  some  one  person  who  could 
add  his  testimony  to  mine,  and  say,  '  This 
is  true  ;  to  that  I  can  myself  bear  witness.'  " 

With  this  brief  preface,  I  told  how  Dar- 
by had  brought  me  to  a  house  in  an  obscure 
street,  in  which  a  man,  apparently  dying, 
was  stretched  upon  a  miserable  bed.  That 
while  my  wound  was  being  dressed,  a  car 
came  to  the  door,  with  the  intention  of 
conveying  the  sick  man  .away  somewhere. 
This,  however,  was  deemed  impossible,  so 
near  did  his  last  hour  appear  ;  and  in  his 
place  I  was  taken  off,  and  placed  on  board 
the  vessel  bound  for  France. 

"  Of  my  career  in  that  country  it  is 
needless  that  I  should  speak  ;  it  can  neith- 
er throw  light  upon  the  events  which  pre- 
ceded it,  nor  have  any  interest  for  .the 
court.  My  commission  as  a  captain  of  the 
Imperial  Hussars  may,  however,  testify  the 
position  that  I  occupied,  while  the  certifi- 
cate of  the  minister  of  war  on  the  back  will 
show  that  I  quitted  the  service  voluntarily, 
and  with  honor." 

"■The  court  would  advise  you,  sir,"  said 
the  judge,  "  not  to  advert  to  circumstances 
which,  while  they  contribute  nothing  to 
your  exculpation,  may  have  a  very  serious 
effect  on  the  minds  of  the  jury  againsi  yon. 
Have  you  any  witnesses  to  call  ?  " 


"None,  my  lord." 

A  pause  of  some  minutes  ensued,  when 

the  <»nly  sounds  in  ili:'  court  were  the  whis- 
pering tones  of  Crofts'   voice,   a-   he 
something  into  his  counsel's  ear.    The  law 

yer  rose. 

"My  task,  mj  lords,"  said  lie,  ' 
short  one.  Indeed,  in  all  probability,  I 
Deed  m»t-  trouble  either  your  Iordsh 
the  jury  with  an  additional  word  on  ;i  case 
\.  here  the  e\  idenee  bo  conclusively  estab- 
lishes the  guilt  oi  the  accused,  ana  where 
the  attempt  to  contradict  it  has  been  so 
abortive.  Never,  perhaps,  wasa  storynar- 
rated  within  the  walls  of  a  court  so  full  of 
improbable — mighl  I  not  almost  Bay  im- 
possible— events,  as  that  of  the  prisoner." 
He  then  recapitulated  with  rapid  but  tic- 
curate  detail  the  principal  circumstances 
of  my  story,  bestowing  some  brief  com 
on  each  as  he  went.  He  sneered  at  the 
account  of  the .  struggle,  and  turned  thi 
whole  description  of  the  contesi  with  I 
into  ridicule,  calling  on  the  jury  to  bi 
a  glance  on  the  manly  strength  and  vigo- 
rous proportions  of  his  client,  and  then  re- 
member the  age  of  his  antagonist — a  boy  of 
fourteen.  "  1  forgot,  gentlemen — I  ask 
your  pardon — he  confesses  to  one  all  v.  this 
famous  piper.  I  really  did  hope  that  was 
a  name  we  had  done  with  forever.  I  in- 
dulged the  dream,  that  among  the  memo- 
ries of  an  awful  period,  this  was  never  to 
recur ;  but,  unhappily,  the  expectation 
was  delusive.  The  fellow  is  brought  once 
more  before  us  ;  and,  perhaps,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  long  life  of  iniquity,  charged 
with  a  crime  he  did  not  commit."'  In  ,i  \'v\v 
sentences  ho  explained  that  a  large  reward 
was  at  that  very  moment  offered  for  the  ap- 
prehension of  Darby,  who  never  would 
have  ventured,  under  any  <i  to  ap- 

proach the  capital,  much  less  trust  himself 
within  the  walls  of  a  barrack.     "The  tis- 

•  sue  of  wild  and  inconsistent  events  which 
the  prisoner  has  detailed  as  following  the 
assault,  deserves  no  attention  at  my  hands. 
Where  was  this  house  ?  What  was  the 
street  ?  Who  was  this  doctor  of  which  he 
speaks  ? — and  the  sick  man,  how  was  he 
called  ?  " 

•  "I  remember  his  name  well.  It  is  the 
only  one  I  remember  among  all  I  heard," 
said  I  from  the  dock. 

"Lot  us  hear  it,  then,"  said  the  lawyer, 
half  contemptuously. 

"Daniel  Fortescue  was  the  name  he  was 
called  by." 

Scarcely  was  the  name  uttered  by  me, 
when  Crofts  leaned  back  in  his  seat  and  lie- 
came  pale  as  death,  while,  stretching  out 
his  baud,   he   took  hold  of   the  lawyer's 


59G 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


gown  and  drew  him  toward  him.  For  a 
second  or  two  he  continued  to  speak  with 
rapid  utterance  in  the  advocate's  ear,  and 
then  covering  his  face  with  his  handker- 
chief, leaned  his  head  on  the  rail  before 
him. 

"It  is  necessary,  my  lords," said  the  law- 
yet,  "that  I  should  explain  the  reason  of 
my  client's  emotion,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
unvail  the  baseness  which  has  dictated  this 
last  effort  of  the  prisoner,  if  not  to  injure 
the  reputation,  to  wound  the  feelings  of 
my  client.  The  individual  whose  name 
has  been  mentioned  was  the  half-brother 
of  my  client,  and  whose  unhappy  connec- 
tion with  the  disastrous  events  of  the  year 
'98  involved  him  in  a  series  of  calamities, 
which  ended  in  his  death,  which  took  place 
in  the  year  1800,  but  some  months  earlier 
than  the  circumstance  which  we  now  are 
investigating.  The  introduction  of  this 
unhappy  man's  name  was,  then,  a  malig- 
nant effort  of  the  prisoner  to  insult  the 
feelings  of  my  client,  on  which  your  lord- 
ships and  the  jury  will  place  its  true  value." 

A  murmur  of  disapprobation  ran  through 
the  crowded  court  as  these  words  were 
spoken  ;  but  whether  directed  against  me 
or  against  the  comment  of  the  lawyer,  I 
could  not  determine  ;  nor,  such  was  the 
confusion  I  then  felt,  could  I  follow  the 
remainder  of  the  advocate's  address  with 
anything  like  clearness.  At  last  he  con- 
cluded, and  the  chief  justice,  after  a  whis- 
pered conversation  with  his  brethren  of  the 
bench,  thus  began  : 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  the  case  which 
you  have  this  day  to  try,  to  my  mind,  pre- 
sents but  one  feature  of  doubt  and  difficulty. 
The  great  fact  for  your  consideration  is,  to 
determine  to  which  of  two  opposite  and 
conflicting  testimonies  you  will  accord  your 
credence.  On  the  one  side  you  have  the 
story  of  the  prosecutor,  a  man  of  position 
and  character,  high  in  the  confidence  of 
honorable  men,  and  invested  with  all  the 
attributes  of  rank  and  station  ;  on  the  other, 
you  have  a  narrative  strongly  coherent  in 
some  parts,  equally  difficult  to  account  for 
in  others,  given  by  the  prisoner,  whose  life, 
even  by  his  own  showing,  has  none  of  those 
recommendations  to  your  good  opinions 
which  are  based  on  loyalty  and  attachment 
to  the  constitution  of  these  realms.  Both 
testimonies  are  unsupported  by  any  collat- 
eral evidence.  The  prosecutor's  regiment 
is  in  India,  and  the  only  witnesses  he  could 
adduce  are  many  thousand  miles  off.  The 
prisoner  appeals  also  to  the  absent,  but 
with  less  of  reason;  for  if  we  could  call 
this  man,  M'Keown,  before  us — if,  I  say,  we 
had  this  same  Darby  M'Keown  in  court — " 


A  tremendous  uproar  in  the  hall  without 
drowned  the  remainder  of  the  sentence, 
and  although  the  crier  loudly  proclaimed 
silence,  and  the  bench  twice  interposed  its 
authority  to  enforce  it,  the  tumult  con- 
tinued, and 'eventually  extended  within 
the  court  itself,  where  all  semblance ' of 
respect  seemed  suddenly  annihilated. 

"  II'  this  continues  one  moment  longer," 
exclaimed  the  chief  justice,  "I  will  com- 
mit to  Newgate  the  very  first  disorderly 
person  I  can  discover." 

The  threat,  however,  did  but  partially 
calm  the  disturbance,  which  in  a  confused 
murmur  prevailed,  from  the  benches  of  the 
counsel  to  the  very  galleries  of  the  court. 

"  What  means  this  ?"  said  the  judge,  in 
a  voice  of  anger.  "Who  is  it  that  dares 
to  interfere  with  the  administration  of  jus- 
tice here  ?  " 

"  A  witness — a  witness,  my  lord,"  called 
out  several  voices  from  the  passage  of  the 
court,  while  a  crowd  pushed  violently  for- 
ward, and  came  struggling  onward  till  the 
leading  figures  were  pressed  over  the  inner 
bar. 

Again  the  judge  repeated  his  question, 
while  he  made  a  signal  for  the  officer  of  the 
court  to  approach  him. 

"'Tis  me,  my  lord,"  shouted  a  deep- 
toned  voice  from  the  middle  of  the  crowd. 
"Your  lordship  was  asking  for  Darby 
M'Keown,  and  it  isn't  himself  s  ashamed 
of  the  name  ! " 

A  perfect  yell  of  approval  broke  from  the 
ragged  mob,  which  iioav  filled  every  ave- 
nue and  passage  of  the  court,  and  even 
jammed  up  the  stairs  and  the  entrance- 
halls. 

And  now,  raised  upon  the.  shoulders  of 
the  crowd,  Darby  appeared,  borne  aloft  in 
triumph  ;  his  broad  and  daring  face, 
bronzed  with  sun  and  weather,  glowed  with 
a  look  of  reckless  effrontery,  which  no  awe 
of  the  court  nor  any  fear  for  himself  was 
able  to  repress. 

Of  my  own  sensations  while  this  scene 
was  enacting  I  need  not  speak ;  and  as  I 
gazed  at  the  wcatherbeaten  features  of  the 
hardy  piper,  it  demanded  every  effort  of 
my  reason  to  believe  in  the  testimony  of 
my  eyesight.  Had  he  come  back  from 
death  itself  the%  surprise  would  scarcely 
have  been  greater.  Meanwhile  the  tumult 
was  allayed,  and  the  lawyers  on  either  side 
—for  now  that  a  glimmer  of  hope  appeared, 
my  advocate  had  entered  with  spirit  on  his 
duties  —  were  discussing  the  admissibility 
of  evidence  at  the  present  stage  of  the  pro- 
ceedings. This  point  being  speedily  estab- 
lished in  my  favor,  another  and  a  graver 
question  arose  :  how  far  the  testimony  of  a 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


507 


convicted  felon — for  such  the  lawyer  at  once 
called  Darby — Could  be  received  as  evidence. 

Cases  were  quoted,  and  authorities  shoM  a. 
to  prove  that  such  cannot  be  heard  as  wit- 
nesses— that  they  are  among  those  whom 
the  law  pronounces  infamous  and  unworthy 
pi  credit;  and' while  the  lawyer  continued 
to  pour  forth  on  this  topic  a  perfecl  ocean 
of  arguments,  he  was  interrupted  by  the 
court,  who  affirmed  the  opinion,  and  con- 
curred  in  his  view  of  the  case. 

"  It  only  remains,  then,  my  lord,"  said 
my  counsel,  "for, the  Crown  to  establish 
the  identity  of  the  individual — " 

"Nothing-  easier,"  interposed  the  other. 

"I  beg  pardon.  I  was  about  to  add — 
and  produce  the  record  for  his  conviction." 

This  last  seemed  a  felling  blow ;  for, 
although  the  old  lawyer  never  evinced  here, 
or  at  any  other  time,  the  slightest  appear- 
ance of  discomfiture  at  any  opposition,  I 
could  see  by  the  puckering  of  the  deep 
lines  around  his  mouth  that  he  felt  vexed 
and  annoyed  by  this  new  suggestion. 

An  eager  and  animated  discussion  en- 
sued, in  which  my  advocate  was  assisted 
by  the  advice  of  some  senior  counsel,  and 
again  the  point  was  ruled  in  my  favor,  and 
Darby  M'Keown  was  desired  to  mount  the 
table. 

It  required  all  the  efforts  of  the  various 
officers  of  the  court  to  repress  another  out- 
break of  mob  enthusiasm  at  the  decision  ; 
for  already  the  trial  had  assumed  a  feature 
perfectly  distinct  from  any  common  infrac- 
tion of  the  law.  Its  political  bearing  had 
long  since  imparted  a  character  of  party 
warfare  to  the  whole  proceeding ;  and  while 
Sir  Montague  Crofts  found  his  well-wishers 
among  the  better  dressed  and  more  respect- 
able persons  present,  a  much  more  numer- 
ous body  of  supporters  claimed  me'  as  their 
own,  and,  in  defiance  of  all  the  usages  and 
solemnity  of  the  place,  did  not  scruple  to 
bestow  on  me  looks  and  even  words  of  en- 
couragement at  every  stage  of  the  trial. 
Darby's  appearance  was  the  climax  of  this 
popular  enthusiasm.  There  were  few  who 
had  not  seen,  or  at  least  heard  of,  the  cele- 
brated piper  in  times  past.  His  daring- 
infraction  of  the  law — his  reputed  skill  in 
evading  detection — his  acquaintance  with 
every  clue  and  circumstance  of  the  late 
rebellion — the  confidence  he  enjoyed  among 
all  the  leaders — had  made  him  a  hero  in  a 
land  where  such  qualities  are  certain  of 
obtaining  their  due  estimation.  And  now, 
the  reckless  effrontery  of  his  presence  as  a 
witness  in  a  court  of  justice,  while  the 
sentence  of  transportation  still  hung  over 
him,  was  a  claim  to  admiration  none  refused 
to  acknowledge. 


His  air  and  demeanor  as  he  took  his  seat 
on  the  table  seemed  an  acknowledgment  of 
the  homage  rendered  him;  for  though  as 
he  placed  Ins  worn  ami  ragged  hai  beside 
his  feet,  and  stroked  down  his  short  black 
hair  on  his  forehead,  a  careless  observer 
might  have  suspected  bim  of  feeling  awed 
and  abashed  by  the  presence  in  which  he 
sat,  do  more  conversanl  with  his  country- 
men would  have  detected  in  the  quiet  leer 
of  his  roguish  black  eye,  and  a  certain  pro- 
trusion of  his  thick  under  lip,  that  Darby 
was  as  perfectly  at  his  ease  there  as  the 
eminent  judge  was,  who  now  fixed  his  eyes 
upon  him.  A  short  but  not  disrespectful 
nod  was  the  only  notice  he  bestowed  on  me, 
and  then  concealing  his  joined  hands  within 
his  sleeves,  and  drawing  his  legs  back  be- 
neath  the  chair,  he  assumed  that  attitude 
of  mock  humility  your  leas!  bashful  Irish- 
man is  so  commonly  fond  of. 

The  veteran  barrister  was.  meanwhile, 
surveying  the  witness  with  the  peculiar 
scrutiny  of  his  caste;  he  looked  at  him 
through  his  spectacles,,  and  then  he  stared 
at  him  above  them  ;  he  measured  him 
from  head  to  foot,  his  eye  dwelling  on  every 
little  circumstance  of  his  dress  or  demeanor, 
as  though  to  catch  some  clue  to  his  habil  - 
of  thinking  or  acting.  Never  did  a  mata- 
dor survey  the  brawny  animal  with  which 
he  was  about  to  contend  in  skill  or  strength 
with  more  critical  qpumen  than  did  the 
lawyer  regard  Darby  the  Blast;  nor  was 
the  object  of  this  examination  unaware  of 
it.  Very  far  from  this,  indeed,  he  seemed 
pleased  by  the  degree  of  attention  bestowed 
on  him,  and  felt  all  the  flattery  such  notice 
conveyed  ;  but  while  doing  so,  you  could 
only  detect  his  satisfaction  in  an  occasional 
sidelong  look  of  drollery,  which,  brief  and 
fleeting  as  it  was,  had  still  a  numerous 
body  of  admirers  through  the  court,  whose 
muttered  expressions  of  "  Divil  fear  ye, 
Darby,  but  ye're  up  to  them  any  day  :  "  or. 
"Faix  !  'tis  himself  cares  little  about  them!" 
showed  they  had  no  lack  of  confidence  in 
the  piper. 

"Your  name  is  M'Keown,  sir?"  said 
the  lawyer,  with  that  abruptness  which  sc 
often  succeeds  in  oversetting  the  balance  o; 
a  witness's  self-possession. 

"Yes,  sir — Darby  MTveown." 

"  Did  you  ever  go  by  any  other  than  this?  v' 

"They  do  call  me  'Darby  the  Blast' 
betimes,  av  that's  a  name." 

"Is  that  the  only  other  name  you  have 
been  called  by  ?  " 

"I  misremember  rightly,  it's  so  long 
since  I  wa.s  among  friends  and  acquaint- 
ances ;  but  if  yer  honor  would  remind  me 
a  little,  maybe  I  could  tell." 


598 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


"  Well,  were  you  ever  called  c  Larry  the 
Flail  ? '  " 

"  Faix,  I  was,"  replied  lie,  laughing, 
"  divil  a  doubt  of  it." 

"How  did  you  come  bv  the  name  of 
<  Larry  the  Flail  ?  '" 

"They  gave  me  that  name  up  at  Mul- 
l.uldacl,  there,  for  hating  one  M'Clancy  wid 
a  flail." 

"  A  very  good  reason.  So  you  got  the 
name  because  you  beat  a  certain  M 'Clancy 
with  a  flail?" 

"  I  didn't  -say  that.  I  only  said  they 
gave  me  the  name  because  they  said  I  bate 
him." 

"Were  you  ever  called  ' Fire-the-Hag- 
gard?'" 

"  I  was,  often." 

"  For  no  reason,  of  course  ?  " 
.  " Divil  a  rayson.     The   boys  said  it  in 
sport,   just  as  they  talk  of  yer  honor  out 
there  in  the  hall." 

"How  do  you  mean,  talk  of  me  ?  " 

"  Sure  I  heard  them  say  myself,  as  I  was 
coming  in,  that  you  wor  a  clever  man 
and  a  cute  lawyer.  They  do  be  always 
humbugging  that  way.*' 

A  titter  ran  round  the  benches  of  the 
barristers  at  this  speech,  which  was  deliv- 
ered with  a  naive  simplicity  that  would  de- 
ceive many. 

"You  were  a  United  Irishman,  Mr. 
M'Keown,  I  believe  ?  "  tejoined  the  counsel, 
with  a  frown  of  stern  intimidation. 

"Yes,  sir,  and  a  White  Boy,  and  a  De- 
fender, and  a  Thrasher  besides.  '  I  was  in 
all  the  fun  them  times." 

"  The  Thrashers  are  the  fellows,  I  be- 
lieve, who  must  beat  any  man  they  are  ap- 
pointed to  attack — isn't  that  so  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"So  that,  if  I  was  mentioned  to  you  as 
a  person  to  be  assaulted,  although  I  had 
never  clone  you  any  injury,  you'd  not  hesi- 
tate to- Waylay  me  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  I  wouldn't  do  that.  I'd  not 
touch  yer  honor." 

"  Come,  come — what  do  you  mean  ?  Why 
wouldn't  you  touch  me  ?  " 

"I'd  rather  not  tell,  av  it  was  plazing  to 

ye." 

"  You  must  tell,  sir.  Speak  out !  Why 
wouldn't  you  attack  me  ?  " 

"  They  say,  sir,"  said  Darby— and,  as  he 
spoke,  his  voice  assumed  a  peculiar  lisp, 
meant  to  express  great  modesty — "they  say, 
sir,  that  when  a  man  has  a  big  wart  on  his 
nose  there,  like  yer  honor,  it's  not  lucky 
to  bate  him,  for  that's  the  way  the  clivil 
marks  his  own." 

This  time  the  decorum  of  the  court  gave 
way  entirely,' and  the  unwashed  faces  which 


|  filled  the  avenues  and  passages  were  all  ex- 

jpanded  in  open  laughter;  nor  was  it  easy 

to  restore  order  again  amid  the  many  marks 

of  approval  and  encouragement  bestowed  on 

Darby  by  his  numerous  admirers. 

"Remember  where  you  are,  sir,". said  the 
judge,   severely. 

"  Yes,  my  lord,"  said  Darby,  with  an  air 
of  submission.  "'Tis  the  first  time  I  was 
ever  in  sich  a  situation  as  this.  I'm  much 
more  at  my  ease  when  I'm  down  in  the  dock 
there — it's  what  I'm  most  used  to,  God  help 
me."  \ 

The  whining  tone  in  which  he  delivered 
this  mock  lament  on  his  misfortunes  occa- 
sioned another  outbreak  of  the  mob,  who 
were  threatened  with  expulsion  from  the 
court  if  any  future  interruption  took  place. 

"You  were,  then,  a  member  of  every  il- 
legal society  of  the  time,  Mr.  Darby  ?  "  said 
the  lawyer,  returning  to  the  examination. 
"Is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"Most  of  them,  anyhow,"  was  the  cool 
reply. 

"You  took  an  active  part  in  the  doings 
of  the  year  '98  also  ?  " 

"Throth  I  did — mighty  active.  I  walk- 
ed from  beyant  Castlecomer  one  day  to 
Dublin,  to  see  a  trial  here.  Be  the  same 
f,oken,  it  was  Mr.  Curran  made  a  hare  of 
yer  honor  that  day.  Begorra  !  I  wonder  ye 
ever  held  up  yer  head  after." 

Here  a  burst  of  laughter  at  the  recollec- 
tion seemed  to  escape  Darby  so  naturally, 
that  its  contagious  effects  were  felt  through- 
out the  assembly. 

"  You  are  a  wit,  Mr.  M'Keown,  I  fancy — 
eh  ?  " 

"  Bedad  I'm  not,  sir.  Very  little  of  that 
same  would  Jiave  kept  me  out  of  this  to- 
day." 

"  But  you  came  here  to  serve  a  friend — a 
very  old  friend,  he  calls  you." 

"  Does  he  ?  "  said  Darby,  with  an  energy 
of  tone  and  manner  very  different  from  what 
he  had  hitherto  used.  "Does  Master  Tom 
say  that  ?  " 

As  the  poor  fellow's  cheek  flushed,  and 
his  eye  sparkled  with  proud  emotion,  I 
could  perceive  that  the  lawyer's  face  under- 
went a  change  equally  rapid.  A  look  of- 
triumph  at  having  at  length  discovered  the 
assailable  point  of  the  witness's  tempera- 
ment now  passed  over  his  pale  features,  and 
gave  them  an  expression  of  astonishing  in- 
telligence. 

"  A  very  natural  thing  it  is,  Darby,  that 
he  should  call  you  so.  You  were  compan- 
ions at  an  early  period — at  least  of  his 
life  ; — fellow-travelers,  too,  if  I  don't  mis- 
take ?  " 

Although  these  words  were  spoken  in  a 


TO M  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


500 


tone  of  careless  freedom,  and  intended  to 
encourage  Darby  to  some  expansion  on  the 
same  theme,  the  cunning  fellow  had  recov- 
ered all  bis  habitual  self-possession,  and 
merely  answered,  if  answer  it  could  be 
called. 

"I  was  a  poor  man,  sir,  and  lived  by  the 
pipes. ' ' 

The  advocate  and  the  witness  exchanged 
looks  at  this  moment,  in  which  their  rela- 
tive positions  were  palpably  conveyed.  Each 
seemed  to  say  it  was  a  drawn  battle ;  but 
the  lawyer  returned  with  vigor  to  tbe  charge, 
desiring  Darby  to  mention  the  manner  in 
which  our  first  acquaintance  began,  and  how 
the  intimacy  was  originally  formed. 

He  narrated  with  clearness  and  accuracy 
every  step  of  our  early  wanderings,  and 
while  never  misstating  a  single  fact,  con- 
trived to  exhibit  my  career  as  totally  devoid 
of  any  participation  in  the  treasonable  do- 
ings of  tbe  period.  Indeed,  he  laid  great 
stress  on  the  fact  that  my  acquaintance  with 
Charles  cle  Meudon  had  withdrawn  me  from 
all  relations  with  the  insurgent  party,  be- 
tween whom  and  the  French  allies  feelings 
of  open  dislike  and  distrust  existed. 

Of  the  scene  at  the  barrack  his  account 
varied  in  nothing  from  that  I  had  already 
given  ;  nor  was  all  the  ingenuity  of  a  long 
and  intricate  cross-examination  able  to 
shake  his  testimony  in  the  most  minute 
particular. 

"Of  course,  then,  you  know  Sir  Montague 
Crofts?  It  is  quite  clear  that  you  cannot 
mistake  a  person  with  whom  you  had  a 
struggle  such  as  you  speak  of. "' 

"  Faix,  I'd  know  his  skin  upon  a  bush/' 
said  Darby,  "av  he  was  like  what  I  remem- 
ber him  ;  but  sure  he  may  be  changed  since 
that.  They  tell  me  I'm  looking  ould  my- 
self, and  no  wonder.  Hunting  kangaroos 
wears  the  constitution  terribly." 

"  Look  around  the  court,  now,  and  say 
if  he  be  here." 

Darby  rose  from  his  seat,  and  shading 
his  eyes  with  his  hand,  took  a  deliberate 
survey  of  the  court.  Though  well  know- 
ing, from  past  experience,  in  what  part  of 
the  assembly  the  person  he  sought  would 
probably  be,  he  sejzed  the  occasion  to  scru- 
tinize the  features  of  the  various  persons, 
whom,  under  no  other  pretense,  could  he 
have  examined. 

"  It's  not  on  the  bench,  sir,  you  need  look 
for  him,"  said  the  lawyer,  as  M'Keown  re- 
mained for  a  considerable  time  with  his  eyes 
bent  in  that  direction. 

"Bedad,  there's  no  knowing,"  rejoined 
Darby,  doubtfully;  "av  he  was  dressed  up 
that  way,  I  wouldn't  know  him  from  an 
old  ram."     He  turned  round  as  he  said  this, 


and  gazed  steadfastly  toward  the  bar.  It 
was  an  anxious  moment  for  me.  Should 
Darby  make  any  mistake  in  the  identity  of 
Crofts,  bis'  whole  testimony  would  be  so 
weakened  in  the  opinion  oi  the  jury  as  to 
be  nearly  valueless.  I  watched  his  eyes, 
therefore,  as  they  ranged  over  the  crowded 
mass,  with  a  palpitating  heart ;  and  when, 
at  last,  his  glance  settled  on  a  far  part  of 
the  court,  very  distant  from  that  occupied 
by  Crofts,  I  grew  almost  sick  with  appre- 
hension lest  he  should  mistake  another  foi 
him. 

"Well,  sir,"  said  the  lawyer,  "do  you 
see  him  now  ?  " 

"  Arrah,  it's  humbugging  me  yez  are/' 
said  Darby,  roughly,  while  he  threw  him- 
self down  into  his  chair  in  apparent  ill 
temper. 

A  loud  burst  of  laughter  broke  from  the 
bar  at  this  sudden  ebullition  of  passion,  so 
admirably  feigned  that  none  suspected  its 
reality,  and  while  the  sounds  of  mirth  were 
subsiding,  Darby  dropped  his  head,  and 
placed  his  hand  above  his  ear.  "  There  it 
is,  by  gorra ;  there's  no  mistaking  that 
laugh,  anyhow,"  cried  he  ;  "  there's  a 
screeoh  in  it  might  plaze  an  owl  ;"  and  with 
that  be  turned  .abruptly  round  and  faced 
the  bench  where'  Crofts  was  seated.  "  I 
heard  it  a  while  ago,  but  I  couldn't  say 
where.  That's  the  man,"  said  he,  pointing 
with  his  finger  to  Crofts,  who  seemed  actu- 
ally to  cower  beneath  fns  piercing  glance. 

"Kemember,  sir,  you  are  on  your  solemn 
oath.  Will  you  swear  that  the  gentleman 
there  is  Sir  .Montague  Crofts  ?  " 

"I  know  nothing  about  Sir  Montague," 
said  Darby,  composedly,  while  ri'smg  he 
walked  over  toward  the  edge  of  the  table 
where  Crofts  was  sitting,  "but  I'll  swear 
that's  the  same  Captain  Crofts  that  I 
knocked  down  while  he  was  shortening  his 
sword  to  run  it  through  Master  Burke  ;  and 
by  the  same  token,  he  has  a  cut  in  the  skull, 
where  he  fell  on  the  fender,"  and,  before  the 
other  could  prevent  .it,  he  stretched  out  his 
hand,  and  placed  it  on  the  back  of  the 
crown  of  Crofts's  head  :  "  There  it  is, "just 
as  I  tould  you." 

The  sensation  these  words  created  in 
the  court  was  most  striking,  and  even  the 
old  lawyer  appeared  overwhelmed  at  the 
united  craft  and  consistency  of  the  piper. 
The  examination  was  resumed  ;  but  Darby's 
evidence  tallied  so  accurately  with  my  state- 
ment, that  its  continuance  only  weakened 
the  case  for  the  prosecution. 

As  the  sudden  Hash  of  the  lightning  will 
sometimes  disclose  what  in  the  long  blaze 
of  noonday  has  escaped  the  beholder,  so  will 
conviction  break   unexpectedly  upon  the 


600 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


human  mind,  from  some  slight  but  striking 
circumstance,  which  comes  with  the  irresist- 
ible force  of  unpremeditated  truthfulness. 
From  that  moment  it  was  clear  the  jury  to 
a  man  were  with  Darby.  They  paid  im- 
plicit attention  to  all  be  said,  and  made 
notes  of  every  trivial  fact  he  mentioned  ; 
while  he,  as  if  divining  the  impression  he 
had  made,  became  rigorously  cautious  that 
not  a  particle  of  his  evidence  could  be 
shaken,  nor  the  effect  of  his  testimony 
weakened  by  even  a  passing  phrase  of  ex- 
aggeration. It  was,  indeed,  a  phenomenon 
worth  studying,  t'o  see  this  fellow,  whose 
natural  disposition  was  the  irrepressible  love 
of  drollery  and  recklessness — whose  whole 
heart  seemed  bent  on  the.  indulgence  of  his 
wayward,  careless  humor — suddenly  throw 
oil'  every  eccentricity  of  his  character,  and 
become  a  steady  and  accurate  witness,  de- 
livering his  evidence  carefully  and  cauti- 
ously, and  never  suffering  his  own  leanings 
to  repartee,  nor  the  badgering  allusions  of 
his  questioner,  to  draw  him  for  a  moment 
away  from  the  great  object  he  had  set  be- 
fore him  ;  resisting  every  line,  every  bait 
the  cunning  lawyer  threw  out  to  seduce  him 
into  that  land  of  fancy  so  congenial  to 
an  Irishman's  temperament,  he  was  firm 
against  all  temptation,  and  even  endured 
that  severest  of  all  tests  to  the  forbearance 
of  his  country — he  suffered  the  laugh  more 
than  once  to  be  raised  at  his  expense,  with- 
out an  effort  to  retort  on  his  adversary. 

The  examination  lasted  three  hours,  and, 
at  its  conclusion,  every  fact  I  stated  had 
received  confirmation  from  Darby's  testi- 
mony, down  to  the  moment  when  we  left 
the  barrack  together. 

"Now,  M'Keown,"  said  the  lawyer,  "I 
am  about  to  call  your  recollection,  which  is 
so  wonderfully  accurate  that  it  can  give  you 
no  trouble  in  remembering,  to  a  circum- 
stance which  immediately  followed  this  af- 
fair." As  he  got  thus  far,  Crofts  leaned 
over  and  drew  the  counsel  toward  him. 
while  he  whispered  some  words  rapidly  in 
his  ear.  A  brief  dialogue  ensued  between 
them,  at  the  conclusion  of  which  the  law- 
yer turned  round,  and  addressing  Darby, 
said,  ' '  You  may  go  dowm,  sir ;  I've  done 
with  you." 

"Wait  a  moment,"  said  the  young  bar- 
rister on  my  side,  who  quickly  perceived 
that  the  interruption  had  its  secret  object. 

"  My  learned  friend  was  about  to  ask  you 
concerning  something  which?  happened  after 
you  left  the  barrack,  and  although  he  has 
changed  his  mind  on  the  subject,  we,  on 
this  side,  would  be  glad  to  hear  what  you 
have  to  say." 

Darby's  eyes  flashed  with  unwonted  bril- 


liancy, and  I  thought  I  caught  a  glance  of 
triumphant  meaning  toward  Crofts,  as  he 
began  his  recital,  which  was- in  substance 
nothing  more  than  what  the  reader  already 
knows.  When  he  came  to  the  mention  of 
Fortcscue's  name,  however,  Crofts,  whose 
excitement  was  increasing  at  each  moment, 
lost  all  command  over  himself,  and  cried 
out,  "  It's  false  !^-cvcry  word  untrue  !  The 
man  was  dead  at  the  time." 

The  court  rebuked  the  interrujition,  and 
Darby  werrt  on  : 

"No,  my  lord,  he  was  alive.  But  Mr. 
Crofts  is  not  to  blame,  for  he  believed  he 
was  dead  ;  and,  more  than  that,  he  thought 
he  took  the  sure  way  to  make  him  so." 

These  words  produced  the  greatest  ex- 
citement throughout  the  court,  and  an  ani- 
mated discussion  ensued,  how  far  the  testi- 
mony could  go  to  inculpate  a  party  not  ac- 
cused. It  was  ruled,  at  last,  the  evidence 
should  be  heard,  as  touching  the  case  on 
trial,  and  no4  immediately  as  regarded 
Crofts.  And  then  Darby  began  a  recital, 
of  which  I  had  never  heard  a  syllable  be- 
fore, nor  had  I  conceived  the  slightest  sus- 
picion. 

The  story,  partly  told  in  narrative  form, 
partly  elicited  by  questioning,  was  briefly 
this  : 

Daniel  Fortescue  was  the  son  of  a  Eos- 
common  gentleman  of  large  fortune,  of 
whom,  also,  Crofts  was  the  illegitimate 
child.  The  father,  a  man  of  high  Tory 
politics,  had  taken  a  most  determined  part 
against  the  patriotic  party  in  Ireland,  to 
which  his  son  Daniel  had  shown  himself, 
on  more  than  one  occasion,  favorable.  The 
consequence  was,  a  breach  of  affection  be- 
tween them,  widened  into  an  actual  rup- 
ture by  the  old  man,  who  was  a  widoAver, 
taking  home  to  his  house  the  -illegitimate 
son,  and  announcing  to  his  household  that 
he  would  leave  him  everything  he  could  in 
the  world. 

To  Daniel,  the  blow  was  all  that  he  need- 
ed to  precipitate  his  ruin.  He  abandoned 
the  university,  where  already  he  had  dis- 
tinguished himself,  and  threw  himself  heart 
and  soul  into  the  movement  of  the  "  United 
Irish  "  party.  At  first,  high  hopes  of  an 
independent  nation — a  separate  kingdom, 
with  its  own  train  of  interests,  and  its  own 
sphere  of  power  and  influence — was  the 
dream. of  those  with  whom  he  associated; 
but,  as  events  rolled  on,  it  was  found  that, 
to  mature  their  plans,  it  was.  necessary  to 
connect  themselves  with  the  masses,  by 
whose  agency  the  insurrectionary  move- 
ment was  to  be  effected,  and  in  doing  so, 
they  discovered  that,  although  theories  of 
liberty  and  independence,  high  notions  of 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


601 


pure  government,  may  have  charms  for  men  1 
of  intellect  and  intelligence)  to  the  mob,  | 
the  price  of  a  rebellion  must  be  paid  down 
m  the  sterling  coin  of  pillage  and  plunder — 
or  even  worse,  the  triumphant  dominion  of 
the  depraved  and  the  base  over  the  educated 
and  the  worthy. 

Many  who  favored  the  patriotic  cause,  as  j 
it  was  called,   became  so  disgusted  at  the  i 
low  associates  and    base    intercourse    the ! 
game  of  party  required,  that  they  abandon-  j 
ed  the  field  at  once,  leaving  to  others,  less  j 
scrupulous  or  more  ardent,  the  path  they 
could  not  stoop  to  follow.     It  was  probable 
that  young    Fortescue    might  have  been  l 
among  these,  had  he  been  left  to  the  guid- 
ance of  his  own  judgment  and  inclination  ; ! 
.  for,  as  a  man  of  honor  and  intelligence,  he  j 
could  not  help  feeling  shocked  at  the  de- ' 
mands  made  by  those  who  were  the  spokes- 
men  of  the  people  ;  but  this  course  he  was 
not  permitted  to  take,  owing  to  the  influ- 
ence of  a  man  who  had  succeeded  in  obtain-  ■ 
ing   the   most   absolute   power   over    him. 
This    was   a  certain    Maurice   Mulcahy,  a 
well-known  member  of  the  various  illegal 
clubs  of  the  day,  and  originally  a  country 
schoolmaster.     Mulcahy  it  was   who   first ! 
infected  Fortescue's  mind  with  the  poison  J 
of  this  party — now  lending  him  volumes  of 
the  incendiary  trash  with  which  the  press  . 
teemed  ;  now,  newspapers,   whose    articles 
were  headed,  "  Orange  outrage  on  a  harm-  J 
less  and  unresisting  peasantry  !"  or,  "An-  j 
other  sacrifice  of  the  people  to  the  bloody 
vengeance  of  the  Saxon  !  "     By  these,  his 
youthful  mind  became  interested  in  the  fate 
of  those  he  believed  to  be  treated  with  reck- 
less cruelty  and  oppression,  while,  as  he  ad- 
vanced in  years,  his  reason  was  appealed  to 
by  those  great  and  spirit-stirring  addresses 
which  Grattan  and  Curran  were  continually 
delivering,  either  in  the  senate  or  at  the 
bar,  and  wherein  the  most  noble  aspirations 
after  liberty  were  united  with  sentiments 
breathing  love  of  country  and  devoted  pa- 
triotism.   To  connect  the  garbled  and  lying- 
statements   of  a  debased  newspaper  press 
with  the  honorable  hopes  and  noble  con- 
ceptions of  men  of  mind  and  genius,  was 
the  fatal  process  of  his  political  education, 
and  never  was  there  a  time  when  such  a 
delusion  was  more  easy. 

Mulcahy — now  stimulating  the  boyish 
ardor  of  a  high-spirited  youth,  now  flatter- 
ing his  vanity  by  promises  of  the  position 
one  of  his  ancient  name  and  honored  lineage 
must  assume  in  the  great  national  move- 
ment— gradually  became  his  directing  ge- 
nius, swaying  every  resolution,  and  ruling 
every  determination  of  his  mind.  He  never 
left  his  victim  for  a  moment ;  and  while 


thus  insuring  the  unbounded  influence  he 
exercised,  he  gave  proof  of  a  seeming  at- 
tachment, which  Fortescue  confidently  be- 
lieved in.  Mulcahy,  too,  never  wanted  for 
money — alleging  that  the  leaders  of  the 
plot  knew  the  value  of  Fortescue's  alliance, 
and  were  willing  to  advance  him  any  sums 
he  needed,  he  supplied  the  means  of  every 
extravagance  a  wild  and  careless  youth  in- 
dulged in,  and  thus  riveted  the  chain  of  his 
bondage  to  him. 

When  the  rebellion  broke  out,  Fortescue, 
like  many  more,  was  horrors!  ruck  at  the 
conduct  of  his  party.  He  witnessed,  hour- 
ly, scenes  of  cruelty  and  bloodshed  at  which 
his  heart  revolted,  but  to  avow  his  compas- 
sion for  which  would  have  cost  him  his  life 
on  the" spot.  He  was  in  the  stream,  how- 
ever, and  must  go  with  the  torrent,  and 
what  will  not  stern  necessity  compel !  Daily 
intimacy  with  the  base-hearted  and  the  low, 
hourly  association  with  crime,  and,  per- 
haps, more  than  either,  despair  of  success, 
broke  him  down  completely,  and  with  the 
blind  fatuity  of  one  predestined  to  evil,  he 
became  careless  what  happened  to  him,  and 
indifferent  to  whatever  fate  was  before  him. 

Still,  between  him  and  his  associates 
there  lay  a  wide  gulf.  The  tree,  withered 
and  blighted  as  it  was,  still  preserved  some 
semblance  of  its  once  beauty,  and,  among 
that  mass  of  bigotry  and  bloodshed,  his 
nature  shone  forth  conspicuously  as  some- 
thing of  a  different  order  of  being. 

To  none  was  this  superiority  more  insult- 
ing than  to  the  parties  themselves.  So 
long  as  the  period  of  devising  and  planning 
the  movement  of  an  insurrection  lasts,  the 
presence  of  a  gentleman,  or  a  man  of  birth 
or  rank,  will  be  hailed  with  acclamation 
and  delight.  Let  the  hour  of  acting  arrive, 
however,  and  the  scruples  of  an  honorable 
mind,  or  the  repugnance  of  a  high-spirited 
nature,  will  be  treated  as  cowardice  by 
those  who  only  recognize  bravery  in  deeds 
of  blood,  and  know  no  heroism  save  wdien 
allied  to  cruelty. 

Fortescue  became  suspected  by  his  party. 
Hints  were  circulated,  and  rumors  reached 
him,  that  he  was  watched — that  it  was  no. 
time  for  hanging  back.  He  who  sacrificed 
everything  for  the  cause  to  be  thus  accused  ! 
He  consulted  Miflcahy,  and  to  his  utter 
discomfiture  discovered  that  even  his  old 
ally  and  adviser  was  not  devoid  of  doubt 
regarding  him.  Something  must  be  done, 
and  that  speedily :  he  cared  not  what. 
Life  had  long  ceased  to  interest  him  either 
by  hope  or  fear.  The  only  tie  that  bound 
him  to  existence  was  the  strange  desire  to 
be  respected  by  those  his  heart  sickened  at 
the  thought  of. 


602 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


An  attack  was  at  that  lime  planned 
against  the  house  and  family  of  a  Wexford 
gentleman,  whose  determined  opposition  to 
the  rebel  movement  had  excited  all  their 
hatred.  Fortescue  demanded  to  be  the 
leader  of  that  expedition,  and  was  imme- 
diately named  to  the  post  by  those  who 
were  glad  to  have  the  opportunity  of  test- 
ing his  conduct  by  such  an  emergenc}^. 

The  attack  took  place  at  night — a  scene 
of  the  most  fearful  and  appalling  cruelty, 
such  as  the  historian  yet  records  among  the 
most  dreadful  of  that  dreadful  period. 
The  house  was  burned  to  the  ground,  and 
its  inmates  butchered,  regardless  of  age  or 
sex.  In  the  effort  to  save  a  female  from 
the  flames,  Fortescue  was  struck  down  by 
one  of  his  party,  while  another  nearly  cleft 
his  chest  across  with  a  cut  of  a  large  knife. 
He  fell,  covered  with  blood,  and  lay  seem- 
ingly dead.  When  his  party  retreated, 
however,  he  summoned  strength  to  creep 
under  shelter  of  a  ditch,  and  lay  there  till 
near  daybreak,  when  he  was  found  by  an- 
other gang  of  the  rebel  faction,  who  knew 
nothing  of  the  circumstances  of  his  wound, 
and  carried  him  away  to  a  place  of  safety. 

For  some  months  he  lay  dangerouslv  ill. 
Hectic  fever,  consequent  on  long  suffering,, 
brought  him  to  the  very  brink  of  the  grave ; 
and  at  last  he  managed  by  stealth  to  reach 
Dublin,  where  a  doctor  well  known  to  the 
party  resided,  and  under  whose  care  he  ul- 
timately recovered  and  succeeded  at  last  in 
taking  a  passage  to  America.  Meanwhile 
his  death  was  currently  believed,  and 
Crofts  was  everywhere  recognized  as  the 
heir  to  the  fortune. 

Mulcahy,  of  whom  it  is  necessary  to 
speak  a  few  words,  was  soon  after  appre- 
hended on  a  charge  of  rebellion,  and  sen- 
tenced to  transportation.  He  appealed  to 
many  who  had  known  him,  as  he  said,  in 
better  times,  to  speak  to  his  character. 
Among  others,  Captain  Crofts — so  he  then 
was — was  summoned.  His  evidence,  how- 
ever, was  rather  injurious  than  favorable 
to  the  prisoner,  and,  although  not  in  any 
way  influencing  the  sentence,  was  believed 
•  by  the  populace  to  have  mainly  contributed 
to  its  severity. 

Such  was,  in  substance,  the  singular 
story  which  was  now  told  before  the  court 
— told  without  any  effort  at  concealment 
or  reserve — and  to  the  proof  of  which 
M'Keown  was  willing  to  proceed  at  once. 

"This,  my  lord,"  said  Darby,  as  he  con- 
cluded, "is  a  good  time  and  place  to  give 
back  to  Mr.  Crofts  a  trifling  article  I  took 
from  him  the  night  at  the  barracks.  I 
thought  it  was  the  bank-notes  I  was  get- 
ting, but  it  turned  out  better,  after  all." 


With  that  he  produced  a  strong  black 
leather  pocket-book,  fastened  by  a  steel 
clasp.  No  sooner  did  Crofts  behold  it, 
than,  with  the  spring  of  a  tiger,  he  leaped 
forward  and  endeavored  to  clutch  it.  But 
Darby  was  on  his  guard,  and  immediately 
drew  back  his  hand,  calling  out, 

"No,  no,  sir!  I  didn't  keep  it  by  me 
eight  long  years  to  give  it  up  that  way. 
There,  my  lords,"  said  he,  as  he  handed  it 
to  the  bench,  "there's  his  pocket-book, 
with  plenty  of  notes  in  it  from  many  a  one 
|  well  known — Maurice  Mulcahy  among  the 
|  rest — and  you'll  soon  see  who  it  was  first 
tempted  Fortescue  to  ruin,  and  who  paid 
the  money  for  doing  it." 

A  burst  of  horror  and  astonishment 
broke  from  the  assembled  crowd  as  Darby' 
spoke.     Then,  in  a  loud,  determined  tone, 

"He  is  a  perjurer!"  screamed  Crofts. 
"I  repeat  it,  my  lord,  Fortescue  is  dead." 

"  Faix,  and  for  a  dead  man  he  has  a  re- 
markable appetite,"  said  Darby,  "  and  an 
elegant  color  in  his  face  besides,  for  there 
he  stands  ; "  and  as  he  spoke  he  pointed 
with  his  finger  to  a  man  who  was  leaning 
with  folded  arms  against  one  of  the  pillars 
that  supported  the  gallery.  Every  eye  was 
now  turned  in  the  direction  toward  him, 
while  the  young  barrister  called  out,  "  Is 
your  name  Daniel  Fortescue  ?  "  But  before 
any  answer  could  follow,  several  among  the 
lawyers,  who  had  known  him  in  his  college 
days,  and  felt  attachment  to  him,  had  sur- 
rounded and  recognized  him. 

"  I  am  Daniel  Fortescue,  my  lord,"  said 
the  stranger.  "  Whatever  may  be  the  con- 
sequences of  the  avowal,  I  say  it  here,  be- 
fore this  court,  that  every  statement  the 
witness  lias  made  regarding  me  is  true  to 
the  letter." 

.A  low,  faint  sound,  heard  throughout 
the  stillness  that  followed  these  words,  now 
echoed  throughout  the  court,  and  Crofts 
had  fallen,  fainting,  over  the  bench  behind 
him. 

A  scene  of  tumultuous'  excitement  now 
ensued,  for  while  Crofts's  friends,  many  of 
whom  were  present,  assisted  to  carry  him 
into  the  air,  others  pressed  eagerly  forward 
to  catch  a  sight  of  Fortescue,  who  had 
already  rivaled  Darby  himself  in  the  esti- 
mation of  the  spectators.  He  was  a  tall, 
powerfully-built  man,  of  about  thirty-five 
or  six,  dressed  in  the  blue  jacket  and  trow- 
sers  of  a  sailor  ;  but  neither  the  habitude  of 
his  profession,  nor  the  humble  dress  he 
wore,  could  conceal  the  striking  evidence 
his  air  and  bearing  indicated  of  condition 
and  birth.  As  he  mounted  the  witness- 
table — for  it  was  finally  agreed  that  his  tes- 
timony in    disproof    or    corroboration  of 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


G03 


M'Keown  should  be  heard — a  murmur  of 
approbation  went  round,  partly  at  the  dar- 
ing step  he  had  thus  ventured  on  taking, 
and  partly  excited  by  those  personal  gifts 
N  which  are  ever  certain  to  have  their  effect 
upon  any  crowded  assembly. 

I  need  not  enter  into  the  details  of  his 
evidence,  which  was  given  in  a  frank, 
straightforward  manner,  well  suited  to  his 
appearance  ;  never  concealing  for  a  moment 
the  cause  he  had  himself  embarked  in,  nor 
assuming  any  favorable  coloring  for  actions 
which  ingenuity  and  the  zeal  of  party  would 
have  found  subjects  for  encomium  rather 
than  censure. 

His  narrative  not  only  confirmed  all  that 
Darby  asserted,  but  also  disclosed  the  atro- 
cious scheme  by  which  he  had  been  first 
induced  to  join  the  ranks  of  the  disaffected 
party.  This  was  the  work  of  Crofts,  *who 
knew  and  felt  that  Fortescue  was  the  great 
barrier  between  himself  and  a  large  fortune. 
For  this  purpose  Mulcahy  was  hired ;  to 
this  end  the  whole  long  train  of  perfidy 
laid,  which  eventuated  in  his  ruin  ;  for  so 
artfully  had  the,  plot  been  devised,  each 
day's  occurrence  rendered  retreat  more  dif- 
ficult, until  at  last  it  became  impossi- 
ble. 

The  reader  is  already  aware  of  the  catas- 
trophe which  concluded  his  career  in  the 
rebel  army.  It  only  remains  now  to  be  told 
that  he  escaped  to  America,  where  he  en- 
tered as  a  sailor  on  board  a  merchantman  ; 
and  although  his  superior  acquirements  and 
conduct  might  have  <ea"sily  bettered  his  for- 
tune in  his  new  walk  in  life,  the  dread  of 
detection  never  left  his  mind,  and  he  pre- 
ferred the  hardships  before  the  mast  to 
the  vacillation  of  hope  and  fear  a  more 
conspicuous  position  would  have  exposed 
him  to.  • 

The  vessel  in  which  he  served  was  wrecked 
off  the  coast  of  ISTew  Holland,  and  he  and  a 
few  others  of  the  crew  were  taken  up  by  an 
English  ship  on  her  voyage  outward.  In  a 
party  sent  on  shore  for  wafer,  Fortescue 
came  up  with  Darby,  who  had  made  his 
escape  from  the  convict  settlement,  and 
was  wandering  about  the  woods,  almost 
dead  of  starvation,  and  scarcely  covered 
with  clothing.  His  pitiful  condition,  but 
perhaps  more  still,  his  native  drollery, 
which  even  then  was  unextinguished,  in- 
duced the  sailors  to  yield  to  Fortescue's 
proposal,  and  they  smuggled  him  on  board 
in  a  water-cask,  and,  thus  concealed,  he 
made  the  entire  voyage  to  England,  where 
he  landed  about  a  fortnight  before  the  trial. 
Fearful  of  being  apprehended  before  the 
day,  and  determined  at  all  hazards  to  give 
his  evidence,  he  lay  hid  till  the  time  we 


have  already  seen,  when  he  suddenly  came 
forward  to  my  rescue. 

Mulcahy,  who  worked  in  the  same  gang 
with  Darby,  or,  to  use  the  piper's  grandilo- 
quent expression,  for  he  burst  out  in  this  oc- 
casionally, was  "in  concatenated  proximity 
to  him,"  told  the  whole  story  of  his  own 
baseness,and  loudly  inveighed  against  Crofts 
for  deserting  him  in  his  misfortunes.  The 
pocket-book  taken  from  Crofts  by  Darby 
amply  corroborated  this  statement.  It 
contained,  besides  various  memoranda  in 
the  owner's  handwriting,  several  letters 
from  Mulcahy,  detailing  the  progress  of  the 
conspiracy  ;  some  were  in  acknowledgment 
of  considerable  sums  of  mo*ney,  others  ask- 
ing for  supplies,  but  all  confirmatory  of 
the  black  scheme  by  which  Fortescue's  de- 
struction was  compassed. 

Whatever  might  have  been  the  sentiments 
of  the  crowded  court  regarding  the  former 
life  and  opinions  of  Fortescue  and  the  piper, 
it  was  clear  that  now  only  one  impression 
prevailed — a  general  feeling  of  horror  at  the 
complicated  villany  of  Crofts,  whose  whole 
existence  had  been  one  tissue  of  the  basest 
treachery. 

The  testimony  was  heard  with  attention 
throughout ;  no  cross-examination  was  en- 
tered on,  and  the  judge,  briefly  adverting  to 
the  case  which  was  before  the  jury,  and 
from  whose  immediate  consideration  sub- 
sequent events  had  in  a  great  measure  with- 
drawn their  minds,  directed  them  to  deliver 
a  verdict  of  not  guilty. 

The  words  were  re-echoed  by  the  jury, 
who,  man  for  man,  exclaimed  these  words 
aloud,  amid  the  most  deafening  cheers  from 
every  side. 

As  I  walked  from  the  dock,  fatigued, 
worn  out,  and  exhausted,  a  dozen  hands 
were  stretched  out  to  seize  mine  ;  but  one 
powerful  grasp  caught  my  arm,  and  a  well- 
known  voice  called  in  my  ear, 

"An'yewor  with  Boney,  Master  Tom  ? 
Tare  and  'ounds,  didn't  I  know  you'd  be  a 
great  man  yet." 

At  the  same  instant  Fortescue  came 
through  the  crowd  toward  me,  with  his 
hands  outstretched. 

"We  should  be  friends,  sir,"  said  he, 
"for  we  both  have  suffered  from  a  common 
enemy.     If  I  am  liberty  to  leave  this — " 

"You  are  not,  sir,"  interposed  a  deep 
voice  behind.  We  turned  and  1  >eheld  Major 
Barton.  "The  massacre  at  Kilmacshogue 
has  yet  to  be  atoned  for. " 

Fortescue's  face  grew  actually  livid  at  the 
mention  of  the  word,  and  his  breathing 
became  thick  and  short. 

"Here,"  continued  Barton,  "is  the  war- 
rant for  your  committal ;    and  you  also, 


004 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


Darby,"  said  lie,  turning  round  ;  "wo want 
your  company  once  more  in  Newgate." 

"  Bedad,  I  suppose  there's  no  use  in  send- 
ing an  apology  when  friends  is  so  pressing," 
said  he,  buttoning  his  coat  as  coolly  as  pos- 
sible ;  "but  I  hope  you'll  let  the  master 
come  in  to  see  me." 

"Mr.  Burke  shall  be  admitted  at  all 
times,"  said  Barton,  with  an  obsequious  ci- 
vility I  had  never  witnessed  in  him  previous- 
ly- 

"Faix,  maybe  you'll  not  be  for  letting 

him  out  so  aisy,"  said  Darby,  dryly,  for  his 
notions  of  justice  were  tempered  by  a  con- 
siderable dash  of  suspicion. 

I  had  only  time  left  to  press  my  purse 
into  the  honest  fellow's  hand,  and  salute 
Fortescue  hastily,  as  they  both  were  re- 
moved, under  the  custody  of  Barton  ;  and 
I  now  made  my  way  through  the  crowd  into 
the  hall,  which  opened  a  line  for  me  as  I 
went  ;  a  thousand  welcomes  meeting  me 
from  those  who  felt  as  anxious  about  the 
result  of  the  trial  as  if  a  brother  or  a  dear 
friend  had  been  in  peril. 

One  face  caught  my  eye  as  I  passed  ;  and 
partly  from  my  own  excitement,  partly  from 
its  expression  being  so  different  from  its 
habitual  character,  I  could  not  recognize  it 
as  speedily  as  I  ought  to  have  done.  Again 
and  again  it  appeared  ;  and  at  last,  as  I  ap- 
proached the  door  into  the  street,  it  was  be- 
side me. 

"If  I  might  dare  to  express  my  congrat- 
ulations," said  a  voice,  weak  from  the 
tremulous  anxiety  of  the  speaker,  and  the 
shame  which,  real  or  affected/  seemed  to 
bow  him  down. 

"What,"  cried  I,  "Mr.  Basset  !"  for  it 
was  the  worthy  man  himself. 

"  Yes,  sir.  Your  father's  old  and  con- 
fidential agent — I  might  venture  to  say, 
friend — come  to  see  the  son  of  his  first 
patron  occupy  the  station  he  has  long  mer- 
ited." 

"  A  bad  memory  is  the  only  touch  of  age 
I  remark  in  you,  sir,"  said  I,  endeavoring 
to  pass  on,  for  I  was  unwilling  at  the  mo- 
ment of  my  escape  from  a  great  difficulty 
to  lose  temper  with  so  unworthy  an  object. 

"  One  moment,  sir — just  a  moment,"  said 
he,  in  a  low  whisper.  "  You'll  want 
money,  probably.  The  November  rents  are 
not  paid  up  ;  but  there's  a  considerable 
balance  to  your  credit.  Will  you  take  a 
hundred  or  two  for  the  present  ?  " 

"Take  money  ! — money  from  you  !"  said 
I,  shrinking  back. 

"Your  own,  sir — your  own  estate.  Do 
you  forget,"  said  he,  with  a  miserable  effort 
at  a  smile,  "that  you  are  Mr.  Burke  of 
Cromore,  with  a  clear  rental  of  four  thou- 


sand a  year  ?  We  gained  the  Cluan  Bog 
lawsuit,  sir,"  continued  he.  "'Twas  I/sir, 
found  the  satisfaction  for  the  bond.  Your 
brother  said  he  owed  it  all  to  Tony  Basset." 

The  two  last  words  were  all  that  were 
needed  to  sum  up  the  measure  of  my  dis- 
gust, and  I  once  more  tried  to  get  forward. 

"I  know  the  property,  sir,  for  thirty- 
eight  "years.  I  was  over  it.  Your  father 
and  your  brother  always  trusted  me — " 

"Le,t  me  pass  on,  Mr.  Basset,"  said  I, 
calmly.  "  I  have  no  desire  to  become  a 
greater  object  of  mob  curiosity.  Pray  let 
me  pass  on." 

"And  for  Darby  M'Keown,"  whispered 
he. 

"What  of  him?"  said  I  ;  for  he  had 
touched  the  most  anxious  chord  of  my  heart 
at  that  instant. 

"I'll  have  him  free.  He  shall  be  at  lib- 
erty in  forty-eight  hours  for  you.  I  have 
the  whole  papers  by  me  ;  and  a  statement  to 
the  privy  council  will  obtain  his  liberation." 

"  Do  this,"  said  I,  "  and  111  forgive  more 
of  your  treatment  of  me  than  I  could  on  any 
other  plea."  » 

"  May  I  call  on  you'  this  evening,  or  to- 
morrow morning,  at  your  hotel  ?  Where  do 
you  stop,  sir  ?  " 

"  This  evening  be  it,  if  it  hasten 
M'Keown's  liberation.  Remember,  how- 
ever, Mr.  Basset,  I'll  hold  no  converse  with 
you  on  any  other  subject  till  that  be  set- 
tled, and  to  my  perfect  satisfaction." 

"A  bargain,  sir,"  said  he,  with  a  grin  of 
satisfaction  ;  and  dropping  back,  he  suffer- 
ed me  to  proceed. 

Along  the  quays  I  went,  and  down  Dame 
street,  accompanied  by  a  great  mob  of  peo- 
ple, who  thought  in  my  acquittal  they  had 
gained  a  triumph  ;  for  so  it  was — every 
case  had  its  political  feature,  and  seemed  to 
be  intimately  connected  with  the  objects  of 
one  party  or  the  other.  Partisan  cheers — 
the  watchwords  of  faction — were  uttered  as 
I  went,  and  I, was  made  to  suffer  that  least 
satisfactory  of  all  conditions,  which  bestows 
notoriety  without  fame,  and  popularity 
without  merit. 

As  I  entered  the  hotel,  I  recognized  many 
of  the  persons  I  had  seen  there  before  ;  but 
their  looks  were  no  longer  thrown  toward 
me  with  the  impertinence  they  then  as- 
sumed. On  the  contrary,  a  studied  desire 
to  evince  courtesy  and  politeness  was  evi- 
dent. "  How  strange  is  it  !  "  thought  I — 
"  how  differently  does  the  whole  world  smile 
to  the  rich  man  and  to  the  poor  !  "  Here 
were  many  who  could  in  no  wise  derive  ad- 
vantage from  my  altered  condition — as  per- 
fectly independent  of  me  as  I  of  them  ;  and 
yet  even  they  showed  that  degree  of  defer- 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OUtiS." 


G05 


ence  in  their  manner  which  the  expectant 
bestows  upon  a  patron.  So  it  is,  however. 
The  position  which  wealth  confers  is  recog- 
nized by  all — the  individual  who  tills  it  is 
hut  an  attribute  of  the  station. 

Life  had,  indeed,  opened  on  me  with  a 
new  and  very  different  aspect,  and  I  felt,  as 
I  indulged  in  the  day-dreams  which  the 
sudden  possession  of  fortune  excites,  that 
to  enjoy  thoroughly  the  blessings  of  inde- 
pendence, one  must  have  experienced,  as  I 
had,  the  hard  pressure  of  adversity.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  the  long  road  of  gloomy 
fate  had  at  length  readied  its  turning-point, 
and  that  I  should  now  travel  along  a  calmer 
and  a  happier  path. 

Thoughts  of  the  new  career  that  lay  be- 
fore me  were  blended  with  the  memories  of 
the  past — hopes  they  were,  hut  dashed  with 
the  shadows  which  a  blighted  affection  will 
throw  over  the  whole  stream  of  life.  Still 
that  evening  was' one  of  happiness — not  of 
that  excited  pleasure  derived  from  the  at- 
tainment of  a  long-coveted  ohject,  but  the 
calmer  enjoyment  felt  in  the  safety  of  the 
haven  by  him  who  has  experienced  the  hur- 
ricane and  the  storm.  With  such  thoughts 
I  went  to  rest,  and  laid  my  head  on  my  pil- 
low in  thoughtfulness  and  peace.  In  my 
dreams  my  troubles  still  lingered  ;  but  who 
regrets  the  anxious  minutes  of  a  vision  which 
wakening  thoughts  dispel — are  they  not 
rather  the  mountain  shadows  that  serve  to 
brighten  the  gleam  of  the  sunlight  in  the 
plain  ? 

It  was  thus  the  morning  broke  for  me, 
with  all  the  ecstasy  of  danger  passed,  and 
all  the  crowding  hopes  of  a  happy  future. 
The  hundred  speculations  which  in  poverty 
I  had  formed  for  the  comfort  of  the  poor 
and  the  humble  might  now  be  realized  ; 
and  I  fancied  myself  the  center  of  a  happy 
peasantry,  confiding  and  contented. 

It  would  be  hard,  indeed,  to  forget  "  the 
camp  and  the  tented  field  "  in  the  peace- 
ful paths  of  a  country  life  ;  but  simple  du- 
ties are  often  as  engrossing  as  those  of  a 
higher  order,  and  bring  a  reward  not  less 
grateful  to  the  heart,  and  I  flattered  my- 
self to  think  my  ambition  reached  not 
above  them. 

The  moments  in  which  such  day-dreams 
are  indulged  are  the  very  happiest  of  a  life- 
time. The  hopes  Avhich  are  based  on 
the  benefits  we  may  render  to  others  are 
sources  of  elevation  to  ourselves  ;  and  such 
motives  purify  the  soul  and  exalt  the  mind  to 
a  pitch  far  above  the  petty  ambitions  of  the 
world.    < 

To  myself,  and  to  my  own  enjoyments, 
wealth  could  contribute  less  than  to  most 
men.     The  simple  habits  of  a  soldier's  life 


satisfied  every  wisb  of  my  mind.  The  lux- 
uries which  custom  makes  necessary  to 
others  I  never  knew  ;  and  1  formed  m\ 
resolution  not  to  wander  from  this  path  of 
humble,  inexpensive  tastes,  bo  that  the 
stream  of  charity  might  flow  the  wider. 

These  were  my  waking  thoughts.  Alas, 
how  little  do  we  ever  realize  of  such  .-pecu- 
lations !  and.  how  few  glide  down  the  stream 
of  life  unswayed  by  the  eddies  and  cro 
currents  of  fortune  !  The  higher  we  build 
the  temple  of  our  hopes,  the  more  surely 
will  it  topple  to  its  fall.  Who  shall  say 
that  our  greatest  enjoyment  is  not  in  raid- 
ing the  pile,  and  our  happiest  hours  the 
full  abandonment  to  those  hopes  our  calmer 
reason  never  ratified  ?  As  yet  it  had  not 
occurred  to  me  to  think  what  position  the 
world  might  concede  to  one  whose  life  had 
been  passed  like  mine,  nor  did  I  bestow  a 
care  upon  a  matter  whereon  so  much  of  fu- 
ture happiness  depended. '  These,  however, 
were  considerations  which  could  not  be 
long  averted.  How  they  came,  and  in 
what  manner  they  were  met,  must  remain 
for  a  future  chapter  of  my  history. 


CHAPTER  LXXXIL 

A    HASTY   RESOLUTION*. 

Iisr  my  last  chapter  I  brought  my  reader 
to  that  portion  of  my  story  which  formed 
the  turning-point  of  my  destiny  ;  and  here 
I  might,  perhaps,  conclude  these  brief 
memoirs  of  an  early  life,  whose  chief  ob- 
ject was  to  point  out  the  results  of  a  hasty 
and  rash  judgment,  which,  formed  in  mere 
boyhood,  exerted  its  influence  throughout 
the  entire  of  a  lifetime.  One  only  incident 
remains  still  to  be  told  ;  and  I  shall  not 
trespass  on  the  good-natured  patience  of 
my  readers  by  any  delay  in  the  narrative. 

From  being  poor,  houseless,  and  un- 
known, a  sudden  turn  of  fortune  had  made 
me  wealthy  and  conspicuous  in  station,  the 
owner  of  a  large  estate — almost  a  leading 
man  in  my  native  county.  My  influence 
was  sufficient  to  procure  the  liberation  of 
M-Kcown,  and  my  interference  in  his 
behalf  mainly  contributed  to  procure  for 
Fortescue  the  royal  pardon.  The  world, 
as  the  phrase  is,  went  well  with  me  ;  and 
the  good  luck  which  attended  every  step  I 
took,  and  every  plan  I  engaged  in,  was  be- 
come a  proverb  among  my  neighbors. 

Let  not  any  one  suppose  I  was  unmind- 
ful or  ungrateful,  if  I  confess  that,  even 
with  all  these,  I  was  not  happy.  No.  The 
tranquil  mind,  the  spirit  at  ease  with  itself, 


GOG 


CHARLES  LEVERS   WORKS. 


cannot  exist  where  the  sense  of  duly  is  not. 
The  impulse  which  swayed  my  boyish  heart 
still  moved  the  ambition  of  the  man.  The 
pursuits  I  should  have  deemed  the  nobles! 

and  the  purest  seemed  to  me  uninteresting 
and  ignoble;  the  associations  I  ought  to 
have  felt  the  happiest,  and  the  highest  ap- 
peared to  me  vulgar,  and  low,  and  com- 
monplace. I  was  disappointed  in  my  early 
dream  of  liberty,  and  had  found  tyranny 
where  1  looked  for  freedom,  and  intoler- 
ance where  I  expected  enlightenment  ;  but, 
if  so,  1  recurred  with  tenfold  enthusiasm  to 
the  career  of  the  soldier,  whose  glories  were 
ever  before  me.  That  noble  path  had  not 
deceived  me — far  from  it.  Its  wild  and 
whirlwind  excitement,  its  hazardous  enter- 
prise, its  ever-present  dangers,  were  stimu- 
lants I  loved  and  gloried  in.  All  the 
chances  and  changes  of  a  peaceful  life  were 
poor  and  mean  compared  to  the  hourly 
vicissitudes  of  war.  I  knew  not  then,  it  is 
true,  how  much  of  enjoyment  I  derived 
from  forgetfulness,  how  many  of  my  springs 
of  happiness  flowed  from  that  preoccupa- 
tion which  prevented  my  dwelling  on  the 
only  passion  that  ever  stirred  my  heart — 
my  love  for  one  whose  love  was  hopeless. 

How  thoroughly  will  the  character  of  an 
early  love  tinge  the  whole  of  a  life  !  Our 
affections  are  like  flowers,  they  derive  their, 
sweetness  and  their  bloom  from  the  soil  in 
which  they  grow — some,  budding  in  joy 
and  gladness,  amid  the  tinkling  plash  of  a 
glittering  fountain,  live  on  ever  bright  and 
beautiful  ;  others,  struggling  on  'mid 
thorns  and  wild  weeds,  overshadowed  by 
gloom,  preserve  their  early  impressions  to 
the  last — their  very  sweetness  tells  of  sad- 
ness. 

To  conquer  the  memory  of  this  hopeless 
passion  I  tried  a  hundred  ways.  I  en- 
deavored, by  giving  myself  up  to  the 
duties  of  a  country  gentleman,  to  become 
absorbed  in  all  the  cares  and  pursuits  which 
had  such  interest  for  my  neighbors.  Fail- 
ing m  this,  I  became  a  sportsman.  I  kept- 
horses  and  clogs,  and  entered,  with  all  the 
zest  mere  determination  can  impart,  upon 
that  life  of  manly  exertion,  so  full  of 
pleasure  to  thousands;  but  here  again 
without  succeeding. 

I  went  into  society,  but  soon  retired  from 
it,  on  finding  that,  .among  the  class  of  mv 
equals,  the  prestige  of  my  early  life  had 
still  tracked  me.  I  was,  in  their  eyes,  a 
rebel,  whose  better  fortune  had  saved  him 
from  the  fate  of  his  companions.  My  youth 
had  given  no  guarantee  for  my  manhood  ; 
and  I  was  not  trusted.  Baffled' in  every  en- 
deavor to  obliterate  my  secret  grief,  I  re- 
curred to  it  now,  as  though  privileged  by 


fate,  to  indulge  a  memory  nothing  could 
efface.  1  abandoned  all  the  petty  appliances 
by  which  I  sought  to  shut  out  the  past,  and 
gave  myself  up  in  full  abandonmenl  to  the 
luxury  of  my  melancholy. 

Living  entirely  within 'the  walls  of  my 
demesne,  never  seen  by  my  neighbors,  not 
making  nor  receiving  visits,  I  appealed  to 
many  a  heartless  recluse,  whose  misanthro- 
py sought  indulgence  in  solitude.  Gibers, 
less  harshly,  judged  me  as  one  whose  un- 
happy entrance  on  life  had  unfitted  him 
for  the  station  to  which  fortune  had  elevat- 
ed him.     By  both  I  was  soon  forgotten. 

The  peasantry  were  less  ungenerous,  and 
more  just.  They  saw  in  me  one  who  felt 
acutely  for  the  privations  they  were  suffer- 
ing ;  yet  never  gave  them  that  cheap,  delu- 
sive hope,  that  legislative  changes  will 
touch  social  evils — that  the  acts  of  a  parlia- 
ment will  penetrate  the  thousand  toituous 
windings  of  a  poor  man's  destiny.'  They 
found  in  me  a  friend  and  an  adviser.  They 
only  wondered  at  one  thing — how  any  man 
could  feel  for  the  poor  and  not  hate  the 
rich.  So  long  had  the  struggle  lasted 
between  affluence  and  misery,  they  could 
not  understand  a  compromise.  Bitter  as 
their  poverty  had  been,  it  never  extinguish- 
ed the  poetry  of  their  lives.  They  were 
hungry  and  naked  ;  but  they  held  to  their 
ancient  traditions,  and  they  built  on  them 
great  hopes  for  the  future.  The  old  family 
names — the  time-honored  memories  of 
place — the  famous  deeds  of  ancestors,  made 
an  ideal  existence,  powerful  enough  to  ex- 
clude the  pressure  of  actual  daily  evils  ; 
and  they  argued  from  what  had  been  to 
what  might  be,  with  a  persistency  of  hope 
it  seemed  almost  cruel  to  destroy.  So  deep-* 
ly  were  these  thoughts  ingrained  into  their 
natures,  they  felt  him  but  half  their  friend 
who  ventured  to  despise  them.  The -relief 
of  present  poverty — the  succor  of  actual 
suffering,  became  in  their  eyes  an  effort  of 
mere  passing  kindness.  They  looked  to 
some  great  amelioration  of  condition — some 
wondrous  change — seme  restoration  to  an 
imaginary  standard  of  independence  and 
comfort,  which  all  the  efforts  of  common 
interference  fell  sadly  short  of  ;  and  thus 
they  strained  their  gaze  to  a  government,  a 
ruling  power,  for  a  boon  undefined,  un- 
known, and  illimitable. 

To  expectations  like  these,  advice  and 
slight  assistance  are  as  the  mere  drop  of 
water  to  the  parched  tongue  of  thirst,  and 
so  I  found  it.  I  could  neither  encourage 
them  in  their  hopes  of  •  such  legislative 
changes  as  would  greatly  ameliorate  their 
condition,  nor  flatter  them  in  the  delusion 
that    none  of  their    misfortunes    were  of 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


607 


homo  origin  ;  and  thus,  if  they  felt  grati- 
tude for  many  kindnesses,  they  reposed  no 
confidence  in  my  opinion.  The  trading 
patriot,  who  promised  much,  while  he 
pocketed  their  hard-earned  savings  ;  the 
rabid  newspaper  writer,  who  libeled  the 
government  and  denounced  the  landlord, 
were  their  standards  of  sympathy,  and  he 
who  fell  short  of  either  was  not  their  friend. 

In  a  word,  the  social  state  of  the  people 
was  rotten  to  its  very  core.  Their  highest 
qualities,  degraded  by  the  combined  force 
of  poverty,  misrule,  and  superstition,  had 
beeome  sources  of  crime  and  misery.  They 
had  suffered  so  long  and  so  much,  "their  pa- 
tience was  exhausted,  and  they  preferred 
the  prospect  of  any  violent  convulsion 
which  might  change  the  face  of  the  land, 
whatever  dangers  it  might  come  with,  to  a 
slow  and  gradual  improvement  of  condi- 
tion, however  safe  and  certain. 

To  win  their  confidence  at  the  only  price 
they  would  accord  it  I  never  could  consent 
to,  and  without  it  I  was  almost  powerless 
for  good.  Here  again,  therefore,  did  I  find 
closed  against  me  another  avenue  for  exer- 
tion, and  the  only  one  of  all,  I  could  have 
felt  a  fitting  sphere  for  my  labor.  The  vio- 
lence of  their  own  passionate  natures,  the 
headlong  impulses  by  which  they  suffered 
themselves  to  be  swayed,  left  them  no 
power  of  judgment  regarding  those  whose 
views  were  more  moderate  and  temperate. 
They  could  understand  the  high  Tory 
landlord,  whom  they  invested  with  every  at- 
tribute of  tyranny,  as  their  open,  candid  op- 
ponent. They  could  see  a  warm  friend  in 
the  violent  mob-orator  of  the  day ;  but 
they  recognized  no  trait  of  kindness  in  him 
who  would  rather  see  them  fed  than  flat- 
tered, and  behold  them  in  the  enjoyment 
of  comfort  sooner  than  in  the  ecstasy  of 
triumph. 

From  "Darby  the  Blast,"  for  he  was 
now  a  member  of  my  household,  I  learned 
the  light  in  which  I  was  regarded  by  the 
people,  and  heard  the  dissatisfaction  they 
expressed  that  one  who  "sarved  Boney  " 
should  not  be  ready  to  head  a  rising,  if 
need  be.  Thus  was  I  in  a  false  position  on 
every  side.  Mistrusted  by  all,  because  I 
would  neither  enter  into  the  exaggerations 
of  party,  nor  become  blind  to  the  truth  my 
senses  revealed  before  me,  my  sphere  of 
utility  was  narrowed  to  the  discharge  of  the 
mere  duties  of  common  charity  and  benevo- 
lence, and  my  presence  among  my  tenantry 
no  more  productive  of  benefit  than  if  I  had. 
left  my  purse  as  my  representative. 

Years  rolled  on,  and  in  the  noiseless 
track  of  time  I  forgot  its  flight.  I  now 
nad  grown  so  wedded  to  the  habits  of  my 


solitary  life,  that  its  very  monotony  was  a 
source  of  pleasure.  1  had  intrenched  my- 
self within  a  little  circle  of  enjoyments, 
and  among  my  books  and  in  my  walks  my 
days  went  pleasantly  over. 

For  a  long  time  I  did  not  dare  to  read 
the  daily  papers,  nor  learn  the  great  events 
which  agitated  Europe.  I  tried  to  think- 
that  an  interval  of  repose  would  leave  me 
indifferent  to  their  mention,  and  so  rigidly 
did  1  abstain  from  indulging  my  curiosity, 
that  the  burning  of  Moscow  and  the  com- 
mencement of  the  dreadful  retreat  which 
followed  was  the  first  fact  I  read  of. 

From  the  moment  I  gave  way,  the  pas- 
sion for  intelligence  from  France  became  a 
perfect  mania.  Where  were  the  different 
corps  of  the  "Grand  Army?"  Where  the 
Emperor  himself  ?  By  what  great  stroke 
of  genius  would  he  emerge  from  the  diffi- 
culties around  him,  and  deal  one  of  his 
fatal  blows  on  the  enemy  ?  were  the  cptes- 
tions  which  met  me  as  I  awoke,  and  tor- 
tured me  during  the  day. 

Each  movement  of  that  terrible  retreat  I 
followed  in  the  gazettes  with  an  anxiety 
verging  on  insanity.  I  tracked  the  long 
journey  on  the  map,  and  as  I  counted  towns 
and  villages,  dreary  deserts  of  snow,  and 
vast  rivers  to  be  traversed,  my  heart  grew 
faint  to  think  how  many  a  brave  soldier 
would  never  reach  that  fair  France  for 
whose  glory  he  had  shed  his  best  blood. 

Disaster  followed  disaster,  and  as  the 
news  reached  England,  came  accounts  of 
those  great  defections  which  weakened  the 
force  of  the  "Grand  Army,"  and  deranged 
the  places  formed  for  its  retiring  movements. 

They  who  can  recall  to  mind  the  time  I 
speak  of,  will  remember  the  effect  produced 
in  England  by  the  daily  accounts  from  the 
seat  of  war,  how  heavily  fell  the  blows  of 
that  altered  fortune  which  once  rested  on 
the  eagles  of  France — how  each  new  bul- 
letin announced  another  feature  of  misfor- 
tune, some  shattered  remnant  of  a  great 
corps  d'armee  cut  off  by  Cossacks,  some 
dreadful  battle  engaged  against  superior 
numbers,  and  fought  with  desperation,  not 
for  victory,  but  the  liberty  to  retreat.  Great 
names  were  mentioned  among  the  slain, 
and  the  proudest  chivalry  of  Gaul  left  to 
perish  on  the  far-off  steppes  of  Russia. 

Such  were  the  fearful  tales  men  read  of 
that  terrible  campaign  ;  and  the  joy  in 
England  was  great,  to  hear  that  the  most 
powerful  of  her  enemies  had  at  length  ex- 
perienced the  full  bitterness  of  defeat. 
While  men  vied  with  each  other  in  stories 
of  the  misfortunes  of  the  Emperor— when 
each  post  added  another  to  the  long  cala- 
loguc'of  disasters  to  the   "Grand  Army," 


608 


CHARLES  LEVERS    WORKS. 


I  sat  in  my  lonely  house,  in  a  remote  part 
of  Ireland,  brooding  over  the  sad  reverses 
of  him    who   still    conned  my  ideal   of  a 

:i;"  '0. 

I  thought  how,  amid  the  crumbling  ruins 
of  his  splendid  force,  his  great  soul  would 
survive  the  crash,  that  made  all  others 
despair— that  each  new  evil  would  suggest 
its  remedy,  as  it  arose,  and  the  mind  that 
never  failed  in  expedient  would  shine  out 
more  brilliantly  through  the  gloom  of 
darkening  fortune,  than  even  it  had  done 
in  the  noonday  splendor  of  success.  When 
all  others  could  only  see  the  tremendous 
energy  of  despair,  I  thought  I  could  recog- 
nize those  glorious  outbursts  of  heroism 
by  which  a  French  army  sought  and  won 
the  favor  of  their  Emperor.  The  routed 
and  straggling  bodies  which  hurried  along 
in  seeming  disorder,  I  gloried  to  perceive 
could  assume  all  the  port  and  bearing  of 
soldiers  at  the  approach  of  danger,  and  form 
their  ranks  at  the  wild  "houra"  of  the 
Cossack,  as  steadily  as  in  the  proudest  day 
of  their  prosperity. 

The  retreat  continued.  The  horrible  suf- 
fering of  a  Russian  winter  added  to  the 
carnage  of  a  battle-tide,  which  flowed  on 
unceasingly,  from  the  ruined  walls  of  the 
Kremlin  to  the  banks  of  the  Vistula.  The 
battle  of  Borisow  and  the  passage  of  the 
Berezina  followed  fast  on  each  other  ;  and 
now  we  heard  that  the  Emperor  had  sur- 
rendered the  chief  command  to  Murat,  and 
was  hastening  back  to  France  with  light- 
ning speed,  for  already  the  day  of  his  evil 
fortune  had  thrown  its  shadow  over  the 
capital.  No  longer  reckoned  by  tens  of 
thousands,  that  vast  array  had  now  dwin- 
dled down  to  divisions  of  a  few  hundred 
men.  The  Old  Guard  scarce  exceeded 
one  thousand  ;  and  of  twenty  entire  regi- 
ments of  cavalry,  Murat  mustered  a  single 
squadron  as  a  body-guard.  Crowds  of 
wounded  and  mutilated  men  dragged  their 
weary  limbs  along  over  the  hardened  snow, 
or  through  dense  pine  forests,  where  no 
villages  were  to  be  met  with — a  fatuous  de- 
termination to  strive  to  reach  France  the 
only  impulse  surviving  amid'  all  their  suf- 
ferings. 

With  the  defections  of  D'York  and  Mas- 
senbach  then  began  that  new  feature  of 
disaster  which  was  so  soon  to  burst  forth 
with  all  the  fell  fury  of  long  pent  up  hatred. 
The  nationality  of  Germany — so  long — so 
cruelly  insulted — now  saw  the  day  of  retri- 
bution arrive.  Misfortune  hastened  mis- 
fortune, and  defeat  engendered  treason  in 
the  ranks  of  the  Emperor's  allies.  Murat, 
too,  the  favorite  of  Napoleon,  the  king  of 
hie  creation,  deserted   him   now,  and  fled 


ignominiously  from  the  command  of  the 
army. 

"The  Elbe!  the  Elbe!"  was  now  the 
cry  amid. the  shattered  ranks  of  thai  army, 
which  but  a  year  before  saw  no  limit  to  ite 
glorious  path.  The  Elbe  was  the  only  line re- 
maining  which  promised  a  moment's  repose 
from  the  fatigues  and  privations  of  months 
long.  Along  that  road  the  army  could 
halt,  and  stem  the  tide  of  pursuit,  however 
hotly  it  pressed.  The  Prussians  had  al- 
ready united  with  the  Russians — the  defec 
tion  of  Austria  could  not  be. long  distant. 
Saxony  was  appealed  to,  as  a  member  of 
the  German  family,  to  join  in  arms  against 
the  tyrant;  and  the  wild  "houra"  of  the 
Cossack  now  blended  with  the  loud  "Vor- 
wiirts"  of  injured  Prussia. 

"  Where  shall  he  seek  succor  now  ?  What 
remains  to  him  in  this  last  eventful  strug- 
gle ?  How  shall  the  Emperor  call  back  to 
life  the  legions  by  wdiose  valor  his  great 
victories  were  gained,  and  Europe  made  a 
vassal  at  the  foot  of  his  throne?"  Such 
was  the  thought  that  never  left  me  day  or 
night.  Ever  present  before  me  was  his 
calm  brow,  and  his  face  paler,  but  not  Jess 
handsome  than  its  wont.  I  could  recall 
his  rapid  glance — the  quick  and  hurried 
motion  of  his  hand — his  short  and  thick 
utterance,  as  words  of  command  fell  from 
his  lips — and  his  smile,  as  he  heard  some 
intelligence  with  pleasure. 

I  could  not  sleep — scarcely  could  I  eat.  A 
feverish  -excitement  burned  through  my 
frame,  and  my  parched  tongue  and  hot 
hand  told  how  the  very  springs  of  health 
were  dried  up  within  me.  I  walked  with 
hurried  steps  from  place  to  place,  now 
muttering  the  words  of  some  dispatch- 
now  fancying  that  I  was  sent  with  orders 
for  a  movement  of  troops.  •  As  I  rode,  I 
spurred  my  horse  to  a  gallop,  and  in  my 
heated  imagination  believed  I  was  in  pres- 
ence of  the  enemy,  and  preparing  for  the 
fray.  Great  as  my  exhaustion  frequently 
was,  weariness  brought  no  rest.  Often  I 
returned  home  at  evening,  overcome  by  fa- 
tigue, but  a  sleepless  night,  tortured  with 
anxieties,  and  harassed  with  doubts  and 
fears,  followed,  and  I  awoke  to  pursue  the 
same  path,  till  in  my  weakened  frame  and 
hectic  cheek  the  signs  of  illness  could  no 
longer  be  mistaken. 

Terrified  at  the  ravages  a  few  weeks  had 
made  in  my  health,  and  fearful  what  secret 
malady  was  preying  upon  me,  Darby.,  with- 
out asking  any  leave  from  me.  left  the 
house  one  morning  at  daybreak,  and  re- 
turned with  the  physician  of  the  neighbor- 
ing town.  I  was  about  to  mount  my  horse, 
when  I  saw  them  coming  up  the  avenue. 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


G09 


and  immediately  guessed  the  object  of  the 
visit.  A  moment  was  enough  to  decide  me 
as  to  the  course  to  pursue  ;  for,  well  know- 
ing how  disposed  the  world  ever  is  to  stamp 
the  impress  of  wandering  intellect  on  any 
habit  of  mere  eccentricity,  I  resolved  to  re- 
ceive the  doctor  as  though  I  was  glad  of 
his  coming,  and  consult  with  him  regard- 
ing my  state.  This  would  at  least  refute 
such  a  scandal,  by  enlisting  the  physician 
among  the  allies  of  my  cause. 

By  good  fortune  Dr.  Clibborn  was  a  man 
of  shrewd  common  sense,  as  well  as  a  phy- 
sician of  no  mean  skill.  In  the  brief  con- 
versation we  held  together,  I  perceived  that 
while  he  paid  all  requisite  attention  to  any 
detail  which  implied  the  existence  of  mal- 
ady, his  cpiestions  were  more  pointedly  di- 
rected to  the  possibility  of  some  mental 
cause  of  irritation — the  source  of  my  ail- 
ment. I  could  see,  however,  that  his  opin- 
ion inclined  to  the  belief  that  the  events  of 
the  trial  had  left  their  indelible  traces  on 
my  mind,  which,  inducing  me  to  adopt  a 
life  of  isolation  and  retirement,  had  now 
produced  the  effects  he  witnessed. 

I  was  not  sorry  at  this  mistake  on  his 
part.  By  suffering  him  to  indiilge  in  this 
delusive  impression,  I  saved  myself  all  the 
trouble  of  concealing  my  real  feelings, 
which  I  had  no  desire  to  expose  before  him. 
I  permitted  him,  therefore,  to  reason  with 
me  on  the  groundless  notions  he  supposed 
I  had  conceived  of  the  world's  feeling  re- 
garding me,  and  heard  him  patiently?  as  he 
detailed  the  course  of  public  duty,  :cy  ful- 
filling which  I  should  occupy  my  fitting 
place  in  society,  and  best  consult  my  own 
health  and  happiness. 

"There  are,"  said  he.  "certain  fixed 
impressions,  which  I  would  not  so  combat- 
It  was  but  yesterday,  for  instance,  I  yielded 
to  the  wish  of  an  old  general  officer,  who 
has  served  upward  of  half  a  century,  and 
desires  once  more  to  put  himself  at  the  head 
of  his  regiment.  His  heart  was  bent  on  it. 
I  saw  that  though  he  might  consent  to 
abandon  his  purpose,  I  was  not  so  sure  his 
mind  might  bear  the  disappointment,  for 
the  intellect  will  sometimes  go  astray  in 
endeavoring  to  retrace  its  steps.  So  I 
thought  it  better  to  concede  what  might 
cost  more  in  the  refusal." 

The  last  words  of  the  doctor  remained  in 
my  head  long  after  he  took  his  leave,  and 
I  could  not  avoid  applying  them  to  my 
own  case.  Was  not  my  impression  of 
this  nature  ?  Were  not  my  thoughts  all 
centered  on  one  theme  as  fixedly  as  the 
.  officers  of  whom  he  spoke  ?  Could  I, 
by  any  effort  of  my  reason  or  my  will,  con- 
trol my  wandering  fancies,  and  call  them 
vol.  i.— 39 


back  to  the  dull  realities  amongst  which  I 
lived  ? 

These  were  ever  recurring  to  me,  and  al- 
ways with  the  same  reply.  It  is  in  vain  to 
struggle  against  an  impulse  which  has 
swallowed  up  all  other  ambitions.  My 
heart  is  among  the  glittering  ranks  and 
neighing  squadrons  of  France.  I  would 
be  there  once  more.  I  would  follow  that 
career  which  first  stirred  the  proudest  hopes 
1  ever  cherished. 

That  same  evening  the  mail  brought  the 
news  that  Eugene  Beauharnais  had  fallen 
back  on  Magdebourg,  and  sent  repeated 
dispatches  to  the  Emperor,  entreating  his 
immediate  presence  among  the  troops, 
whom  nothing,  but  Napoleon  himself  in  the 
midst  of  them,  could  restore  to  their  wont- 
ed bravery  and  determination.  The  reply 
of  Napoleon  was  briefly, 

"I  am  coming;  and  all  who  love  me, 
follow  me." 

How  the  words  rang  in  my  ears — "  Tous 
ceux  qui  m'aiment ! "  I  heard  them  in 
every  rustling  of  the  wind  and  motion  of 
the  leaves  against  the  window.  They  were 
whispered  to  my  sense  by  every  avenue  of 
my  brain,  and  I  sat  no  longer  occupied  in 
reading  as  usual,  but  with  folded  arms,  re- 
peating word  by  word  the  brief  sentence. 

It  was  midnight.  All  was  still  and  si- 
lent through  the  house.  No  servant  stirred, 
and  the  very  wind  was  hushed  to  a  perfect 
calm.  I  was  sitting  in  my  library  when 
the  words  I  have  repeated  seemed  spoken 
in  a  low,  clear  voice  beside  me.  I  started 
up — the  perspiration  broke  over  my  fore- 
head and  fell  upon  my  cheek  with  terror, 
for  I  knew  I  was  alone ;  and  the  fearful 
thought  flashed  on  me — this  may  be  mad- 
ness !  For  a  second  or  two  the  agony  of 
the  idea  was  almost  insupportable — then 
came  a  resolve  as  sudden.  I  opened  my 
desk  and  took  from  it  all  the  ready  money 
I  possessed.  I  wrote  a  few  hurried  lines  to 
my  agent,  and  then,  making  my  way  noise- 
lessly to  the  stable,  I  saddled  my  horse  and 
led  him  out. 

In  two  hours  I  was  nearly  twenty  miles 
on  my  way  to  Dublin.  Day  was  breaking  as 
I  entered  the  capital.  I  made  no  delay 
there,  but,  taking  fresh  horses,  started  for 
Skerries,  where  I  knew  the  fishermen  of 
the  coast  resorted. 

"  One  hundred  pounds  to  the  man  who 
will  land  me  on  the  coast  of  France  or 
Holland,"  said  I  to  a  group  that  were  pro- 
paring  their  nets  on  the  shore. 

A  look  of  incredulity  wTas  the  only  reply. 
A  veiy  few  words,  however,  settled  the 
bargain.  Ere  half  an  hour  I  was  on  board„ 
The  wind  freshened,  and  we  stood  out  to  sea0 


610 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


"  Let  ihe  breeze  keep  to  this,"  said  the 
skipper,  "and  we'll  make  the  voyage  quick- 
ly-" 

Both  wind  and   tide  were  in  our  favor. 

We  held  down  Channel  rapidly,  and  I  saw 
the  blue  hills  grow  fainter  and  fainter,  till 
•  the  eye  could  but  detect  a  gray  cloud  on 
dhe  horizon,  which  at  last  disappeared  in 
the  bright  sun  of  noon,  and  a  wide  waste 
of  blue  water  lay  on  every  side. 


CHAPTER   LXXXIII. 

THE    LAST   CAMPAIGN. 

The  snow,  half  melted  with  the  heavy 
rains,  lay  still  deeply  on  the  roads,  and  a 
dark,  lowering  sky  stretched  above,  as  I 
hurried  onward,  with  all  the  speed  I  could, 
toward  the  east  of  France. 
i  Already  the  allies  had  passed  the  Rhine. 
Schwartzenberg  in  the  south,  Bliicher  in 
the  east,  and  Bernadotte  on  the  Flemish 
■frontier,  were  conveying  their  vast  armies 
to  bear  down  on  him  whom,  singly,  none 
had  dared  to  encounter.  Ail  France  was 
in  arms,  and  every  step  was  turned  east- 
ward. Immense  troops  of  conscripts,  many 
scarce  of  the  age  of  boyhood,  crowded  the 
highways.  The  veterans  themselves  were 
enrolled  once  more,  and  formed  battalions 
for  the  defense  of  their  native  land.  Every 
ftown  and  village  was  a  garrison.  The 
deep-toned  rolling  of  ammunition  wagons, 
and  the  heavy  tramp  of  horses,  sounded 
through  the  nights  long.  War,  terrible 
war,  spoke  from  every  object  around. 
Strongholds  were  strengthening,  regiments 
brigading,  cavalry  organizing  on  all  sides. 
No  longer,  however,  did  I  witness  the  wild 
enthusiasm  which  I  so  well  remembered 
among  the  soldiers  of  the  army.  Here 
were  no  glorious  outbreaks  of  that  daring 
spirit  which  so  marked  the  Frenchman, 
and  made  him  almost  irresistible  in  arms. 
A  sad  and  gloomy  silence  prevailed  :  a  look 
of  fierce,  but  hopeless,  determination  was 
over  all.  They  marched  like  men  going 
to  death,  but  with  the  step  and  bearing  of 
heroes. 

I  entered  the  little  town  of  Venders. 
The  day  was  breaking,  but  the  troops  were 
under  amis.  The  Emperor  had  but  just 
taken  his  departure  for  Chalons-sur-Marne. 
They  told  me  of  it  as  I  changed  horses  ; 
not  with  that  fierce  pride  which  a  mere 
passing  glance  at  the  great  Napoleon  would 
once  have  evoked.  They  spoke  of  him 
without  emotion.     I  asked  if  he  were  paler 


bring 


or  thinner  than  his  wont :  they  did  not 
know.  They  said  that  he  traveled  post, 
but  that  his  staff  were  on  horseback  From 
this  I  gathered  that  he  was  either  ill,  or  in 
that  frame  of  mind  in  which  he  preferred 
to  be  alone.  While  I  was  ye1  speaking,  an 
officer  of  engineers  came  up  to  the  carriage, 
and  called  out, 

"Unharness  these  horses,  and 
them  down  to  the  barracks.  These,  sir, 
said  he,  turning  toward  me,  "  are  not  times 
to  admit  of  ceremony.  We  have  eighteen 
guns  to  move  and  want  cattle." 

"Enough,  sir.*'  said  I.  "I'm  not  here 
to  retard  your  movements,  but,  if  I  can,  to 
forward  them.  Can  I,  as  a  volunteer,  be 
of  any  service  at  this  moment?" 

"  Have  you  served  before  ?  Of  course 
you  have,  though.     In  what  arm  ?  " 

"Asa  Hussar  of  the  Guard  for  som® 
years. " 

"  Come  along  with  me  :  I'll  bring  you 
to  the  general  at  once." 

Re-entering  the  inn,  the  officer  preceded 
me  up-stairs,  and,  after  a  moment's  delay, 
introduced  me  into  the  presence  of  General 
Letort,  then  commanding  a  cavalry  bri- 
gade. 

"  I  have  heard  your  request,  sir.  Where 
is  your  commission  ?  Have  you  got  it  with 
you  ?  " 

I  handed  it  to  him  in  silence.  He  ex- 
amined it  rapidly,  and  then  turning  the 
reverse,  read  the  few  lines  inscribed  by  the 
minister  of  war. 

"  I  could  have  given  you  a  post  this  day, 
sir,  this  very  hour,"'  said  he,  "but  for 
a  blunder  of  our  commissariat  people. 
There's  a  troop  here  waiting  for  a  re-mount, 
but  the  order  has  not  come  down  from 
Paris,  and  our  officials  here  will  not  ad- 
vance the  money  till  it  arrives,  as  if  these 
were  times  for  such  punctilio.  They  are 
to  form  part  of  General  Kellermann's  force, 
which  is  sadly  deficient.  Remain  here, 
however,  and  perhaps  by  to-morrow — " 

"How  much  may  the  sum  be,  sir?" 
asked  I,  interrupting. 

The  general  almost  started  with  surprise 
at  the  abruptness  of  my  question,  and  in  .a 
tone  of  half  reproof  answered, 

"  The  amount  required  is  beside  the 
matter,  sir;  unless,"  added  he,  sarcasti- 
cally, "you  are  disposed  to  advance  it 
yourself. " 

"Such  was  the  object  of  my  question." 
said  I,  calmly,  and  determining  not  to  no- 
tice the  manner  he  had  assumed. 

<<Parblm  !  "  exclaimed  he,  "  that  is  very 
different.  Twenty  thousand  francs,  .how- 
ever, is  a  considerable  sum.'' 

"I  have  as  much,  and  something  more, 


TOM   BURKE   OF  "OURS." 


611 


if  need  be,  in  my  carriage— if  English  gold 
be  no  objection." 

"No,  pardieu,  that  it  is  not,"*  cried  he, 
laughing  ;  "I  only  wish  we  saw  more  of  it. 
Are  you  serious  in  all  this  ?" 

The  best  reply  to  his  question  was  to 
hasten  down-stairs  and  return  with  two 
small  canvas  bags  in  my  hands. 

"Here  are  one  thousand  guineas,"  said 
I,  laying  them  on  the  table. 

While  one  of  the  general's  aides-de- 
camp was  counting  and  examining  the 
gold,  I  repeated,  at  his  request,  the  cir- 
cumstances which  brought -me  once  again 
to  France,  to  serve  under  the  banner  of 
the  Emperor. 

"And.  your  name,  sir,"  said  he,  as  he 
seated  himself  to  write,  "  is  Thomas  Burke, 
ci-devant  captain  of  the  Eighth  Hussars  of 
the  Guard.  Well,  I  can  promise  you  the 
restoration  of  your  old  grade.  Meanwhile, 
you  must  take  command,  of  these  fellows— 
they  are  mere  partisan  troops,  hurriedly 
raised,  and  ill  organized  ;  but  I'll  give  you 
a  letter  to  General  Damremont,  at  Chalons, 
and  he'll  attend  to  you." 

"It  is  not  a  position  for  myself  I  seek, 
general,"  said  I.  "Wherever  I  can  best 
serve  the  Emperor,  there  only  I  desire  to 
be." 

"  I  have  ventured  to  leave  that  point  to 
General  Damremont,"  said  he,  smiling. 
"  Your  motives  do  not  require  much  ex- 
planation. Let  us  to  breakfast  now,  and 
by  noon  we  shall  have  everything  in  readi- 
ness for  your  departure." 

Thus  rapidly,  and  as  it  were  by  the 
merest  accident,  was  I  again  become  a  sol- 
dier of  the  Emperor,  and  that  same  day 
was  once  more  at  the  head  of  a  squadron, 
on  my  way  to  Chalons.  My  troop  were, 
indeed,  very  unlike  the  splendid  array  of 
tp.j  old  Hussars  of  the  Guard.  They  were 
hurriedly  raised,  and  not  over  well  equip- 
ped, but  still  they  were  stout-looking,  hardy 
peasants,  who,  whatever  deficiency  of  drill 
they  might  display,  I  knew  well  would  ex- 
hibit no  lack  of  courage  before  an  enemy. 

On  reaching  Chalons,  I  found  that  Gen- 
eral Damremont  had  left  with  the  staff  for 
Vitry  only  a  few  hours  before,  and  so  I  re- 
ported myself  to  the  officer  commanding 
the  town,  and  was  ordered  by  him  to  join 
the  cavalry  brigade  then  advancing  on 
Vitry. 

Had  I  time  at  this  moment.  I  could  not 
help  devoting  some  minutes  to  an  account 
of  that  strange  and  motley  mass  which 
then  were  brigaded  as  Imperial  cavalry. 
Dragoons  of  every  class,  heavy  and  light- 
armed,  grenadiers  a  cheval  and  hussars, 
cuirassiers,    carbineers,   and   lancers,  were 


all,  pell-mell,  mixed  up  confusedly  togeth- 
er, and  hurried  onward,  some  to  join  their 
respective  corps,  if  they  could  find  them, 
but  all  prepared  to  serve  wherever  their 
sabres  might  be  called  for.  It  was  confu- 
sion to  the  last  degree,  but  a  tumuli  with- 
out enthusiasm  or  impulse.  The  superior 
officers,  who  were  well  acquainted  with  the 
state  -of  event:-,  made  no  secret  of  their 
gloomy  forebodings.  The  juniors  lacked 
energy  in  a  cause  where  they  saw  no  field 
for  advancement,  and  the  -oldie;.-,  always 
prepared  to  imbibe  their  feelings  from  their 
officers,  seemed  alike  sad  and  dispirited. 
What  a  change  was  this  from  the  wild  and 
joyous  spirit  which  once  animated  every 
grade  and  class— from  the  generous  enthu- 
siasm that  once  warmed  each  hold  heart, 
and  made  every  soldier  a  hero  !  Alas  !  the 
terrible  consequences  of  long  defeat  were 
on  all  ; — the  tide  of  battle  that  rolled  dis- 
astrously from  the  ruined  walls  of  the 
Kremlin  still  swept  along  toward  the  great 
palace  of  the  Tuileries.  Germany  had 
witnessed  the  destruction,  of  two  mighty 
armies — the  third  and  last  was  now  await- 
ing the  eventful  struggle  on  the  very  -^il 
of  their  country.  The  tide  of  fugitives, 
which  preceded  the  retiring  columns  of 
Victor  and  Ney,  met  the  advancing  bodies 
of  the  conscripts,  and  spread  dismay  and 
consternation  as  they  went.  The  dejection 
was  but  the  shadow  of  the  last  approaching 
disaster. 

On  the  night  of  the  27th  January,  the 
cavalry  brigade  with  which  I  was  received 
orders  to  march  by  the  Forest  of  Bar  on 
Brienne,  where  Bii'icher  was  stationed,  in 
no  expectation  of  being  attacked. 

The  movement,  notwithstanding  the 
heavy  roads,  was  made  with  great  rapidity, 
and  by  noon  on  the  following  day  we  came 
up  with  the  main  body  of  the  army  in  full 
march  against  the  enemy.  Then,  once 
more,  did  I  recognize  the  old  spirit  of  the 
army.  Joyous  songs  and  gay  cheers  were 
heard  from  the  different  corps  we  passed. 
The  announcement  of  a  speedy  meeting 
with  the  Prussians  had  infused  new  vigor 
among  the  troops.  We  were  emerging 
frm  the  deep  shade  of  the  wood  into  a  val- 
ley, where  a  light  infantry  regiment  were 
bivouacked.  Their  fires  were  formed  in  a 
wide  circle,  and  the  cooking  went  merrily 
on,  amid  the  pleasant  song  and  jocund 
cries.  Our  own  brief  halt  was  just  con- 
cluded, when  the  bugles  sounded  to  re- 
sume the  march,  and  I  stood  for  a  moment 
admiring  the  merry  gambols  of  the  infan- 
try, when  an  air  I  well  remembered  was 
chanted  forth  in  full  chorus  :  but  my  mem- 
ory was  not  left  lone:  in  doubt  as  to  where 


012 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


and  how  these  sounds  were  first  heard. 
The  wild  uproar  al  oner  recalled  both,  as 
they  sang  out, 

•  "  Hurrah  for  the  Faubourg  of  St.  Antoine!" 

No  sooner  did  I  hear  the  words,  than  1 
spurred  my  horse  forward  and  rode  down 
toward  them. 

"What  regiment's  yours,  comrade?" 
said  I  to  a  fellow  hurrying  to  the  ranks. 

"The  Fifth,  man  officier,"  said  he — 
"Yoltigeurs  of  the  line.'* 

"Have  you  a  certain  Francois,  a  naaitre 
d'armes,  still  among  you  ?" 

"Yes, that  we  have.  There  he  is,  yonder, 
heating  time  to  the  roulade." 

I  looked  in  the  direction  he  pointed,  and 
there  stood  my  old  friend.  He  was  advanced 
in  front  of  a  company,  and  with  the  air  of 
a  tambour-major  he  seemed  as  if  he  was  giv- 
ing the  time  to  the  melody. 

"  Ah,  sacre  conscripts  that  ye  are  !  "  cried 
he,  as  with  his  fist  clenched  he  gesticulated 
fiercely  toward  them.  "  Can't  ye  keep  the 
measure  ?  Once,  now,  and  all  together. 
Picardy  first,  and  then — " 

'•'Holloa  !  Maitre  Francois,  can  you  re- 
member an  old  friend  ?  " 

The  little  man  turned  suddenly,  and, 
bringing  his  hand  to  the  salute,  remained 
stiff  and  erect,  as  if  on  parade. 

"  Connais  pas,  mon  capitaine,"  was  his 
answer,  after  a  considerable  pause. 

"  What !  not  know  me  ! — me,  whom  you 
made  one  of  your  own  gallant  company, 
calling  me  '  Burke  of  Ours  ?' ' 

"Ah,  par  la  barbe  de  St.  Pierre!  is  this 
my  dear  comrade  of  the  Eighth  ?  Why, 
where  have  you  been  ?  They  said  you  left 
us  for  ever  and  aye  ?  " 

"  I  tried  it,  Francois,  but  it  wouldn't  do." 

" Mille  bombes!"  said  he,  "but  you're 
back  in  pleasant  times — to  see  the  Cossacks 
learning  to  drink  champagne,  and  leave  us 
to  pay  the  score.  Come  along,  however — 
take  your  old  place  here.  You  are  free  to 
choose  now,  and  needn't  be  a  dragoon  any 
longer  ;  not  but  that  your  oldgeneral  will  be 
glad  to  see  you  again." 

"  General  D'Auvergne — where  is  he 
now  ?  " 

"With  the  light  cavalry  brigade,  in 
front.  I  saw  him  pass  here  two  hours 
since." 

"  And  how  looks  he,  Francois  ?" 

"A  little  stooped,  or  so,  more  than  you 
knew  him  ;  but  his  seat  in  the  saddle  seems 
just  as  firm.  Ventrebleu  !  if  he'd  been  a 
voltigeur,  he'd  be  a  good  man  these  ten 
years  to  come." 

Delighted  to  learn  that  I  was  so  near  my 


dearest  and  oldest  friend  in  the  world,  1 
shook  Francois's  hand,  and  parted  ;  but 
not  without  a  pledge  that,  whenever  1  join- 
ed the  infantry,  the  Fifth  Yoltigeurs  of  the 
Line  were  to  have  the  preference. 

As  we  advanced  toward  Brienne  the  dis- 
tant thunder  of  large  guns  was  heard,  which 
gradually  grew  louder  and  more  sustained, 
and  betokened  that  the  battle  had  already 
begun.  The  roads,  blocked  up  with  dense 
masses  of  infantry  and  long  trains  of  wag- 
ons, prevented  our  rapid  advance ;  and 
when  we  tried  the  fields  at  either  side,  the 
soil,  cut  up  with  recent  rains,  made  us  sink 
to  the  very  girths  of  our  horses..  Still,  or- 
der after  order  came  for  the  troops  to  press 
forward,  and  every  effort  was. made  to  obey 
the  command. 

It  was  five  o'clock  as  we  debouched  into 
the  plain,  and  beheld  the  fields  whereon  the 
battle  had  been  contested  ;  for  already  the 
enemy  wore  retiring,  and  the  French  troops 
in  eager  pursuit.  Behind,  however,  lay  the 
town  of  Brienne,  still  held  by  the  Russians, 
but  now  little  better  than  a  heap  of  smok- 
ing ruins,  the  tremendous  fire  of  the  French 
artillery  having  reduced  the  place  to  ashes. 
Conspicuous  above  ail  rose  the  dismantled- 
walls  of  the  ancient  military  college — the 
school  where  Napoleon  had  learned  his  first 
lesson  in  war — where  first  he  essayed  to 
point  those  guns  which  now  with  such  fear- 
ful havoc  he  turned  against  itself. 

What  a  strange,  sad  subject  of  contempla- 
tion for  him  who  now  gazed  on  it !  On 
either  side  the  fire  of  the  artillery  contin- 
ued till  nightfall  ;  but  the  Russians  still 
held  the  town.  A  few  straggling  shots 
closed  the  combat,  and  darkness  now  spread 
over  the  wide  plain,  save  where  the  watch- 
fires  marked  out  the  position  of  the  French 
troops.  A  sudden  flash  of  lurid  flame, 
however,  threw  its  gleam  over  the  town, 
and  a  wild  cheer  was  heard  rising  above  the 
clatter  of  musketry.  It  was  a  surprise  par- 
ty of  grenadiers,  who  had  forced  their  way 
into  the  grounds  of  the  old  chateau,  where 
Bliicher  held  his  head -quarters.  Louder 
and  louder  grew  the  firing,  and  a  red  glare 
in  the  dark  sky  told  how  the  battle  was 
raging. 

Up  that  steep  street,  at  the  top  of  which 
the  venerable  chateau  stood,  poured  the  in- 
fantry columns  in  a  run.  The  struggle  was 
short  The  dull  sound  of  the  Russia n 
drum  soon  proclaimed  a  retreat  ;  and  a 
rocket  darting  through  the  black  sky  an- 
nounced to  the  Emperor  that  the  position 
had  been  won. 

The  next  day  the  Emperor  fixed  his  head- 
quarters at  the  chateau,  and  a'  battalion  of 
the  guard  bivouacked  in  the  park  around 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS. 


613 


ifc.  I  had  sent  forward  the  letter  to  Gen- 
eral Damremont,  and  was  wondering  when, 
and  in  what  terms,  the  reply  might  come, 
when  the  general  himself  rode  up,  accom- 
panied by  a  single  aide-de-camp. 

"  I  have  had  the  opportunity,  sir,  to 
speak  of  your  conduct  in  the  proper  quar- 
ter," said  he,  courteously,  "and  the  result 
is,  your  appointment  as  major  of  the  Tenth 
Hussars,  or,  if  you  prefer  it,  the  staff." 

"  Wherever,  sir,  my  humble  services  can 
best  be  employed.     I  have  no  other  wish." 

"  Then  take  the  regimental  rank,"  said 
he  ;  "your  brigade  will  see  enough  of  hot 
work  ere  long.  And  now  push  forward  to 
Mezieres,  where  .you'll  find  your  regiment. 
They  have  received  orders  to  march  to-mor- 
row, early." 

I  was  not  sorry  to  be  relieved  from  the 
command  of  my  irregular  horse,  who  went 
by  the  title  of  "  brigands "  in  the  army 
generally;  though,  if  truth  were  to  be  told, 
the  reproach,  on  the  score  of  honesty,  came 
ill  from  those  who  conferred  it.  Still,  it 
was  a  more  gratifying  position  to  hold  a 
rank  in  a  regiment  of  regular  cavalry,  and 
one  whose  reputation  was  second  to  none  in 
•the  service. 

"I  wish  to  present  myself  to  the  colonel 
in  command,  sir,"  said  I,  addressing  an 
officer,  who,  with  two  or  three  others,  stood 
chatting  at  the  door  of  a  cottage. 

"You'll  find  him  here,  sir,"  said  he, 
pointing  to  the  hut.  But,  as  he  spoke,  the 
clank  of  a  sabre  was  heard,  and  at  the  same 
instant  a  tall,  soldier-like  figure  stooped 
beneath  the  low  doorway,  and  came  forth. 

"The  Colonel  of  the  Tenth,  I  pre- 
sume ?  "  said  I,  handing  the  dispatch  from 
General  Damremont. 

"  What  !  my  old -college  friend  and  com- 
panion ! "  cried  the  Colonel,  as  he  stepped 
back  in  amazement ;  "  have  1  such  good 
fortune  as  to  see  you  in  my  regiment  ?" 

"  Can  it  be  really  so  ?  "  said  I,  in  equal 
astonishment.     "  Are  you  Tascher  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear  friend,  the  same  Tascher 
you  used  to  disarm  so  easily  at  college — a 
colonel  at  last.  But  why  are  you  not  at  the 
head  of  a  regiment  long  since  ?  Oh  !  I 
forgot,  though,"  said  he,  in  some  confusion  ; 
"I  heard  all  about  it.  But,  come  in  here 
— I've  no  better  quarters  to  offer  you,  but, 
such  as  it  is,  make  it  yours." 

My  old  companion  of  the  Polytcchnique 
was,  indeed,  little  altered  by  time — careless, 
inconsiderate,  and  good-hearted  as  ever. 
He  told  me  that  he  had  only  gained  the 
command  of  the  regiment  a  few  weeks  be- 
fore ;  "and,"  added  he,  "if  matters  mend 
not  soon,  I  am  scarcely  like  to  hold  it 
much  longer.     The  dispatches  just  received 


tell  that  the  allies  are  concentrating  at 
Trannes,  and  if  so,  wo  shall  have  a  battle 
against  overwhelming  odds.  No  matter, 
Burke,  you  have  got  into  a  famous  corps — 
they  light  splendidly  ;  and  my  excellent 
uncle,  his  majesty,  loves  to  indulge  their 
predilection." 

I  passed  the  day  with  Tascher,  chatting 
over  our  respective  fortunes;  and  in  dis- 
cussing the  past  and  the  future  the  greater 
part  of  the  night  went  over.  Before  dawn, 
however,  we  were  on  the  march  toward 
Chaumiere,  whither  the  army  was  directed, 
and  the  Emperor  himself  then  stationed. 

It  was  the  1st  of  February,  and  the 
weather  was  dark,  lowering,  and  gloomy.  A 
cold  wind  drove  the  snowdrift  in  fitful 
gusts  before  it,  and  the  deep  roads  made 
our  progress  slow  and  difficult.  As  our 
line  of  advance,  however,  was  not  that  by 
which  the  other  divisions  were  marching, 
it  was  already  past  noon  before  we  knew 
that  the  enemy  was  but  three  leagues  distant. 

On  advancing  further,  we  heard  the  faint 
sounds  of  a  cannonade,  and  then  they  grew 
louder  and  louder,  till  the  whole  air  seemed 
tremulous  with  the  concussion. 

"A  heavy  fire,  colonel,"  said  a  veteran 
officer  of  the  regiment.  "  I  should  guess 
there  are  not  less  than  eighty  or  a  hundred 
guns  engaged." 

"Press  on,  men,  press  on  !"  cried  Tas- 
cher. "  When  his  majesty  provides  shcIi 
music,  it's  scarcely  polite  to  be  late." 

At  a  quick  trot  we  came  on,  and  about 
three  o'clock  debouched  in  the  plain  behind 
Oudinot's  battalions  of  reserve,  which  were 
formed  in  two  dense  columns,  about  a  hun- 
dred yards  apart. 

"  Hussars  to  the  front !  "  cried  an  aide- 
de-camp,  as  he  galloped  past,  and  waved 
his  cap  in  the  direction  of  the  space  be- 
tween the  columns. 

In  separate  squadrons  we  penetrated 
through  the  defile,  and  came  out  on  an  open 
plain  behind  the  center  of  the  first  line. 

The  ground  was  sufficiently  elevated  here, 
so  that  I  could  overlook  the  front  line  ;  but 
all  I  could  see  was  a  dense,  heavy  smoke, 
which  intervened  between  the  two  positions, 
in  the  midst  of  which,  and  directly  in  front, 
a  village  lay.  Toward  this,  three  columns 
of  infantry  were  converging,  and  around, 
the  sounds  of  battle  were  raging.  This  was 
La  Giberie.  The  hamlet  formed  the  key 
of  the  French  position,  and  had  been  twice 
carried  by,  and  twice  regained  from,  the 
allies.  As  I  looked,  the  supporting  columns 
halted,  wheeled,  and  retired,  while  a  tre- 
mendous shower  of  grape  was  poured  upon 
them  from  the  village,  which  now  seemed 
to  have  been  retaken  by  the  allies. 


03  4 


CHARLES  LEVER'S    WORKS. 


"Cavalry  to  the  front!"  was  now  the 
order;  and  a  force  of  six  thousand  sabres 
advanced  from  between  the  battalions,  and 
formed  for  attack.  It  was  Nansouty  who 
led  them,  and  his  heavy  cuirassiers  were  in 
the  van  ;  and  then  came  the  grenadiers  a 
cheval  ;  ours  Avas  the  third,  in  column. 
A*  each  regiment  debouched,  the  word 
"  Cli urge  !  "  rang  out,  and  forward  we  went. 
The  snow  drifting  straight  against  us,  we 
could  see  nothing,  nor  was  I  conscious  of 
any  check  to  our  course,  till  the  shaking  of 
the  vast  column  in  front,  and  then  the 
opening  of  the  squadrons,  denoted  resist- 
ance, when  suddenly  a  flash  flared  out,  and 
a  hurricane  of  cannon-shot  tore  through 
our  dense  files.  Then  I  knew  that  we 
were  attacking  a  battery  of  guns,  and  not 
till  then.  Mad.  cheers,  and  cries  of  wounded 
men,  burst  forth  upon  the  air,  with  the 
clashing  din  of  sabres  and  small-arms. 
The  mass  of  cavalry  appeared- to  heave  and 
throb  like  some  great  monster  in  its  agony. 
The  trumpet  to  retreat  sounded,  and  we 
galloped  back  to  our  lines,  leaving  about 
five  hundred  dead  behind  us,  on  a  field 
where  I  had  not  yet  seen  the ,  enemy. 
Meanwhile-  the  Eussians  were  assembling  a 
mighty  force  around  the  village,  for  now 
the  cannonade  opened  with  tenfold  vigor  in 
front,  and  fresh  guns  were  called  up  to 
reply  to  the  fire.  Hitherto  all  was  shrouded 
in  the  blue  smoke  of  the  artillery,  and  the 
dense  flakes  of  the  snowdrift,  when  sud- 
denly a  storm  of  wind  swept  past,  carrying 
with  it  both  sleet  and  smoke,  and  now, 
within  less  than  five  hundred  yards,  we  be- 
held the  allied  armies  in  front  of  us.  Two 
of  the  three  villages,  which  formed  our 
advanced  position,  already  had  been  carried, 
and  toward  the  third,  La  Eothiere,  they 
were  advancing  quickly. 

Ney's  corps,  ordered  up  to  its  defense, 
rushed  boldly  on,  and  the  clattering  mus- 
ketry announced  that  they  were  engaged, 
while  twelve  guns  were  moved  up,  in  full 
gallop,  to  their  support,  and  opened  their 
fire  at  once.  Scarce  had  they  done  so, 
when  a  wild  hurrah  was  heard,  and,  like  a 
whirlwind,  a  vast  mass  of  cavalry,  the  cos- 
sacks  of  the  Don  and  the  Uhlans  of  the 
South,  commingled  and  mixed,  bear  down 
on  the  guns.  The  struggle  is  for  life  or 
death.  No  quarter  given.  Ney recalls  his 
columns,  and  the  guns  are  lost. 

"  Who  shall  bring  the  Emperor  the  tid- 
ings ?  "  said  Tascher,  as  his  voice  trembled 
with  excitement.  "I'd  rather  storm  the 
battery  single-handed  than  do  it." 

"Tie  has  seen  worse  than  that  already 
to-day,"  said  an  aide-de-camp  at  our  side. 
'Tie  has  seen  Lahorie's  squadrons  of  the 


Dragoons  of  the  Guard  cut  to  pieces  by  the 
Russian   horse." 

"The  Guard!  the  Guard!"  repeated 
Tascher,  in  accents  where  doubt  and  de- 
spair were  blended, 

"  There  goes  another  battalion  to  certain 
death,"  muttered  the  aide-de-camp,  as  he 
pointed  to  a  column  of  grenadiers  emerging 
from  the  front  line.  "See,  I  knew  ii  well, 
they  are  moving  on  La  Eothiere.  But  here 
comes  the  Emperor." 

Before  I  could  defect  the  figure  among 
the  crowd,  the  staff  tore  rapidly  past,  fol- 
lowed by  a  long  train  of  cavalry  moving 
toward  the  left. 

"His  favorite  stroke,"  said  Tascher: 
"an  infantry  advance,  and  a  flank  move- 
ment with  cavalry." 

And  as  the  words  escaped  him,  we  saw 
the  horsemen  bearing  down  at  top  speed 
toward  the  village.  But  now  we  could  look 
no  longer  ;  our  brigade  was  ordered  to  sup- 
port the  attack,  and  we  advanced  at  a  trot. 
The  enemy  saw  the  movement,  and  a  greai 
mass  of  cavalry  were  thrown  out  to  meet  it. 

"  Here  they  come  !  "  was  the  cry  repeated 
by  three  or  four  together,  and  the  earth 
shook  as  the  squadrons  came  down.  Our- 
column  dashed  forward  to  meet  them, 
when  suddenly  through  the  drift  we  beheld 
a  mass  of  fugitives,  scattered  and  broken, 
approaching.  They  were  our  own  cavalry, 
routed  in  the  attempt  on  the  flank,  now  fly- 
ing to  the  rear  broken  and  disordered. 

Before  we  could  cover  their  retreat,  the 
enemy  were  upon  us.  The  shock  was 
dreadful,  and  for  some  minutes  carried  all 
before  it;  but  then  rallying,  the  brave 
horsemen  of  France  closed  up  and  faced 
the  foe.  How  vain  all  the  efforts  of  the 
redoubted  warrior  of  the  Dnieper  and  the 
Wolga  against  the  stern  soldier  of  Napoleon. 
Their  sabres  flashed  like  lightning  glances, 
and  as  fatally  bore  down  on  all  before  them  ; 
and  as  the  routed  squadrons  fell  back,  the 
wild  cheers  of  Vive  V Empereur  !  told  that 
one  great  moment  of  success  at  least  atoned 
for  the  misfortunes  of  the  day, 

"His  majesty  saw  your  charge,  colonel," 
said  a  general  officer  to  Tascher,  as  ho  rode 
back  at  the  head  of  a  squadron.  "So  gal- 
lant a  thing  as  that  never  goes  unrewarded. " 

Tascher's  cheek  flushed  as  he  bowed  in 
acknowledgment  of  the  praise,  but  I  heard 
him  mutter  to  himself  the  same  instant : 
"  Too  late— too  late  !  "  Fatal  words  they 
were — the  presage  of  the  mishap  they  threat- 
ened ! 

A  great  attack  on  La  Eothiere  was  now 
preparing.  It  was  to  be  made  by  Napo- 
leon's favorite  maneuver  of  cavalry,  artillery, 
and  infantry  combined,  each  supporting  and 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OURS. 


615 


sustaining  the  other.     Eighteen  guns,  with  | 
three  thousand  sabres,  and  two  columns  of  ; 
infantry,   numbering  four  thousand  each,  ! 
were  drawn  up  in  readiness  for  the  moment 
to    move.'    Ney    received    orders    to    lead 
them,  and  now  they  issued  forth  into  the 
plain. 

Our  own  impatience  at  not  being  of  the 
number  was  quickly  merged  in  intense  anx- 
iety for  the  result.  It  was  a  gorgeous 
thing,  indeed,  to  see  that  mighty  mass  un- 
raveling itself.  The  guns  galloping  madly 
to  the  front,  supported  on  either  Hank  by 
cavalry ;  while,  masked  behind,  marched 
the  black  columns  of  infantry,  their  tall 
shakos  nodding  like  the  tree-tops  of  a  for- 
est. The  snow  was  now  falling  fast,  and 
the  figures  grew  fainter  and'  fainter,  and 
all  that  remained  within  our  view  was  the 
tad  of  the  columns  which  were  only  disen- 
gaging themselves  from  the  lines.  A  deaf- 
ening cannonade  opened  from  the  allied 
artillery  on  the  advance,  unreplied  to  by 
our  guns,  which  were  ordered  not  to  fire 
until  withing  half  range  of  the  enemy. 
Suddenly  a  figure  is  seen  emerging  from 
the  heavy  snowdrift  at  the  full  speed  of 
his  horse.  Another  and  another  follow 
him  in  quick  succession.  They  make  for 
the  position  of  the  Emperor.  ''What  can 
it  be?"  cries  each,  in  horrible  suspense. 
"See  !  the  columns  have  halted."  Dread- 
ful tidings  !  The  guns  are  imbedded  in 
the  soft  ground — the  horses  cannot  stir 
them— one-half  of  the  distance  is  scarcely 
won — and  there  they  are  beneath  the  with- 
ering cannonade  of  the  allied  guns,  power- 
less and  immovable.  Cavalry  are  dis- 
mounted, and  the  horses  harnessed  to  the 
teams — all  in  vain — the  wheels  sink  deeper 
in  the  miry  earth  ;  and  now  the  enemy 
have  found  out  the  range,  and  their  shot 
are  sweeping  through  the  dense  mass  with 
frightful  slaughter.  Again  the  aides-de- 
camp hasten  to  the  rear  for  orders  ;  but 
Ney  can  wait  no  longer.  He  launches  his 
cavalry  at  the  foe,  and  orders  up  the  in- 
fantry to  follow.  Meanwhile  a  great  cloud 
of  cavalry  issues  from  the  allied  lines,  and 
directs  its  course  toward  the  flank  of  the 
column.  The  Emperor  sees  the  danger, 
and  dispatches  one  of  his  staff  to  prepare 
them  to  receive  cavalry.  Too  late  !  too 
late  !  The  snowdrift  has  concealed  the  ad- 
vance, and  the  wild  horsemen  of  the  desert 
ride  down  on  the  brave  ranks.  Disorder 
and  confusion  ensue.  The  column  breaks 
and  scatters.  The  lancers  pursue  the  fu- 
gitives through  the  plain,  and  before  the 
very  eyes  of  the  Emperor,  the  Guard — his 
Guard — are  sabred  and  routed. 

"What  is  to  become  of  our  cavalry  ? "  is 


now  the  cry;  "for  they  have  advanced 
unsupported  against  the  village  !"  Dread- 
ful moment  of  suspense  !  Hone  can  see 
them.  The  guns  lie  deserted,  alike  by 
friend  and  foe.  Who  dares  approach  tin  ni 
now?  "They  are  cheering  yonder,"  ex- 
claimed an  officer.      "I  hear  them  again. "- 

i'  Hussars,  to  the  front  !  "  calls  out  1  >  .m- 
remont ;  "  to  your  comrades'  rescue  !  Men, 
yonder  !"  and  he  points  in  the  direction  of 
the  village. 

Like  an  eagle  on  the  swoop,  the  swift 
squadrons  skim  the  plain,  and  mount  the 
slope  beyond  it.  The  drift  clears,  and 
what  a  spectacle  is  before  us!  The  cavalry 
are  dismounted-;  their  horses,  dead  or  liv- 
ing, cumber  the  ground  ;  the  men,  sabre 
in  hand,  have  attacked  the  village  by 
assault.  Two  of  the  enemy?s  guns  are 
taken,  and  turned  against  them  ;  and  the 
walls  are  won  in  many  places. 

An  opening  in  the  inclosure  of  a  farm- 
yard admits  our  leading  squadron  ;  and  in 
an  instant  we  have  taken  them  in  flank  and 
rear. 

The  Eiissians  will  neither  retreat  nor 
surrender  ;  and  the  carnage  is  awful  :  for. 
though  overpowered  by  numbers,  they  still 
continue  the  slaughter,  and  deal  death 
while  dying.  The  chief  farm-house  of  the 
village  has  been  carried  by  our  troops  ;  but 
the  enemy  still  holds  the  garden.  The  low 
hedge  offers  a  slight  obstacle,  and  over  it 
we  dash,  and  down  upon  them  ride  the 
gallant  Tenth  with  cheers  of  victory. 

At  this  instant  the  crashing  sound  of 
cannon-shot  among  masonry  is  heard.  It 
is  the  allied  artillery,  which,  regardless  of 
their  own  troops,  has  opened  on  the  village. 
Every  discharge  tells  ;  the  range  is  at 
quarter  distance  ;  and  whole  files  fall  at 
every  fire.  The.  trumpet  sounds  a  retreat  ; 
and  I  am  endeavoring  to  collect  my  scat- 
tered followers,  when  my  eye  falls  on  the 
aiguillette  of  a  general  officer  among  the 
heap  of  dead ;  and  at  the  same  time  3 
perceive  that  some  old  and  gallant  officer 
has  fallen  sword  in  hand,  for  his  long 
white  hair  is  strewn  loosely  across  his  face. 
I  spring  down  from  my  horse  and  push 
back  the  snowy  locks,  and  with  a  shriek  of 
horror  I  recognize  the  friend  of  my  heart. 
General  d'Auvergne.  I  lift  him  in  my 
arms,  and  search  for  the  wound.  Alas  !  a 
grape-shot  had  torn  through  his  chest  and 
cut  asunder  that  noble  heart,  whose  every 
beat  was  honor.  Though  still  warm,  no 
ray  of  life  remained.  The  hand  I  had  so 
often  grasped  in  friendship,  I  wrung  now 
in  the  last  energy  of  despair,  and  fell  upon 
the  corpse  in  the  agony  of  my  grief, 

The  night  was  falling  fast ;  all  was  still 


tflG 


CHARLES  LEVERS    WORKS. 


around  me ;  none  remained  near;  the  vil- 
lage was  descried  by  both.  The  deafening 
din  of  the  cannonade  continued  ;  and  at 
times  some  straggling  shot  crashed  through 
the  crumbling  walls,,  and  brought  them 
thundering  to  the  earth — but  all  bad  fled. 
By  the  pale  crescent  of  a  new  moon  I  dug 
a -grave  beneath  the  ruined  wall  of  the 
farm-house.  The  labor  was  long  and  tedi- 
ous ;  but  my  breaking  heart  took  no  note 
of  time.  My  task  completed,  I  sat  down 
beside  the  grave,  and  taking  his  now  cold 
baud  in  mine,  pressed  it  to  my  lips.  Oh  ! 
could  I  have  shared  that  narrow  bed  of 
clay,  what  rapture  would  it  have  brought 
to  my  sorrowing  soul.  I  lifted  the  body 
and  iaid  it  gently  in  the  earth  ;  and  as  1 
arose,  I  found  that  something  had  en- 
tangled itself  in  my  uniform,  and  held  me. 
It  seemed  a  locket,  which  he  wore  by  a 
ribbon  round  his  neck.  I  detached  it  from 
its  place,  and  put  it  in  my  bosom.  One 
lock  of  the  snowy  hair  I  severed  from  his 
noble  head,  and  then  covered  up  the  grave. 
"  Adieu  forever ! "  I  muttered,  as  I 
wandered  from  the  spot.  It  was  the  death 
of  a  true  D'Auvergne — "on  the  field  of 
battle." 


CHAPTER   LXXXIV. 

THE      BRIDGE     OF     MONTEREAU. 

Ere  I  left  the  village,  a  shower  of  shells 
was  thrown  into  it  from  the  French  lines, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  the  whole  blazed  up 
in  a  red  flame,  and  threw  a  wide  glare  over 
the  battle-field.  Spurring  my  horse  to  his 
speed,  I  galloped  onward,  and  now  discov- 
ered that  our  troops  were  retiring  in  all 
haste.  The  allies  had  won  the  battle,  and 
Ave  were  falling  back  on  Brienne. 

Leaving  seventy-three  guns  in  the  hands 
of  the  enemy,  above  one  thousand  prison- 
ers, and  six  thousand  killed  in  battle, 
Napoleon  drew  off  his  shattered  forces,  and 
marched  through  the  long  darkness  of  a 
winter's  night.  Thus  ended  the  battle  of 
Arcis-sur-Aube,  the  most  fatal  for  the 
hopes  of  the  Emperor  since  the  dreadful 
day  of  Leipzic. 

From  that  hour  fortune  seemed  to  frown 
on  those  whose  arms  she  had  so  often 
crowned  with  victory  ;  and  he  himself,  the 
mighty  leader  of  so  many  conquering  hosts, 
stood  at  the  window  of  the  chateau  at 
Brienne  the  whole  night  long,  dreading 
lest  the  enemy  should  be  on  his  track.  He 
whose  battles  were  wont  to  be  the  ovations 
of  a  conquero::,  now  beheld  with  joy  his 
masses  retiring  unpursued. 


Why  should  1  dwell  on  a  career  of  disas- 
ter, or  linger  on  the  expiring  moments  of 
a  mighlv  empire  1J  Of  what  avail  now  are 
the  reinforcements  which  arrived  to  our 
aid  the  veteran  legions  of  the  Peninsula? 
The  cry  is  ever— "Too  late!  too  late!'' 
Dreadful  words,  heard  at  every  moment  ! 
— sad  omens  of  an  arni\  devoted  and  de- 
spairing !  From  Brienne  we  retreat  to 
Troyes — from  thence  to  Bar-sur-Aube — 
ever  nearer  and  nearer  to  that  capital  to 
which  the  allies  tend  with  wild  shouts  of 
triumph.  On  the  last  day  of  February, 
our  head-quarters  are  at  Nogent — not  thirty 
leagues  from  Paris — Nogent,  with  the 
great  forest  of  Fontainebleau  on  its  left, 
and  Meaux,  the  ancient  bishopric  of  the 
monarchy,  on  its  right,  and.  behind  that 
screen,  Paris  !  Leaving  Bourmont  in  com- 
mand of  the  line  which  holds  the  Austrians 
in  cheek,  the  Emperor  himself  hastens  to 
oppose  Bl iicher,  the  most  intrepid  and  the 
most  daring  of  all  his  enemies. 

A  cross-inarch  in  the  depth  of  winter, 
with  the  ground  covered  with  half-frozen 
snow,  will  bring  him  on  the  flank  of  the 
Prussian  army.  It  is  dared.  Dangers  and 
difficulties  beset  every  step — the  artillery 
are  almost  lost — the  cavalry  exhausted. 
But  the  cry  of  "  The  enemy  ! "  rouses  every 
energy ;  they  debouch  on  the  plain  of 
Champ- Aubert,  to  fall  on  the  moving  col- 
umn of  the  Russians  under  Alsufief.  Glo- 
rious stroke  of  fate  !  Victory  again  caresses 
the  spoiled  child  of  fortune.  The  enemy 
is  routed,  and  retires  on  Mont  mi  rail  and 
Chalons.  The  advanced  army  of  the  Prus- 
sians hear  the  cannonade,  and  fall  back  to 
support  the  allies  on  Montmirail ;  but  the 
Emperor  already  awaits  them  with  the 
battalions  of  the  old  Old  Guard,  and 
another  great  battle  ends  in  victory.  Areola 
and  Rivoli  were  again  remembered,  and 
recalled  by  victories  not  less  glorious,  and 
once  more  hope  returned  to  the  ranks  it 
seemed  to  have  quitted  forever.  Another 
dreadful  blow  is  aimed  at  Blucher's  columns, 
and  Marmont  attacks  them  at  Vaux- 
Ohamps,  and  the  army  of  Silesia  falls  back 
beaten  ;  and  now  the  Emperor  hastens  to- 
ward Nogent,  where  he  has  left  Bourmont, 
in  front  of  the  Austrians,  "  Too  late  !  too 
late  ! "  is  again  the  cry.  The  columns  of 
Oudinot  and  Victor  are  already  in  retreat. 
Schwartzenberg,  with  a  force  triple  their 
own,  advances  on  the  plains'  of  the  Seine. 
The  Cossacks  bivouac  in  the  forest  of  Fon- 
tainebleau. Staff-officers  hurry  onward 
with  the  news  that  the  Emperor  is  approach- 
ing ;  the  victorious  army  which  had  sub- 
dued Blucher  is  on  the  march,  reinforced 
by  the   veteran  cavalry  of  Spain  and  the 


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THEEE  GOES  ANOTHER  BATTALION  TO  CERTAIN   DEATH,"  MUTTERED  THE   AIDE-DE-CAMP,  AS   UK 
POINTED   TO  A  COLUMN  OF  GRENADIERS  EMEitGING   FROM    TiLhi  FilUNX   LINK.      (P.  614.) 


TOM  BURKE   OF  "OUBS. 


617 


tried  legions  of  the  Peninsula.  They  halt, 
and  form  in  battle.  The  allies  arrest  their 
steps  at  Nangis,  and  again  are  beaten. 
Nangis  becomes  another  name  of  glory  to 
the  ears  of  Frenchmen. 

Let  me  rest  one  instant  in  this  rapid  re- 
cital of  a  week  whose  great  deeds  not  even 
Napoleon's  life  can  show  the  equal  of — the 
last  flash  of  the  lamp  of  glory  eve  it  dark- 
ened forever.  Three  days  had  elapsed 
from  the  sad  hour  in  which  I  laid  my 
dearest  friend  in  his  grave,  ere  I  opened  the 
locket  I  had  taken  from  his  bosom.  The 
wild  work  of  war  mingled  its  mad  excite- 
ment in  my  brain  with  thoughts  of  deep 
sorrow,  and  I  lived  in  a  kind  of  fevered 
dream,  and  hurried  from  the  affliction 
which  beset  me  into  the  torrent  of  danger. 

The  gambler  who  cares  not  to  win  rarely 
loses — so  he  that  seeks  death  in  battle  comes 
unscathed  through  every  clanger.  Each 
day  I  threw  myself  headlong  into  some 
post  where  escape  seemed  scarcely  possible, 
but  recklessness  has  its  own  armor  of  safety. 

On  the  field  of  Montmirail  I  was  reported 
to  the  Emperor  ;  and  for  an  attack  on  the 
Austrian  rear-guard  at  Melun  made  colonel 
of  a  cuirassier  regiment  on  the  field  of 
ba/le.  Such  promotions  reigned  on  every 
side.  Hundreds  were  falling  each  day. 
Many  regiments  were  commanded  by  offi- 
cers of  twenty-three  or  twenty-four  years 
of  age.  Few  expected  to  carry  their  new 
epaulettes  beyond  the  engagement  they 
gained  them  in.  None  believed  the  Empire 
itself  could  survive  the  struggle.  Each 
played  for  a  mighty  stake.  Few  cared  to 
outlive  the  ■  game  itself.  The  Emperor 
showered  down  favors  on  the  heads  which 
each  battle-field  laid  low. 

It  was  on  the  return  from  Melun  I  first 
opened  the  locket,  which  I  continued  to 
wear  around  my  neck.  In  the  full  expan- 
sion of  a  momentary  triumph,  to  see  myself 
at  the  head  of  a  regiment,  I  thought  of 
him  who  would  have  participated  in  my 
pride.  I  was  sitting  in  the  doorway  of  a 
little  cabaret  on  the  roadside,  my  squadrons 
picketed  around  me,  for  a  brief  halt ;  and 
as  my  thoughts  recurred  to  the  brave 
D'Auvergne,  I  withdrew  the  locket  from 
my  bosom.  It  was  a  small  oval  case  of 
gold,  opcningby  a  spring.  I  touched  this, 
and,  as  I  did  so,  the  locket  sprang  open, 
and  displayed  before  me  a  miniature  of 
Marie  de  Mcudon.  Yes,  beautiful  as  I  had 
seen  her  in  the  forest  of  Versailles,  her  dark 
hair  clustering  around  her  noble  brow,  and 
her  eyes,  so  full  of  tender  loveliness,  were 
there,  shadowed  'by  their  deep  fringes,  as  I 
remembered  them.  The  lips  were  half 
parted,  as  though  the  artist  had  caught  the 


speaking  expression  ;  and,  as  I  gazed,  I 
could  fancy  that  voice,  so  musically  sweet, 
still  ringing  in  my  ears.  I  could  not  look 
on  it  enough.  The  features  recalled  the 
scenes  when  first  1  met  her,  and  the  strong 
current  of  love  against  which  so  Long  1 
struggled  and  contended  flowed  on  with 
tenfold  force  once  more.  Should  we  ever 
meet  again — and  how  ?  were  the  questions 
which  rushed  to  my  mind,  and  to  which 
hope  and  fear  dictated  the  replies.  The 
locket  was  a  present  from  the  Empress  to 
the  general — at  least,  so  I  interpreted  an 
inscription  on  the  back — and  this — shall  I 
confess  it  ? — brought  pleasure  to  my  heart. 

Like  one  whose  bosom  bore  some  won- 
drous amulet — some  charm  against  the  ap- 
proach of  danger — I  now  rode  at  the  head 
of  my  gallant  band.  Life  had  grown  dearer 
to  me,  without  death  becoming  more 
dreaded.  Her  image  next  my  heart  made 
me  feel  as  if  1  should  combat  beneath  her 
very  eyes ;  and  I  burned  to  acquit  myself 
as  became  one  who  loved  her.  A  wild, 
half  frantic  joy  animated  me  as  I  went,  and 
was  caught  by  the  gay  companions  around 
me. 

At  midnight  a  dispatch  reached  me,  or- 
dering me  to  hasten  forward  by  a  forced 
march  to  Montereau,  the  bridge  of  which 
town  was  a  post  of  the  greatest  importance, 
and  must  be  held  against  the  Austrians  till 
Victor  could  come  up.  AYe  lost  not  a  mo- 
ment. It  was  a  calm  frosty  night,  with  a 
bright  moon,  and  we  hastened  along  with- 
out halting.  About  an  hour  before  day- 
break we  were  met  by  a  cavalry  patrol,  who 
informed  us  that  Gerard  and  Victor  had 
both  arrived,  but  too  late.  Montereau  was 
held  by  the  Wurtemberg  troops,  Avho  gar- 
risoned the  village,  and  defended  the  bridge 
with  a  strong  force  of  artillery.  Twice  the 
French  troops  had  been  beaten  back  with 
tremendous  loss,  and  all  looked  for  the 
morrow,  to  renew  the  encounter.  We  con- 
tinued our  journey ;  and  as  the  sun  was 
rising,  discovered,  at  a  distance  on  the 
road  beside  the  river,  the  mass  of  an  infan- 
try column.  It  was  the  Emperor  himself, 
co"me  up  with  the  Guard,  to  attack  the 
position. 

Already  the  preparations  for  a  fierce  as- 
sault were  in  progress.  A  battery  of  twelve 
guns  wTas  posted  on  a  height  to  command 
the  bridge.  Another,  somewhat  more  dis- 
tant, overlooked  the  village  itself.  Differ- 
ent bodies  of  infantry  and  cavalry  were  dis- 
posed wherever  shelter  presented  itself,  and 
ready  for  the  command  to  move  forward. 
The  approach  to  the  bridge  was  by  a  wide 
road,  which  lay  for  some  distance  along  the 
river  bank,  and  this  was  deeply  channeled 


(3  18 


CHARLES  LEVER'S   WORKS. 


by  the  enemy's  artillery,  which,  stationed 
on  and  above  the  bridge,  seemed  to  defy 
any  attempt  to  advance. 

Never,  indeed,  did  an  enterprise  seem 
more  full  of  danger.  Every  house  which 
looked  on  the  bridge  was  crenelated  for 
small-arms,  and  garrisoned  by  sharpshoot- 
ers—the fierce  Jager  of  Germany,  whose 
rifles  are  the  boast  of  the  Vaterland.  Can- 
non bristled  along  the  heights,  their  wide 
mouths  pointed  to  that  devoted  spot — 
already  the  grave  of  hundreds.  Withdrawn 
under  cover  of  a  steep  hill,  my  regiment 
wa>  i mlted,  with  two  other  heavy  cavalry 
corps,  awaiting  orders,  and  from  the  crest 
of  the  ridge  I  could  observe  the  first  move- 
ments of  the  fight. 

As  usual,  a  fierce  cannonade  was  opened 
from  either  side,  which,  directed  mainly 
against  the  artillery  itself,  merely  resulted 
in  dismantling  a  stray  battery'  here  and 
there,  without  further  damage.  At  last 
the  hoarse  roll  of  a  drum  was  heard,  and 
the  head  of  an  infantry  column  was  seen 
advancing  up  the  road.  They  passed  be- 
neath a  rock,  on  which  a  little  group  of 
officers  were  standing,  and,  as  they  went,  a 
cheer  of  "  Vive  VEinpereur  !  "  broke  from 
them.  I  strained  my  eyes  toward  the  place, 
for  now  I  knew  the  Emperor  himself  was 
there.  I  could  not,  however,  detect  him 
in  the  crowd,  who  all  waved  their  hats  in 
encouragement  to  the  troops. 

On  they  went,  descending  a  steep  declivity 
of  the  high-road  to  the  bridge.  Suddenly 
the  cannonade  redoubles  from  the  side  of 
the  enemy  ;  the  shot  whistles  through  the 
air,  while  ten  thousand  muskets  peal  forth 
together.  I  rivet  my  eyes  to  watch  the 
column,  but  what  is  my  horror  to  perceive 
that  none  appear  upon  the  ridge  :  the  masses 
move  up — they  mount  the  ascent — they  dis- 
appear behind  it — and  then  are  lost  to  sight 
forever.  Not  one  escapes  the  dreadful 
havoc  of  the  guns,  which,  from  a  distance 
of  less  than  two  hundred  yards,  enfilades 
the  bridge. 

But  still  they  moved  up.  I  could  hear, 
from  where  I  lay,  the  commands  of  the  of- 
ficers, as  they  gave  the  word  to  their  com- 
panies. No  fear  nor  hesitation  there,  they 
went  to  death.  In  less  than  fifteen  minutes 
twelve  hundred  fell,  dead  or  wounded,  and 
at  last  the  signal  to  fall  back  was  given, 
and  the  shattered  fragment  of  a  column 
reeled  back  behind  the  ridge.  Again  the 
cannonade  opened,  and  increasing  on  both 
sides,  was  maintained  for  above  an  hour, 
without  intermission.  During  this,  our 
guns  did  tremendous  execution  on  the  vil- 
lage, but  without  effecting  anything  of  im- 
portance respecting  the  bridge. 


The  Grenadiers  of  the  Guard  had  reached 
the  scene  of  combat,  by  forced  marches, 
from  Nangis,  and  after  ;i  brief  time  to  re- 
cruit their  strength,  were  now  ordered  up. 
What  a  splendid  force  that  massive  column, 
conspicuous  by  their  scarlet  shoulder-knots 
and  tall  shakos  of  black  bearskin  !  With 
what  confidence  they  move  !  They  halt 
beneath  the  rock — the  Emperor  is  there  too 
— and  see,  the  officer  who  stands  beside  him 
descends  from  the.  height,  and  puts  himself 
al  the  head  of  the  column:  it  is  Guyot,  the 
colonel  of  the  battalion — he  waves  his 
plumed  hat  in  answer  to  the  Emperor. 
That  salute  is  the  last  he  shall  ever  give  on 
earth.  The  drums  roll  out ;  but  the  hoarse 
shout  of  "  Enavant!"  drowns  their  tumult. 
On  they  rush — they  are  over  the  height — 
they  disappear  down  the  descent— and  see  ! 
there  they  are  on  the  bridge  !  "  Vive  la 
Garde!"  shout  ten  thousand  of  their  com- 
rades, who  watch  them  from  the  heights — 
"Vive  la  Garde  I"  is  echoed  from  the  tall 
cliffs  beyond  the  river.  The  column  moves 
on,  and  already  reaches  the  middle  of  the 
bridge,  when  eighteen  guns  throw  their 
fire  into  it  ;  the  blue  smoke  rolls  down  the 
rocky  heights  and  settles  on  the  bridge, 
broken  here  and  there  by  flashes,  like  the 
forked  gleam  of  lightning  ;  the  cloud  passes 
over  ;  the  bridge  is  empty,  save  of  dead 
and  dying  :  the  Grenadiers  of  the  Guard 
are  no  more  ! 

"What  heart  is  his  who  gives  his  fellow- 
men  to  death  like  this  !  "  was  my  exclama- 
tion as  I  witnessed  this  terrible  struggle. 

"The  Cuirassiers  and  Carbineers  of  the 
Guard  to  form  by  threes  in.  eoluran  of 
attack,"  shouted  an  aide-de-camp,  as  he 
rode  up  to  where  I  lay ;  and  no  more 
thought  had  I  of  Ms  motives,  who  now 
opened  the  path  of  glory  to  myself. 

The  squadrons  were  arrayed  under  cover 
of  the  ridge  ;  the  shot  and  shells  from  the 
enemy's  batteries  flew  thickly  over  us — a 
presage  of  the  storm  we  were  about  to 
meet. 

The  order  to  mount  was  given  ;  and,  as 
the  men  sprang  into  their  saddles,  a  group 
of  horsemen  galloped  rapidly  round  the 
angle  of  the  cliff,  and  approached.  One 
glance  showed  me  it  was  the  Emperor  and 
his  staff. 

"Cuirassiers  of  the  Guard,"  said  he,  as 
with  raised  chapeau  he  saluted  his  brave 
followers,  "I  have  ordered  two  battalions  to 
carry  that  bridge.  They  have  failed.  Let 
those  who  never  fail  advance  to  the  storm. 
Montereau  shall  be  inscribed  on  your  hel- 
mets, men,  when  I  see  you  on  yonder  heights. 
Go  forward." 

"Forward!     forward!"     shouted     the 


TOM  BURKE  OF  ''OURS. 


6iy 


mailed  ranks,  half  maddened  by  the  excit- 
ing presence  of  Napoleon. 

The  force  was  formed  in  four  separate 
columns  of  attack,  the  First  Cuirassiers 
leading,  followed  by  the  Carbineers  of  the 
Guard,  then  my  own  regiment ;  and  lastly, 
the  Fourth,  the  corps  of  poor  Pioche. 
What  would  I  have  given  to  know  he  was 
there  ;  but  there  was  not  time  for  such  in- 
quiry now.  The  squadrons  were  ready, 
awaiting  the  moment  to  dash  on  A  loud 
detonation  of  nigh  twenty  guns  shook  the 
earth  ;  and  in  the  smoke  that  rolled  from 
them  the  bridge  was  concealed  from  view. 
A  trumpet  sounded,  and  the  cry  of 
"Charge!"  followed.  The  mass  sprang 
forth.  What  a  cheer  was  theirs  as  they 
swept  past !  The  cannonade  opens  again — 
the  whole  ground  trembles.  The  musketry 
follows  ;  and  the  clatter  of  a  thousand  sa- 
bres mingles  with  the  war-cries  of  the  com- 
batants. It  is  but  brief — the  tumult  is  al- 
ready subsiding  ;  and  now  comes  the  order 
for  the  carbineers  to  move  up.  The  cui- 
rassiers have  been  cut  to  pieces.  A  few, 
mangled  and  bleeding,  have  reeled  back  be- 
hind the  hill,  but  the  regiment  is  gone. 

"Where  are  the  troops  of  Wagram  and 
Eylau  ?"  said  the  Emperor,  in  bitterness, 
as  he  saw  the  one  broken  squadron,  sole 
remnant  of  a  gallant  corps,  reeling,  blood- 
stained and  dying,  to  the  rear.  "Where 
is  that  cavalry  that  carried  the  Russian  bat- 
tery at  Moskowa  ?  You  are  not  what  }rou 
once  were  ! " 

.  This  cruel  taunt,  at  the  very  moment 
when  the  earth  was  steeped  in  the  blood  of 
his  brave  soldiers,  was  heard  in  mournful 
silence.  None  spoke  a  word,  but  with 
clenched  lip  and  clasped  hand  sat  waiting 
the  command  to  charge.  It  came  ;  but  no 
cheer  followed:  The  carbineers  dashed  on, 
prepared  to  die.  What  death  so  dreadful 
as  the  cold  irony  of  Napoleon  ! 

"En  avant !  cuirassiers  of  the  10th," 
called  out  the  Emperor,  as  the  last  squad- 
rons of  the  carbineers  went  by  ;  "support 
your  comrades.  .  Follow  up  there,  men  of 
the  Fourth.     I  must  have  that  bridge."' 

And  now  the  whole  line  moved  up.  As 
Ave  turned  the  cliff  in  full  trot,  the  scene  of 
combat  lay  before  us.  The  terrible  bridge 
now  actually  choked  up  with  dead  and 
wounded — the  very  1  >attlcments  strewn  with 
corpses.  In  an  instant  the  carbineers  wrere 
upon  it ;  and  struggling  through  the  mass 
of  carnage,  they  rode  onward.  Like  men 
goaded  to  despair,  they  pressed  on,  and  ac- 
tually reached  the  archway  beyond,  which, 
defended  by  a  strong  gate,  closed  up  the 
way.  Whole  files  now  fell  at  every  dis- 
charge ;  but  others  took  their  places,  to  fall 


as  rapidly  beneath  the  murderous  mus- 
ketry. 

"  A  petard  to  the  gate  I"  is  now  the  cry — 
"a  petard,  and  the  bridge  is  won  !  " 

Quick  as  lightning  four  Sappers  of  the 
Guard  rush  across  the  road  and  gain  the 
bridge.  They  carry  something  between 
them,  but  soon  are  lost  in  the  dense  masses 
of  the  horse.  The  enemy's  fire  redoubles, 
the  bridge  crashes  beneath  the  cannonade, 
when  a  loud  shout  is  raised — 

"  Let  the  cavalry  fall  back." 

A  cheer  of  triumph  breaks  from  the  town 
as  they  behold  the  retiring  squadrons.  They 
know  not  that  the  petard  is  now  attached 
to  the  gate,  and  that  the  horsemen  are 
merely  withdrawn  for  the  explosion. 

The  bridge  is  cleared,  and  every  eye  is 
turned  to  watch  the  discharge  which  shall 
break  the  strong  door,  and  leave  the  pas- 
sage open.  But  unhappily  the  fuze  has 
missed,  and  the  great  engine  Kes  inert  and 
inactive.  What  is  to  be  done  ?  The  cav- 
alry cannot  venture  to  approach  the  spot, 
which  at  any  moment  may  explode  with 
ruin  on  every  side  ;  and  thus  the  bridge 
is  rendered  impregnable  by  our  own 
fault. 

"Fatality  upon  fatality  !"  is  the  excla- 
mation of  Napoleon,  as  he  heard  the  tid- 
ings. "  This  to  the  man  who  puts  a  match 
to  the  fuze  ! "  said  he,  as  he  detaches  the 
great  cross  of  the  Legion  from  his  breast, 
and  holds  it  aloft. 

With  one  spring  I  jump  from  my  saddle, 
and  dash  at  the  burning  match  a  gunner  is 
holding  near  me  ;  a  rush  is  made  by  several 
others  ;  but  I  am  fleetest  of  foot,  and  before 
they  reach  the  road  I  am  on  the  bridge. 
The  enemy  has  not  seen  me,  and  I  am  half 
way  across  before  a  shot  is  aimed  at  me. 
Even  then  a  surprise  seems  to  arrest  their 
fire,  for  it  is  a  single  ball  whizzes  past.  I 
see  the  train  ;  I  kneel  down  ;  the  fuze  is 
faint  and  I  stoop  to  blow  it,  and  then  my 
action  is  perceived,  and  a  Shattering  volley 
sweeps  the  bridge.  The  high  projecting 
parapet  protects  me,  and  I  am  unhurt.  But 
the  fuze  will  not  take.  Horrible  moment 
of  agonizing  suspense — the  powder  is  clot- 
ted with  blood,  and  will  not  ignite.  I  re- 
member that  my  pistols  are  in  my  belt,  and, 
detaching  one,  I  draw  the  charge,  and  scat- 
ter the  fresh  powder  along  the  line.  My 
shelter  still  saves  me,  though  the  balls  are 
crashing  like  hail  around  me.  It  takes,  it 
takes,  the  powder  spits  and  flashes,  and  a 
loud  cry  from  my  comrades  burst  out, 
"  Come  back  !  come  back  ! " 

Forgetting  everything  in  the  intense  anx- 
iety of  the  moment,  I  spring  to  my  legs  ; 
but  scarce  is  my  head  above  the  parapet 


tm 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


when  a  bullet  strikes  me  in  the  chest.     I 
fall  covered  with  blood. 

"Save  him  !— save  him  !  '*  is  the  cry  of 
a  thousand  voices  ;  awl  a  rush  is  made  upon 
the  bridge.  The  musketry  opens  on  these 
brave  fellows,  and  they  fall  back  wounded 
and  discouraged.  Crouching  beneath  the 
parapet,'  I  try  to  standi  my  wound,  hut  the 
blood  is  gushing  in  torrents,  my  senses  are 
reeling,  the  objects  around  grow  dimmer, 
the  noise  seems  fainter;  but  suddenly  I 
feel  a  hand  upon  my  neck,  and  at  the  same 
instant  a  11  ask  is  pressed  to  my  -lips.  1 
drink,  and  the  wine  rallies  me  ;  the  bleed- 
ing is  stopped,  my  eyes  open  again,  and 
dare  I  trust  their  evidence  ?  Who  is  it  that 
now  shelters  beneath  the  parapet  beside 
me  ?  Minette  the  Vivandiere  !  her  hand- 
some face  flushed,  her  eyes  wild  with  ex- 
citement, and  her  brown  hair  in  great  tan- 
gled masses  on  her  back  and  shoulders. 

"  Minette,  is  it  indeed  thee  ? "  said  I, 
pressing  her  hand  to  my  lips., 

"  I  knew  you  at  the  head  of  your  regi- 
ment, some  clays  ago,  and  I  thought  we 
should  meet  ere  long.  But  lie  still  ;  we 
are  safe  here.  The  fire  slackens  too  ;  they 
have  fallen  back  since  the  gate  was  forced." 

•"  Is  the.  gate  forced,  Minette  ?  " 

"Ay,  the  petard  has  done  its  work,  but 
the  columns  are  not  come  up.  Lie  still 
till  they  pass." 

"Dear,  dear  girl,  what  a  brave  heart  is 
thine!"  said  I,  gazing  on  her  beautiful 
features,  tenfold  handsomer  from  the  ex- 
pression which  her  heroism  had  lent  them. 

"You  would  surely  adventure  as  much 
for  me,"  said  she,  half  timidly,  as  she 
pressed  her  handkerchief  against  the  wound, 
which  still  oozed  blood. 

The  action  entangled  her  fingers  in  a 
ribbon.  She  tried  to  extricate  them,  and  , 
the  locket  fell  out,  opening  by  accident  at  J 
the  same  moment.  With  a  convulsive  | 
energy  she  clasped  the  miniature  in  both 
hands,  and  riveted  her  eyes  upon  it.  The 
look  was  wild  as  that  of  madness  itself,  and 
her  features  grew  stiff  as  she  gazed,  while 
the  pallor  of  death  overspread  them.  It 
was  scarce  the  action  of  a  second  ;  in  an- 
other, she  flung  back  the  picture  from  her 
and  sprang  to  her  feet.  One  glance  she 
gave  me,  fleeting  as  the  lightning  flash, 
but  how  full  of  storied  sorrow  !  The  mo- 
ment after  she  was  in  the  middle  of  the 
bridge.  She  waved  her  cap  wildly  above 
her  head,  and  beckoned  to  the  column  to 
come  on.  A  cheer  answered  her.  The 
mass  rushed  forward,  the  fire  again  pealed 
forth,  a  shriek  pierced  the  din  of  all  the 
battle,  and  the  leading  files  halt.  Four 
grenadiers  fall  back  to  the  rear,  carrying  a 


body  between  them.  It  is  the  corpse  of 
Minette  the  Vivandiere,  who  has  received 
her  death-wound. 

The  same  evening  saw  me  the  occupant 
of  a  bed  in  the  ambulance  of  bhe  Guard. 
Dreadful  as  the  suffering  of  my  wound  was, 
1  carried  a  deeper  one  within  my  heart. 

"The  Emperor  has  given  you  his  own 
cross  of  the  Legion,  sir,"  said  the  surgeon, 
endeavoring  to  rally  me  from  a  dejection 
whose  source  he  knew  not. 

"He  has  made  him  a  general  of  brigade, 
too,"  said  a  voice  behind  him. 

It  was  General  Letort  who  spoke  ;  he  had 
that  moment  come  from  the  Emperor  with 
the  tidings.  I  buried  my  head  beneath 
my  hands,  and  felt  as  though  my  heart  was' 
bursting. 

"That  was  a  gallant  girl,  that  vivan- 
diere," said  the  rough  old  General.  "She 
must  have  had  a  soldiers  heart  within  that 
corsage.  Parlleu !  I'd  rather  not  have 
another  such  in  my  brigade,  though,  after 
what  happened  this  evening/' 

"What  is  it  you  speak  of?"  said  I, 
faintly. 

"  They  gave  her  a  military  funeral  this 
evening,  the  Fourth  Cuirassiers.  The 
Emperor  gave  his  permission,  and  sent 
General  Degeon  of  the  staff  to  be  present. 
And  when  they  placed  her  in  the  grave, 
one  of  the  soldiers,  a  corporal  I  believe, 
kneeled  down  to  kiss  her,  before  they  cov- 
ered in  the  earth,  and  when  he  had  done  so 
he  lay  slowly  down  on  his  face  on  the  grass. 
'  He  has  fainted,'  said  one  of  his  comrades  ; 
and  they  turned  him  on  his  back.  Mor- 
blen  !  it' was  worse  than  that — he  was  stone 
dead  !  One  of  the  very  finest  fellows  of 
the  regiment." 

"Yes-^-yes,  I  know  him,"  muttered  I, 
endeavoring  to  smother  my  emotion. 

The  General  looked  at  me,  as  if  my  mind 
was  wandering,  and  briefly  added  : 

"And  so  they  laid  them  in  the  same 
grave,  and  the  same  fusillade  gave  the  last 
honors  to  both." 

"Your  story  has  affected  my  patient 
over  much,  general,"  said  the  doctor. 
"We  must  leave  him  to  himself  for  some 
time." 


CHAPTER    LXXXV. 

FONTAINEBLEAU. 

An  order  from  Berthier,  written  at  the 
command  of  the  Emperor,  admitted  me 
into  the  ancient  palace  of  Fontainehleau, 
where  I  lay  for  upward  of  two  months  un- 
der my  wound.     Twice  had  fever  nearly 


TOM  BUBKE  OF  "OURS. 


G21 


brought  me  to  the  grave ;  but  youth  aud 
unimpaired  health  succored  me,  and  I 
rallied  through  all.  A  surgeon  of  the  staff 
accompanied  me,  and  by  his  kind  compan- 
ionship, not  less  than  by  his  skill,  did  I  re- 
cover from  an  illness  where  sorrow  had 
made  an  iron  inroad  not  less  deep  than  dis- 
ease. 

In  my  little  chamber,  which  looked  out 
upon  the  court-yard  of  the  palace,  I  passed 
my  days,  thinking  over  the  past  and  all  its 
vicissitudes.  Each  day  we  learned  some 
intelligence  either  from  the  seat  of  war  or 
from  Paris — defeat  in  one,  treason  and  dis- 
affection in  the  other,  were  rapidly  hasten- 
ing the  downfall  of  the  mightiest  empire 
the  genius  of  man  had  ever  constructed. 
Champ-Aubert,  Montmirail,  and  Mon- 
tereau,  great  victories  as  they  were,  retarded 
not  the  current  of  events.  "The  week  of 
glory  "  brought  not  hope  to  a  cause  predes- 
tined to  ruin. 

It  was  the  latter  end  of  March.  For 
some  days  previous  the  surgeon  had  left 
me  to  visit  an  outpost  ambulance  near 
Melun,  and  I  was  alone.  My  strength, 
however,  enabled  me  to  sit  up  at  my  win- 
dow ;  and  even  in  this  slight  pleasure  my 
wearied  senses  found  enjoyment,  after  the 
tedious  hours  of  a  sick-bed.  The  evening 
was  calm,  and,  for  the  season,  mild  and 
summer-like.  The  shrubs  were  putting 
forth  their  first  leaves,  and  around  the 
marble  fountains  the  spring  flowers  were 
already  showing  signs  of  blossom.  The 
setting  sun  made  the  tall  shadows  of  the 
ancient  beech-trees  stretch  across  the  wide 
court,  where  all  was  still  as  at  midnight. 
No  inhabitant  of  the  palace  was  about — 
not  a  servant  moved,  not  a  footstep  Avas 
heard.  It  was  a  moment  of  such  perfect 
stillness  as  leads  the  mind  to  reverie  ;  and 
my  thoughts  wandered  away  to  that  distant 
time  when  gay  cavaliers  and  stately  dames 
trod  those  spacious  terraces  ;  when  tales  of 
chivalry  and  love  mingled  with  the  plash- 
ing sounds  of  those  bright  fountains,  and 
the  fair  moon  looked  down  on  more  lovely 
forms  tli an  even  those  graceful  marbles 
around. 

I  fancied  the  time  when  the  horn  of 
the  chasseur  was  heard  echoing  through 
those  vast  courts,  its  last  notes  lost  in  the 
merry  voices  of  the  cortege  round  the 
monarch.  And  then  I  called  up  the  bril- 
liant group,  with  caracoling  steeds  and  gay 
housings,  proudly  advancing  up  that  great 
.avenue  to  the  royal  entrance,  and  pictured 
the  ancient  ceremonial  that  awaited  his 
coming — the  descendant  of  a  long  line  of 
kings.  The  frank  and  kingly  Francis,  the 
valiant  Henry  IV.,  the  "  Grand  Monarch  " 


;  himself — all  passed  in  review  before  my 
mind  as  once  they  lived,  and  moved,  and 
spoke  in  that  stately  pile. 

The  sun  had  set,  the  mingled  shadows 
threw  their  gloom  over  the  wide  court,  and 
:  one  wing  of  the  palace  was  in  deep  shade, 
when  suddenly  I  heard  the  roll  of  wheels 
and  the  tramp  of  horses  on  the  distant  r  tad 
:  I  listened  attentively.  They  were  coming 
'near.  I  could  hear  the  tread  of  many  to- 
gether; and  my  practiced  ear  could  detecl 
;  the  clank  of  dragoons,  as  their  sabres  and 
sabretasches  jingled  against  the  horses' 
flanks.  "Some  hurried  news  from  the 
Emperor,"  thought  I ;  "  perhaps  some  mar- 
shal wounded,  and  about  to  be.  conveyed  to 
the  palace."  The  same  instant  the  guard  at 
the  distant  entrance  beat  to  arms,  and  an 
equipage  drawn  by  six  horses  clashed  in  at 
full  gallop.  A  second  followed  as  fast,  with 
a  peloton  of  dragoons  at  the  side.  My 
anxiety  increased.  "  What  if  it  were  the 
Emperor  himself  !  "  thought  I ;  but  as  the 
idea  flashed  across  me,  it  yielded  at  once,  on 
seeing  that  the  carriages  did  not  draw  up  at 
the  grand  stair,  but  passed  on  to  a  low  and 
private  door  at  the  distant  wing  of  the 
palace. 

The  bustle  of  the  cortege  arriving  was  but 
a  moment's  work.  The  carriages  moved 
rapidly  away,  the  dragoons  disappeared, 
and  all  was  as  still  as  before,  leaving  me  to 
ponder  over  the  whole,  and  actually  ask 
myself  could  it  have  been  reality  ?  I 
opened  my  door  to  listen,  but  not  a  sound 
awoke  the  echo  of  the  long  corridors.  One 
could  have  fancied  that  no  living  thing  was 
beneath  that  wide  roof,  so  silent  was  all 
around. 

A  strange  feeling  of  anxiety — the  dread 
of  something  undefined,  I  knew  not  what, 
or  whence  coming — was  over  me,  and  my 
nerves,  long  irritable  from  illness,  became 
now  jarringly  sensitive,  and  banished  all 
thought  of  sleep.  Wild  fancies  and  inco- 
herent ideas  crossed  my  mind,  and  made 
me  restless  and  uneasy.  I  felt,  too,  as  if 
the  night  were  unusually  close  and  sultry, 
and  I  opened  my  window  to  admit  the  air. 
Scarcely  had  I  drawn  the  curtain  aside. 
when  my  eye  rested  on  a  long  line  of  light, 
that,  issuing  from  a  window  on  the  ground- 
floor  of  the  palace,  threw  its  bright  gleam 
far  across  the  court-yard. 

It  was  in  the  same  wing  where  the  car- 
riages drew  up  :  it  must  be  so — some  officer 
of  rank,  wounded  in  a  late  battle,  was 
brought  there.  "Poor  fellow!"  thought 
I,  "what  suffering  may  he  be  enduring 
amid  all  the  peacofulncss  and  calm  of  this 
tranquil  spot  !  Who  can  it  be  ?  "  was  the 
ever-recurring  question   to   my  mind  ;  for  . 


C22 


CHARLES    LEVER'S  WORKS. 


my  impression   hud   already  strengthened 
itself  to  a  conviction. 

The  hours  went  on,  the  light  shone 
steadily  as  at  first,  and  the  stillness  was 
unbroken.  Wearied  with  thinking,  and 
half  forgetful  of  my  weakness,  I  tottered 
along  the  corridor,  descended  the  grand 
stair,  and  passed  out  into  the  court.  How 
refreshing  did  the  night  air  feel —how 
sweet  the  fair  odors  of  the  spring,  as,- 
wafted  by  the  motion  of  t\\ejet  d"eau,  they 
were  diffused  around.  The  first  steps  of 
recovery  from  severe  sickness  have  a  strange 
thrill  of  youthfulness  about  them.  Our 
senses  seem  once  more  to  revel  in  the  simple 
enjoyments  of  early  days,  and  to  feel  that 
their  greatest  delight  lies  in  the  associations 
which  gave  pleasure  to  childhood.  Weaned 
from  the  world's  contentions,  we  seem  to 
have  been  lifted,  for  the  time,  above  the 
meaner  cares  and  ambitions  of  life,  and  love 
to  linger  a  little  longer  in  that  ideal  state 
of  happiness  calm  thoughts  bestow  ;  and 
thus  the  interval  that  brings  back  health 
to  the  body  restores  freshness  to  the  heart  ; 
and,  purified  in  thought,  we  come  forth, 
hoping  for  better  things,  and  striving  for 
them  with  all  the  generous  ardor  of  early 
years. 

How  happy  was  I  as  I  wandered  in  that 
garden — how  full  of  gratitude  to  feel  the 
current  of  health  once  more  come  back  in 
all  my  veins — the  sense  of  enjoyment  which 
flows  from  every  object  of  the  fair  world 
restored  to  me,  after  so  many  dangers  and 
escapes.  As  I  moved  slowly  through  the 
terraced  court,  my  eye  was  constantly  at- 
tracted to  the  small  and  star-like  light 
which  glimmered  through  the  darkness  ; 
and  I  turned  to  it  at  last,  impelled  by  a 
feeling  of  undefinable  sympathy.  Follow- 
ing a  narrow  path,  I  drew  near  to  a  little 
garden,  which  once .  contained  some  rare 
flowers.  They  had  been  favorites  of  poor 
Josephine  iri  times  past ;  but  the  hour  was 
over  in  which  that  gave  them  a  claim  to 
care  and  attention  ;  and  now  they  were 
wild  grown  and  tangled,  and  almost  con- 
cealed the  narrow  walk  which  led  to  the 
doorway.  I  reached  this  at  length  ;  and  as 
I  stoodj  the  faint  moonlight,  slanting  be- 
neath a  cloud,  fell  upon  a  bright  and 
glistening  object  almost  at  my  feet.  I  step- 
ped back,  and  looked  fixedly  at  it.  It  was 
the  figure  of  a  man  sleeping  across  the 
entrance  of  the  porch.  He  was  dressed  in 
Mameluke  fashion  ;  but  his  gay  trappings 
and  rich  costume  were  travel-stained  and 
splashed.  His  unsheathed  scimitar  lay 
grasped  in  one  hand,  and  a  Turkish  ]flstol 
seemed  to  have  fallen  from  the  other. 

Even  by  the  imperfect  light  I  recognized 


Rustan,  the  favorite  Mameluke  of  the  Em- 
peror,  who  always  slept  at  the  door  of  his 
fent  and  his  chamber  bis  chosen  body- 
guard. .Napoleon  must  then  be  here.  His 
equipage  it  was  which  arrived  so  hurriedly 
— his  the  light  which  burned  through  the 
stillness  of  the  night.  As  these  thoughts 
followed  fast  on  each  other,  I  almost  trem- 
bled to  think  how  nearly]  had  ventured 
on  his  presence,  where  none  dared  to  ap- 
proach unbidden.  To  retire  (prickly  and 
noiselessly  was  now  my  care  :  bul  my  first 
step  entangled  my  foot.  I  stumbled.  The 
noise  awoke  the  sleeping  Turk  ;  and  with 
a  loud  cry  for  the  guard  he  sprang  to  his 
feet. 

"La  garde!"  called  he  a  second  time, 
forgetting  in  his  surprise  that  none  was 
there  ;  but  then  with  a  spring  he  seized  me 
by  the  arm,  and,  as  his  shining  weapon 
gleamed  above  my  head,  demanded  who  I 
was,  and  for  what  purpose  there. 

The  first  words  of  my  reply  were  scarcely 
uttered  when  a  small  door  was  opened 
within  the  vestibule,  and  the  Emperor  ap- 
peared. Late  as  was  the  hour,  he  was 
dressed,  and  even  wore  his  sword  at  his 
side. 

"  What  means  this— who  are  you,  sir  ?  " 
was  the  quick,  sharp  question  he  addressed 
to  me. 

A  few  words  —  the  fewest  in  which  I 
could  convey  it — told  my  story,  and  ex- 
pressed my  sorrow  that,  in  the  sick  man's 
fancy  of  a  moonlight  walk,  I  should  have 
disturbed  his  majesty. 

"I  thought,  sire,''  added  I,  "that  your 
majesty  was  many  a  league  distant  with 
the  army — " 

"There  is  no  army,  sir,"  interrupted  he, 
with  a  rapid  gesture  of  his  hand;  "to- 
morrow there  will  be  no  emperor.  Go,  sir, 
go,  while  it  is  yet  the  time.  Offer  your 
sword  and  your  services  where  so  many 
others,  more  exalted  than  yourself,  have 
done.  This  is  the  clay  of  desertion — see 
that  you  take  advantage  of  it." 

"  Had  my  name  and  rank  been  less  hum- 
ble, they  would  have  assured  your  majesty 
how  little  I  merited  this  reproach." 

"I  am  sorry  to  have  offended  you,"  re- 
plied he,  in  a  voice  of  inexpressible  soft- 
ness. .  "  You  led  the  assault  at  Montereau  ? 
I  remember  you  now.  I  should  have  given 
you  your,  brigade,  had  I — "  He  stopped  ■ 
here  suddenly  while  an  expression  of  suf- 
fering passed  across  his  pale  features ;  he 
rallied  from  it,  however,  in  an  instant,  and 
'resumed  :  "I  should  have  known  you  earli- 
er— it  is  too  late  !     Adieu  !  " 

He  inclined  his  head  slightly  as  he  spoke, 
and  extended  bis  hand.     I  pressed  it  fer- 


TOM  BURKE    OF  "OURS." 


623 


vently  to  my  lips,  and  would  have  spoken, 
but  I  could  not.  The  moment  after  he 
was  gone. 

It  is  too  late  ! — too  late  ! — the  same  terri- 
ble words  which  were  uttered  beneath  the 
blackened  walls  of  Moscow,  repeated  at 
every  new  disaster  of  that  dreadful  retreat, 
now  spoken  by  him  whose  fortune  they 
predicted.  Too  late  ! — the  exclamation  of 
the  proud  marshal,  harassed  by  unsuccess- 
ful efforts  to  avert  the  destiny  he  saw  inev- 
itable. Too  late  ! — the  cry  of  the  wearied 
soldier.  Too  late  ! — the  fatal  expression  of 
the  Czar  when  the  brave  and  faithful  Mac- 
don  aid  urged  the  succession  of  the  King 
of  Rome  and  the  regency  of  the  Empress. 

Wearied  with  a  wakeful  night,  I  fell  into 
a  slumber  toward  morning,  when  I  started 
suddenly  at  the  roll  of  drums  in  the  court 
beneath.  In  an  instant  I  was  at  my  win- 
dow. What  was  my  astonishment  to  per- 
ceive that  the  court-yard  was  filled  with 
troops.  The  Grenadiers  of  the  Guard  were 
ranged  in  order  of  battle,  with  several 
squadrons  of  the  chasseurs,  and  the  horse- 
artillery  ;  while  a  staff  of  general  officers 
stood  in  the  midst,  among  whom  I  recog- 
nized Belliard,  Montesquieu,  and  Turenne 
— great  names,  and  worthy  to  be  recorded 
for  an  act  of  faithful  devotion.  The  Due 
de  Bassano  was  there  too,  in  deep  mourn- 
ing ;  his  pale  and  care-worn  face  attesting 
the  grief  within  his  heart.  The  roll  of  the 
drums  continued — the  deep,  unbroken  mur- 
mur of  the  salute  went  on  from  one  end  of 
the  line  to  the  other.  It  ceased,  and  ere  1 
could  question  the  reason,  the  various  staff- 
officers  became  uncovered,  and  stood'  in 
attitudes  of  respectful  attention,  and  the 
Emperor  himself  slowly,  step  by  step,  de- 
scended the  wide  stair  of  the  "Cheval 
Blanc,"  as  the  grand  terrace  was  styled, 
and  advanced  toward  the  troops.  At  the 
same  instant  the  whole  line  presented  arms, 
and  the  drums  beat  the  salute.  They 
ceased,  and  Napoleon  raised  his  hand  to 
command  silence,  and  throughout  that 
crowded  mass  not  a  whisper  was  heard. 

I  could  perceive  that  he  was  speaking, 
but  the  words  did  not  reach  me.  Eloquent 
and  burning  words  they  were,  and  to  be  re- 
corded in  history  to  the  remotest  ages.  I 
now  saw  that  he  had  finished,  as  General 
Petit  sprang  forward  with  the  eagle  of  the 
First  Regiment  of  the  Guards,  and  present- 
ed it  to  him.  The  Emperor  pressed  it  fer- 
vently to  his  lips,  and  then  threw  his  arms 
around  Petit's  neck,  while  suddenly  disen- 
gaging himself,  he  took  the  tattered  flag 
that  waved  above  him  and  kissed  it  twice. 
\jnable  to  bear  up  any  longer,  the  worn, 
hard-featured  veterans   sobbed  aloud   like 


children,  and  turned  away  their  faces  to 
conceal  their  emotion.  No  cry  of  Vive 
V  Empereur  resounded  now  through  tliose 
ranks  where  each  had  willingly  shed  his 
heart's  blood  for  him.  Sorrow  had  usurped 
the  place  of  enthusiasm,  and  they  stood 
overwhelmed  by  grief. 

A  tall  and  soldierlike  figure,  with  head 
uncovered,  approached  the  Emperor,  and 
said  a  few  words.  Napoleon  waved  his 
hand  toward  the  troops,  and  from  the  ranks 
many  rushed  toward  him,  and  fell  on  their 
knees  before  him.  He  passed  his  hand 
across  his  face  and  turned  away.  My  eyes 
grew  dim,  a  misty  vapor  shut  out  every  ob- 
ject, and  I  felt  as  though  the  very  lids 
were  bursting.  The  great  tramp  of  horses 
startled  me,  and  then  came  the  roll  of 
wheels.  I  looked  up  ;  an  equipage  was 
passing  from  the  gate,  a  peloton  of  dra- 
goons escorted  it ;  a  second  followed  at  full 
speed  ;  the  colonels  formed  their  men,  the 
word* to  march  was  given,  the  drums  beat 
out,  the  grenadiers  moved  on,  the  chas- 
seurs succeeded,  and  last  the  artillery  rolled 
heavily  up  ;  the  court  was  deserted,  not  a 
man  remained  —  all,  all  were  gone.  The 
Empire  was  ended,  and  the  Emperor,  the 
mighty  genius  who  created  it,  on  his  way 
to  exile. 


CHAPTER    LXXXVI. 

THE    CONCLUSION. 

France  never  appeared  to  less  advantage 
in  the  eyes  of  Europe  than  at  the  period  I 
speak  of.  Scarcely  had  the  proud  star  of 
Napoleon  set,  when  the  whole  current  of 
popular  favor  flowed  along  with  those  whom, 
but  a  few  days  before,  they  accounted  their 
greatest  enemies.  The  Russians  and  the 
Prussians,  whom  they  lampooned  and  de- 
rided, they  now  flattered  and  fawned  on. 
They,  deemed  no  adulation  servile  enough 
to  lay  at  the  feet  of  their  conquerors — not 
esteeming  the  exaltation  of  their  victors 
sufficient,  unless  purchased  at  the  sacrifice 
of  their  own  honor  as  a  nation. 

The  struggle  was  no  longer  who  should 
be  first  in  glory,  but  who  foremost  in  deser- 
tion of  him  and  his  fortunes  whose  word 
had  made  them.  The  marshals  he  had 
created,  the  generals  he  had  decorated,  the 
ministers  and  princes  he  had  endowed  with 
wealth  and  territory,  now  turned  from  him 
in  his  hour  of  misfortune,  to  court  the 
favor  of  one,  against  whom  every  act  of 
their  former  lives  was  directed. 

These  men,  whose  very  titles  recalled  the 
fields  of  glory  to  which  he  led  them,  now 


624 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


hastened  to  the  Tuileries  bo  proffer  an  alle- 
giance to  a  monarch  they  neither  loved  nor 
respected.  Sad  and  humiliating  spectacle  ! 
The  long  pent-up  hatred  of  the  royalists 
found  a  natural  vent  in  I  his  moment  of 
triumphant  success.  Chateaubriand,  Con- 
stant, and  Madame  de  Stae'l  led  I  he  way- to 
those  declarations  of  the  press,  which  de- 
nounced Napoleon  as  the  greatest  of  earthly 
tyrants,  and  inveighed  evenagainsl  hisgreat- 
ness  and  his  genius,  ;is  though  malevolence 
could  produce  oblivion. 

All  Paris  was  in  a  fervent  of  excitement  : 
not  the  troubled  agitation  of  a  people  whose 
capital  owned  the  presence  of  a  conquering 
army,  but  the  tumultuous  joy  of  a  nation 
intoxicated  with  pleasure.  Fetes  and  balls, 
gay  processions,  and  public  demonstrations 
of  rejoicing,  met  one  everywhere  ;  and  in- 
genuity was  taxed  to  invent  flatteries  for 
the  very  nations  whom,  but  a  week  past, 
they  scoffed  at  as  barbarians  and  Scythians. 

Sickened  and  disgusted  with  the  fickle- 
ness of  mankind,  I  knew  not  where  to  turn. 
My  wound  had  brought  on  a  low,  lingering 
fever,  accompanied  by  -extreme  debility, 
increased,  in  all  likelihood,  by  the  harassing 
reflections  every  object  around  suggested. 
I  could  not  venture  abroad  without  meeting 
some  evidence  of  that  exuberant  triumph 
by  which  treachery  hopes  to  cover  its  own 
baseness  ;  besides,  the  reputation  of  being 
a  Napoleonist  was  now  a  mark  for  insult 
and  indignity,  from  those  who  never  dared 
to  avow  an  opinion  until  the  tide  of  fortune 
had  turned  in  their  favor.  The  white 
cockade  had  replaced  the  tricolor,  every 
emblem  of  the  Empire  was'  abolished,  and 
that  uniform,  to  wear  which  was  once  a 
mark  of  honorable  distinction,  Avas  now 
become  a  signal  for  insult. 
•  I  was  returning,  one  evening  from  a  soli- 
tary ramble  in  the  neighborhood  of  Paris — 
for,  by  some  strange  fatality,  I  could  not 
tear  myself  away  from  the  scenes  to  which 
the  most  eventful  portions  of  my  life  were 
attached — and  at  length  reached  the  Boule- 
vard Montmartre,  just  as  the  leading  squad- 
rons of  a  cavalry  regiment  were  advancing 
up  the  wide  thoroughfare.  I  had  hitherto 
avoided  every  occasion  of  witnessing  any 
military  display  which  should  recall  the 
past ;  but  now  the  rapid  gather-ing  of  the 
crowd  to  see  the  soldiers  pass  prevented  my 
escape,  and  I  was  obliged  to  wait  patiently 
until  the  cortege  should  inove  forward. 

They  came  on  in  dense  column,  the  brave 
Chasseurs  of  the  Guard — the  bronzed  war- 
riors of  Jena  and  Wagram— but  to  my  eyes 
they  seemed  sterner  and  sadder  than  their 
wont,  and  heeded  not  the  loud  vivas  of  the 
mob    around    them.      Where    were    their 


eagles  ?  Alas  !  the  white  banner  that 
floated  over  their  heads  was  a  poor  substi- 
tute for  the  proud  ensign  they  had  so  often 
followed  to  victory. 

And  here  were  the  dragoons — old  Keller- 
mann's  brave  troopers :  their  proud  glances 
were  changed  to  a  mournful  gaze  upon 
that  crowd  whose  cheers  they  once  felt 
proud  of;  and  there,  the  artillery,  that 
glorious  corps  which  he  loved  so  well,  did 
not  the  roll  of  their  guns  sound  sorrowfully 
on  the  ear  !  They  passed,  and  then  came  on 
a  strange  cortege  of  mounted  cavaliers,  old 
and  withered  men,  in  uniforms  of  quaint 
antique  fashion  ;' their  chapeaux  decorated 
with  great  cockades  of  white  ribbon,  and 
their  sword-knots  garnished  with  similar 
ornaments.  The  order  of  St.  Louis  glit- 
tered on  each  breast,  and  in  their  bearing 
you  might  read  the  air  of  men  who  were 
enjoying  a  long-wisbed-for  and  long-ex- 
pected triumph.  These  were  the  old  seig- 
neurs of  the  monarchy,  and  truly  they  were 
not  wanting  in  that  look  of  nobility  their 
ancient  blood  bestowed.  Their  features 
were  proud  ;  their  glance  elated.  Their 
very  port  and  bearing  spoke  that  conscious- 
ness of  superiority,  to  crush  which  had 
cost  all  the  horrors  and  bloodshed  of  a  ter- 
rible revolution.  How  strange  !  it  seemed 
as  if  many  of  their  faces  were  familiar  to 
me.  I  knew  them  well.  But  where  and 
how,  my  memory  could  not  trace.  Yes, 
now  I  could  recall  it :  they  were  the  fre- 
quenters of  the  old  "Pension  of  the  Rue 
de  Mi-Careme,"  the  same  men  I  had  seen 
in  their  day  of  adversity,  bearing  up  with 
noble  pride  against  the  ills  of  fortune. 
There  they  were,  reveling  in  the  long- 
sought-after  restoration  of  their  former 
state.  Were  they  not  more  worthy  of  ad- 
miration in  their  hour  of  patient  and  faith- 
ful watching,  than  in  this  the  period  of 
their  triumph  ? 

The  pressure  of  the  crowd  obliged  the 
cavalcade  to  halt ;  and  now  the  air  re- 
sounded with  the  cries  of  "  Vive  le  Roil " 
the  long-forgotten  cheer  of  loyalty.  Thou- 
sands re-echoed  the  shout,  and  the  horse- 
men waved  their  hats  in  exultation.  "  Vive 
le  Roi '!  "  cried  the  mob,  as  though  the 
Voices  had  not  called  "Vive  VEmpereur  !  " 
but  yesterday. 

"  Down  with  the  Napoleonist — down  with 
him  ! "  screamed  a  savage-looking  fellow, 
who,  jammed  up  in  the  crowd,  pointed  to- 
ward me,  as  I  stood  a  mere  spectator  of  the 
scene.     • 

"Cry  Vive  le  RoiJ  at  once,"  whispered  a 
voice  near  me,  "  or  the  consequences  may 
be  serious.  The  mob  is  ungovernable  at  a 
moment  like  this." 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


625 


A  dozen  voices  shouted  out  at  the  same 
time,  "Down  with  him  !  Down  with  him  ! " 

"  Off  with  your  hat,  sir,"  said  a  rude- 
looking  fellow  beside  me,  as  he  raised  his 
hand  to  remove  it. 

"At  your  peril  !"  said  I,  as  I  clenched 
my  hand,  and  prepared  to  strike  him  down 
the  moment  he  should  touch  me.  The 
words  were  not  well  uttered,  when  the 
crowd  closed  on  me,  and  a  hundred  arms 
were  stretched  out  to  attack  me.  In  vain 
all  my  efforts  to  resist.  My  hat  was  torn 
from  my  head,  and,  assailed  on  every  side, 
I  was  dragged  into  the  middle  of  the  street, 
amid  wild  cries  hi  vengeance  and  taunting 
insults.  It  was  then,  as  I  lay  overcome  by 
numbers,  that  a  loud  cry  to  fall  back  issued 
from  the  cavalcade,  and  a  horseman,  sword 
in  hand,  dashed  upon  the  mob,  slashing-  on 
every  side  as  he  went,  mounted  on  a  high- 
mettled  horse.  He  cleared  the  dense  mass 
with  the  speed  of  lightning,  and  drove  back 
my  assailants. 

"Catch  my  horse's  mane,"  said  he  hur- 
riedly. "  Hold  fast  for  a  few  seconds,  and 
you  are  safe." 

Following  the  advice,  I  held  firmly  by 
the  long  mane  of  his  charger,  while  clear- 
ing away  the  mob  on  either  side,  he  pro- 
tected me  by  his  drawn  sabre  above  my 
head. 

"  Safe  this  time  !  "  said  he,  as  we  arrived 
within  the  ranks ;  and  then  turning  round, 
so  as  to  face  me,  added,  "Safe  !  and  my 
debt  acquitted.  You  saved  my  life  once, 
and  though  the  peril  seemed  less  imminent 
now,  trust  me,  yours  had  not  escaped  the 
fury  of  that  multitude  without  me."  • 

"  "What !  Henri  de  Beauvais — do  we  meet 
again  ?  " 

"Yes  ;  but  with  altered  fortune,  Burke. 
Our  king,  as  the  words  of  our  Garde 
Ecossaise  song  says,  our  king  has  'got  his 
own  again.'  The  day  of  loyalty  has  again 
dawned  on  France,  and  a  grateful  people 
may  carry  their  enthusiasm  for  the  restora- 
tion, even  as  far  as  vengeance  on  their  op- 
ponents, and  yet  not  merit  much  reproach. 
But  no  more  of  this.  We  can  be  friends 
now  ;  or  if  not,  it  must  be  your  fault." 

"  I  am  not  too  proud,  De  Beauvais,  either 
to  accept  or  acknowledge  a  favor  at  your 
hands." 

"Then  we  are  friends,"  said  he,  joyfully ; 
"and  in  the  name  of  friendship,  let  me  beg 
of  you  to  place  this  cordon  in  your  hat." 
And  so  saying,  he  detached  the  cockade  of 
white  ribbon  he  wore  from  his  own,  and 
held  it  toward  me.  "Well,  then,  at  least 
remove  the  tricolor.  It  can  but  expose  you 
to  insult.  Remember,  Burke,  its  day  is 
over." 

vol.  i. — 40 


"I  am  not  likely  to  forget  it,"  replied  I 
sadly. 

"Monsieur  le  Colonel,  his  royal  highness 
wishes  to  speak  with  you,"  said  an  aide-de- 
camp, riding  up  beside  De  Beauvais's  horse. 

"Take  care  of  this  gentleman  forme," 
said  De  Beauvais,  pointing  to  me ;  and 
then,  wheeling  round  his  horse,  he  galloped 
at  full  speed  to  the  rear. 

"I  will  spare  you  all  trouble  on  my  ac- 
count, sir,"  said  I.  "My  way  lies  yonder, 
and  at  present  I  see  no  obstacle  to  my  pur- 
suing it." 

"Let  me  at  least  send  an  escort  with 
you. " 

I  thanked  him,  and  declined  the  offer, 
and  leaving  the  ranks  of  the  procession, 
mingled  with  the  crowd,  and  in  a  few  min- 
utes after  reached  my  hotel  without  further 
molestation. 

The  hour  was  come,  I  saw  plainly,  in 
which  I  must  leave  France.  Not  only  was 
every  tie.  which  bound  me  to  that  land 
severed,  but  to  remain  was  only  to  oppose 
myself  singly  to  the  downward  current  of 
popular  opinion  which  now  threatened  to 
overturn  every  landmark  and  vestige  of  the 
Empire.  Up  to  this  moment,  I  never  con- 
fessed to  my  heart  with  what  secret  hope  I 
had  prolonged  each  day  of  my  stay — how  I 
cherished  within  me  the  expectation  that  I 
should  once  again, though  but  for  an  instant, 
see  her  who  lived  in  all  my  thoughts,  and, 
unknown  to  myself,  formed  the  mainspring 
of  all  my  actions. 

This  hope  only  hecame  confessed  when 
about  to  leave  me  forever. 

As  I  busied  myself  in  the  preparations 
for  departure,  a  note  arrived  from  De 
Beauvais,  stating  that  he  desired  particu- 
larly to  see  and  confer  with  me  that  same 
evening,  and  requesting  me  on  no  account 
to  be  from  home,  as  his  business  was  most 
pressing.  I  felt  little  curiosity  to  know 
to  what  he  might  allude,  and  saw  him 
enter  my  room  some  hours  later  without  a 
single  particle  of  anxiety  as  to  his  commu- 
nication. 

"I  am  come,  Burke,"  said  he,  after  a 
few  common-places  had  been  exchanged 
between  us — "  I  am  come,  Burke,  on  a 
mission  which  I  hope  you  will  believe  the 
sincerest  regard  for  you  has  prompted  me 
to  undertake,  and  which,  whatever  objec- 
tions it  may  meet  with  from  you,  none  can 
arise,  I  am  certain,  on  the  score  of  his  fidel- 
ity who  now  makes  this  proposition  to  you. 
To  be  brief.  The  Count  d'Artois  has  sent 
me  to  offer  you  your  grade  and  rank  in  the 
army  of  his  Majesty  Louis  XVIII.  Your 
last  gazette  was  as  colonel ;  but  there  is  a 
rumor  you  should  have  received  your  ap- 


G36 


CHARLES  LEVER'S  WORKS. 


pointmenfc  as  general  of  brigade.  There 
will  be  little  difficulty  in  arranging  your 
brevet  on  that  understanding ;  for  your 
services,  brief  as  they  were,  have  not  been 
unnoticed.  Marshal  Ney  himself  bears  tes- 
timony to  your  conduct  at  Monte reau  ;  and 
your  name  twice  occurs  on  the  list  of  the 
minister  of  war  for  promotion.  Strange 
claims  these,  you  will  say,  to  recompense 
from  the  rightful  sovereign  of  France,  gain- 
ed as  they  were  in  the  service  of  the  usurp- 
er ;  but  it  is  the  prerogative  of  legitimacy 
to  be  great  and  nobleminded,  and  to  recog- 
nize true  desert  wherever  it  occurs.  .  Come, 
what  say  you  ?  Does  this  proposal  meet 
your  wishes  ?  " 

"  If  to  surpass  my  expectations,  and  flat- 
ter my  pride,  were  to  convince  my  reason, 
and  change  my  estimation  of  what  is  loyal 
and  true,  I  should  say,  '  Yes,  De  Beauvais, 
the  proposition  does  meet  my  wishes.'  But 
not  so.  I  wore  these  epaulettes  first  in  my 
admiration  of  him  whose  fortunes  I  have 
followed  to  the  last.  My  "pride — my  glory, 
were  to  be  his  soldier.  That  can  be  no 
longer,  and  the  sword  I  drew  in  his  cause 
shall  never  be  unsheathed  in  another's." 

"Are  you  ignorant  that  such  arguments 
apply  with  equal  force  to  all  those  great 
men  who  have,  within  these  few  weeks 
past,  sworn  allegiance  to  his  majesty  ? 
What  say  you  to  the  list  of  marshals,  not 
one  of  whom  has  refused  the  graciously- 
offered  favor  of  his  majesty  ?  Are  Ney, 
Soult,  Augereau,  Macdonald,  andMarmont, 
nothing  as  examples  ?  " 

"  I  will  not  say  so,  De  Beauvais — but  this 
I  will  say,  they  had  had  both  more  respect 
and  esteem  from  me  had  they  done  other- 
wise. If  they  were  true  to  the  Emperor, 
they  can  .scarce  be  loyal  to  the  king." 

"  Can  ycu  not  distinguish  between  the 
forced  services  exacted  by  a  tyrant  and  the 
noble  duty  rendered  to  a  rightful  sover- 
eign ?  " 

"  I  can  better  estimate  the  fascinations 
which  lead  men  to  follow  a  hero,  than  to 
be  the  parade-soldier  around  the  gilded 
gates  of  a  palace." 

De  Beauvais's  cheek  flashed  scarlet,  and 
his  voice  was  agitated,  as  he  replied, 

"  The  nobles  of  France,  sir,  have  shown 
themselves  as  high  in  deeds  of  chivalry  and 
heroism  as  they  have  ever  been  in  the  ac- 
complishments of  true-born  gentlemen." 

"  Pardon  me,  De  Beauvais.  I  meant  no 
imputation  of  them  and  their  motives. 
There  is  every  reason  why  you  and  your 
gallant  companions  should  enjoy  the  fa- 
vors of  that  crown  your  efforts  have  placed 
upon  the  head  of  the  King  of  France, 
lour  true  and  fitting  station  is  around  the 


throne  your  bravery  and  devotion  have  re- 
stored. But  as  for  us — we  who  have  fought 
and  marched — have  periled  limb,  and 'life 
to  raise  the  fortune  and  elevate  the  glory 
of  him  who  was  the  enemy  of  that  sover- 
eign— how  can  we  be  participators  in  the 
triumph  we  labored  to  avert,  and  rejoice  in 
a  consummation  we  would  have  died  rather 
than  witnessed  ?  "' 

"But  it  has  come.  The  fates  have  de- 
cided against  you.  The  cause  you  would 
serve  is  not  merely  unfortunate — it  is  ex- 
tinct. The  Empire  has  left  no  banner  be- 
hind it.  Come,  then,  and  rally  round  one 
whose  boast  it  is  to  number  among  its  fol- 
lowers the  high-born  and  the  noble — to  as- 
sert the  supremacy  of  rank  and  worth  above 
the  claim  of  the  base  and  low." 

"I  cannot — I  must  not." 

"At  least,  you  will  wait  on  the  Count 
d'Artois.  You  must  see  his  royal  highness, 
and  thank  him  for  his  gracious  intentions." 

"I  know  what  that  means,  De  Beauvais. 
I  have  heard  that  few  can  resist  the  grace- 
ful fascinations  of  the  prince's  manner.  I 
shall  certainly  not  fear  to  encounter  them, 
however  dangerous  to  my  principles." 

"But  not  to  refuse  his  royal  highness," 
said  he,  quickly.  "  I  trust  you  will  not  do 
that." 

"You  would  not  have  me  yield  to  the 
flattery  of  a  prince's  notice  what  I  refuse 
to  the  solicitations  of  a  friend — would 
you?" 

"  And  such  is  your  intention — your  fixed 
intention  ?  " 

"  Undoubtedly  it  is." 

De"  Beauvais  turned  away  impatiently, 
and  leaned  on  the  window  for  seme  min- 
utes. Then,  after  a  pause,  and  in  a  slow 
and  measured  voice,  added, 

"  You  are  known  to  the  Court,  Burke, 
by  other  channels  than  those  I  have  men- 
tioned. Your  prospects  of  advancement 
would  be  most  brilliant,  if  you  accept  this 
offer.  I  scarcely  know  to  what  they  may 
not  aspire.  Reflect  for  a  moment  or  two. 
There  is  no  desertion — no  falling  off  here. 
Remember  that  the  Empire  was  a  vision, 
and  like  a '  dream  it  has  passed  away. 
Where  there  is  no  cause  there  can  be  no 
fealty." 

"It  is  but  a  sorry  memory,  De  Beauvais, 
that  only  retains  while  there  are  benefits  to 
receive.     Mine  is  a  more  tenacious  one." 

"Then  my  mission  is  ended,"  cried  he, 
taking  up  his  hat.  "I  may  mention  to 
his  royal  highness  that  you  intend  return- 
ing to  England — that  you  are  indisposed  to 
service  at  present.  It  is  unnecessary  to 
state  more  accurately  the  views  you  enter- 
tain?" 


I    FINI>,"    SAID     SHE    SMILING,     "I    MUST    GIVE    YOU     ANOTHER      KEEPSAKE — THIS     WILL.     NOT 
LEAVE   ME.'        "GIVE   IT   ME,  THEN,  WHERE   IT    IS,"  SAID   I.      (P.    638  * 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


627 


"I  leave  the  matter  completely  to  your 
discretion." 

"Adieu,  then.  Our  roads  lie  widely 
apart,  Burke  ;  and  I  for  one  regret  it  deep- 
ly. It  only  remains  that  I  should  give  you 
tliis  note,  which  I  promised  to  deliver  into 
your  hands  in  the  event  of  your  declining 
to  accept  the  prince's  offer." 

He  blushed  deeply,  as  he  placed  a  small 
sealed  note  in  my  fingers ;  and,  as  if  anx- 
ious to  get  away,  pressed  my  hand  hurried- 
ly, and  left  the  room. 

My  curiosity  to  learn  the  contents  of  the 
billet  made  me  tear  it  open  at  once  ;  but  it 
was  not  before  I  had  perused  it  several 
times  that  I  could  credit  the  lines  before 
me..    They  were  but  few,  and  ran  thus  : 

"  Dear  Sir, — May  I  request  the  honor 
of  a  visit  from  you  this  evening  at  the 
Hotel  de  Grammont.     Truly  yours, 

"  Marie  d'Auvergne, 
nee  De  Meudon. 
"  Colonel  Burke." 

How  did  I  read  these  lines  over  again 
and  again — now  interpreting  them  as  mes- 
sengers of  future  hope,  now  fearing  -they 
might  exclude  every  ray  of  it  forever.  One 
solution  recurred  to  me  at  every  moment, 
and  tortured  me  to  the  very  soul.  Her 
family  had  all  been  royalists.  The  mere 
accidents  of  youth  had  thrown  her  brother 
into  the  army  and  herself  into  the  Court 
of  the  Empire,  where  personal  devotion  and 
attachment  to  the  Empress  had  retained 
her.  What  if  she  should  exert  her  influ- 
ence to  induce  me  to  accept  the  prince's 
offer  ?  How  could  I  resist  a  request,  per- 
haps an  entreaty,  from  her  ?  The  more  I 
reflected  over  it,  the  more  firmly  this  opin- 
ion gained  ground  with  me,  and  the  more 
deeply  did  I  grieve  over  a  position  envi- 
roned by  such  difficulty  ;  and,  ardently  as 
I  longed  for  the  moment  of  meeting  her 
once  more,  the  desire  was  tempered  by  a 
fear  that  the  meeting  should  be  our  last. 

The  eventful  moment  of  my  destiny  ar- 
rived, and  found  me  at  the  door  of  the 
Hotel  de  Grammont.  A  valet  in  waiting 
for  my  arrival  conducted  me  to  a  salon, 
saying  the  countess  would  appear  in  a  few 
moments. 

What  an  anxious  interval  was  that.  I 
tried  to  occupy  myself  with  the  objects 
around,  and  distract  my  attention  from 
the  approaching  interview  ;  but  every  sound 
startled  me,  and  I  turned  at  each  instant 
toward  the  door  by  which  I  expected  her 
to  enter.     . 

The  time  appeared  to  drag  heavily  on  ; 
minutes  became  like  hours ;    and  yet  no 


one  appeared.  My  impatience  had  reached 
its  climax,  when  I  heard  my  name  spoken 
in  a  low,  soft  voice.  I  turned,  and  she 
was  before  me. 

She  was  dressed  in  deep  mourning,  and 
looked  paler,  perhaps  thinner,  than  1  had 
ever  seen  her — but  not  less  beautiful. 
Whether  prompted  by  her  own  feelings  at 
the  moment,  or  called  up  by  my  uncon- 
sciously fixed  look,  she  blushed  deepl' 
our  eyes  met. 

"  I  was  about  to  leave  France,  colonel," 
said  she,  as  soon  as  we  were  seated,  "  when 
I  heard  from  my  cousin,  De  Beauvais,  thai 
you  were  here,  and  delayed  my  departure 
to  have  the  opportunity  of  seeing  you." 

She  paused  here,  and  drew  a  deep  breath 
to  continue  ;  but,  leaning  her  head  on  her 
hand,  she  seemed  to  have  fallen  into  a  rev- 
erie for  some  minutes,  from  which  she 
started  suddenly,  by  saying — 

"  His  royal  highness  has  offered  you  your 
grade  in  the  service,  I  understand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  madame  ;  so  my  friend  Dc  Beau- 
vais informs  me." 

""And  you  have  refused — is  it  not  so?" 

"Even  so,  madame." 

"  How  is  this,  sir  ?  Are  you  so  weary  of 
a  soldier's  life  that  you  would  leave  it  thus 
early  ?  " 

"  This  was  not  the  reason,  madame." 

"You  loved  the  Emperor,  sir,"  said  she, 
hastily,  and  with  a  tone  of  almost  passion- 
ate eagerness,  "even  as  I  loved  my  dear, 
kind  mistress  ;  and  you  felt  allegiance  to 
be  too  sacred  a  thing  to  be  bartered  at  a 
moment's  notice.  Is  this  the  true  expla- 
nation ?  " 

"  I  am  proud  to  say,  you  have  read  my 
motives — such  were  they." 

"  Why  are  there  not  many  more  to  act 
thus?"  cried  she,  vehemently;  "why  do 
not  the  great  names  he  made  glorious,  be- 
come greater  by  fidelity  than  ever  they 
were  by  heroism  ?  There  was  one,  sir,  who. 
had  he  lived,  had  given  this  example  to 
the  world." 

"  True,  most  true,  madame  ;  but  was  not 
his  fate  happier  than  to  have  survived  for 
this  ?  " 

A  long  pause,  unbroken  by  a  word  on 
either  side,  followed  ;  when  at  last  she 
said, 

"  I  had  left  with  De  Beauvais  some  few 
relics  of  my  dear  brother,  hoping  you 
would  accept  them  for  his  sake.  General 
d'Auvergne's  sword— the  same  he  wore  at 
Jena — he  desired  might  be  conveyed  to 
you,  when  you  left  the  service.  These, 
and  this  ring,"  said  she,  endeavoring  to 
withdraw  a  rich  brilliant  from  her  finger, 
"  are  the  few  souvenirs  I  would  ask  you  to 


G28 


CHARLES  LEVERS  WORKS. 


keep  for  their  sakes,  and  for  mine.  You 
mean  to  return  to  England,  sir  ?  *' 

''Yes,  madame ;  that  is,  1  had  intended 
— I  know  not  now  whither  i  shall  go. 
Country  has  few  ties  for  one  like  me." 

"I,  too,  must  he  a  wanderer,"  said  she, 
half  musingly,  while  still  she  endeavored 
to  remove  the  ring  from  her  finger.  "I 
find,"  said  she,  smiling,  "I  must  give  you 
another  keepsake  —  this  will  not  leave 
me." 

"  Give  it  me,  then,  where  it  is,"  said  T. 
"  Yes,  Marie,  the  devotion  of  a  heart, 
wholly  yours,  should  not  go  unrewarded. 
To  you  I  owe  all  that  my  life  has  known  of 
happiness  ;  to  memory  of  you,  every  high 
and  noble  hope.  Let  me  not,  after  years 
of  such  affection,  lose  the  guiding  star  of 
my  existence — all  that  I  have  lived  for — all 
that  I  love." 

These  words,  poured  forth  with  all  the 
passionate   energy  which   a  last  hope  in- 


spires, were  followed  by  a  story  of  my  long, 
concealed  love.  I  know  not  how  incohe- 
rently the  tale  was  told  ;  I  cannot  say  how 
often  I  interrupted  my  own  recital  by  some 
appeal  to  the  past — some  half -uttered  hope, 
that  she  had  seen  the  passion  which  burned 
within  me.  I  can  but  remember  the  burst- 
ing-feeling  of  my  bosom,  as  she  placed  her 
hand  in  mine,  and  said,  "It  is  yours." 

These  words  ended  the  story  of  a  life 
whose  trials  were  many,  and  encountered 
at  an  age  in  which  few  have  braved  the 
world's  cares.  The  lessons  I  had  learned, 
however,  were  acquired  in  that  school — 
adversity — where  few  are  taught  in  vain  ; 
and  if  the  morning  of  my  life  broke  in 
clouds  and  shadow,  the  noon  has  been  not 
less  peaceful  and  bright,  and  the  evening, 
as  it  draws  near,  comes  with  an  aspect  of 
calm  tranquillity,  ample  enough  to  recom- 
pense every  vicissitude  of  those  early  days, 
when  the  waves  of  fortune  were  roughest. 


AA    000  845  274 


